18 Miles Per Hour

18 MilesPerHour is about riding through the world instead of just passing it by.
ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW ABOUT RUNNING I LEARNED ON A SINGLESPEED.
When I started devoting myself to trail running, I thought it meant a permanent adieu to my mountain bike and all those amazing experiences. But just when running started to get really hard for me, I got an unexpected rescue in the form of my singlespeeding muscle memory.
See, I was beginning to think my body wasn’t made for this kind of grind. But one day, while slogging up a fire road in the heat, I began to feel a familiar sensation. The rhythm of a singlespeed climb. All I had to do was imagine myself astride my old bike and that was it.
For reals.
That simple mental trick has added a couple miles to my runs.
Turns out there are a few things in common between trail running and singlespeeding.
Every run starts with that slow warmup as I grind through the fog and the aches and the pains.
Steep hills. I used to love, love, love them on my One 9er. Out of the saddle, finding a nice, bouncing rhythm and settling in for the long grind. Now as I slog up the steep singletrack on foot, I Imagine myself on the bike. It’s an old visualization trick from my ancient triathlon days, actually, but it totally works. I found that it even helps to hold my hands out as if they’re gripping the bar extensions as I settle into a loping, grinding rhythm. Heaven. 
Oxygen-deprived, sweating buckets heaven.
Patience on the flats. Boy, my slow running pace certainly reminds me of spinning along in my 20 tooth while getting passed by the geared set. But hey, it means I get more time out there on the trail. At least this is what I tell myself.
One missing part of my running skills is still descending. I’m not as courageous on foot as I was on wheels. As I obsess about the possibility of twisting my ankle, I regularly get passed by gazelle-like, shirtless dudes bounding down a steep, rocky trail in 3 or 4 leaps without a care in the world. Someday, perhaps.  Also, descending on foot is like riding a fixed gear. There’s no coasting in running and once momentum gets you flying down a loose trail, slowing down can be a daunting proposition.
Did I say there were only a few things in common? I’ve actually realized that they have more in common than not. 
It also helps that the single speed I had on my singlespeed was“slow.” 
- Brian

ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW ABOUT RUNNING I LEARNED ON A SINGLESPEED.

When I started devoting myself to trail running, I thought it meant a permanent adieu to my mountain bike and all those amazing experiences. But just when running started to get really hard for me, I got an unexpected rescue in the form of my singlespeeding muscle memory.

See, I was beginning to think my body wasn’t made for this kind of grind. But one day, while slogging up a fire road in the heat, I began to feel a familiar sensation. The rhythm of a singlespeed climb. All I had to do was imagine myself astride my old bike and that was it.
For reals.
That simple mental trick has added a couple miles to my runs.
Turns out there are a few things in common between trail running and singlespeeding.

Every run starts with that slow warmup as I grind through the fog and the aches and the pains.

Steep hills. I used to love, love, love them on my One 9er. Out of the saddle, finding a nice, bouncing rhythm and settling in for the long grind. Now as I slog up the steep singletrack on foot, I Imagine myself on the bike. It’s an old visualization trick from my ancient triathlon days, actually, but it totally works. I found that it even helps to hold my hands out as if they’re gripping the bar extensions as I settle into a loping, grinding rhythm. Heaven.
Oxygen-deprived, sweating buckets heaven.

Patience on the flats. Boy, my slow running pace certainly reminds me of spinning along in my 20 tooth while getting passed by the geared set. But hey, it means I get more time out there on the trail. At least this is what I tell myself.

One missing part of my running skills is still descending. I’m not as courageous on foot as I was on wheels. As I obsess about the possibility of twisting my ankle, I regularly get passed by gazelle-like, shirtless dudes bounding down a steep, rocky trail in 3 or 4 leaps without a care in the world. Someday, perhaps. Also, descending on foot is like riding a fixed gear. There’s no coasting in running and once momentum gets you flying down a loose trail, slowing down can be a daunting proposition.

Did I say there were only a few things in common? I’ve actually realized that they have more in common than not.
It also helps that the single speed I had on my singlespeed was“slow.”
- Brian

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