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I'm standing in the forest. Alone. My gaze wanders to the glowing LED lights on the top tube of my bike and a blush rises to my face.
Let me explain why. Every now and then I go home to the Black Forest. Unfortunately, there are only a few worthwhile trails there. Basically just one, the Kohlplatz Downhill, and it's deep in the forest. This means that to get to this short, rather boring trail, I have to pedal many kilometres up bland forest tracks - not my thing! That's why I prefer to pack my e-MTB! Yes, my visits to the Black Forest are turning me into an e-freerider. At the same time, I downloaded the Strava app in the hope of finding more trails. That's when I came across the timekeeping function.
And lo and behold: my dreary trail is listed in the app. 96 bikers have already timed their descent - King of the Mountain of the Kohlplatz Downhill was a certain Michael K. with the best time of 2:21 minutes. I could feel my ambition rising. Could I beat this Michael K.? So far, the Strava hype has passed me by - because, as you know, the app is primarily there to compete with other Strava users and strive for best times. Not for me! I've only done a few races so far, and the results were rather rubbish. And I don't like doing things that I can't do - unfortunately there are quite a few of them. Finding routes, for example. Adjusting gears, mental arithmetic, small talk, stock transactions ... But this time it was different - success was in the air. I could feel it.
So I set off on the Kohlplatz downhill: a one-kilometre hiking trail with lots of fast straights and short root passages. There are two key sections. Here, the trail zigzags down in hairpin bends and the terrain hangs to one side. This is treacherous. There are no counter-climbs, just a small dip that you better pedal out of, otherwise your speed will be lost.
I feel like Lance Armstrong. Wait, no! Because that guy never felt guilty. I, on the other hand, do.
I stand at the trail entrance with my mobile phone in my hand and press "Record". Then I sprint off - into the first section. I put my bike into bends that I can't see. Ferns grow everywhere. I push the bike into dips and try to hit the brakes as late as possible before the bends. It's all downhill, and yet I'm panting as if I'm panting up the trail. I take one of the two hairpin bends so picture-perfect that world champion Fabien Barel would have patted me on the back if he'd been there.
I'm still gasping for breath when I take my mobile phone out of my pocket at the end of the trail. "Congratulations!", the app flatters. I am indeed the new KOM (King of the Mountain) - Numero uno! I feel pride. Racing pride. I never knew that before. Could I be a racer after all? I'd like to hug someone for joy right now, but there's nobody here. I stand alone in the dark forest and wonder whether I should press "Share" to announce my heroic deed to my Facebook friends. As I put my phone back in my trousers and see the colourful battery diodes glowing on the top tube of my bike, I feel a big lump in my throat. Now I'm glad I decided against the Facebook post. Because I'm travelling with motor assistance and have just shat all over the internet community.
Blood rushes to my head. I feel like Lance Armstrong. Wait, no! Because that guy never felt guilty. I, on the other hand, did. And how! My brain is looking for ways out. In my mind's eye, I see myself desperately on hold with the Strava hotline, struggling for words as I tell the Strava employee that they should remove me from the list as quickly as possible. Yes, I even want to offer them the chance to irrevocably delete my account.
I have to beat the time, but this time without motor support
But then I have a flash of inspiration: the solution! It's almost banal. I have to beat the time, but this time without motorised assistance. So up again! On the way to the trail entrance, images flash through my mind. I imagine myself taking a holiday for the next few weeks. How my mum provides me with isotonic drinks at the trail entrance and encourages me so that I finally manage to beat the top time - even without a motor to put an end to the shame.
At the top, I switch off the engine, take a deep breath and resolve to give it my all. I start pedalling - this time I feel resistance instead of support. I ride as if my life is at stake. I make up for slight riding mistakes by wrapping my index fingers around the handlebars for the death grip at high speed. The tension disappears, I'm in my new element. I hurtle round blind bends at V-Max and fervently hope that nobody is coming towards me.
The trail is merciful, gives me grip, lets me dart round turns quickly and push myself out of dips. At the bottom, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I click on the app ... New best time: 2:14 min. A load off my mind! When I get home, I'm completely exhausted and make a mental note to delete the app from my phone again, but then I don't do it. After all, I am now an honest-to-God KING OF THE MOUNTAIN!
A few days later. My holiday is over, I pack the Specialised Turbo Levo Just as I'm getting into my Ford Focus, my bike buddy Paul comes running past. Coincidence? He's also on Strava. He points to the Levo in the boot. "You didn't ride the e-MTB, did you?" I wave him off and say a little cockily: "Only without the motor switched on, of course." Instead of a "Really? Congratulations then," Paul says: "That still doesn't count - it's much heavier on the trail because of the weight." Now I can feel the lump in my throat again. Is Paul right? Am I a cheater, even with the engine switched off?
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Laurin Lehner
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