THE AIR

At the time of writing, the author's favourite personal aircraft was a creamy purple Juliana Roubion. Gloria is senior editor at Bicycling US, and documents her joy on Instagram @ thats_ my_ line.

WHEN I PICTURE my perfect trail, my mind always wanders to a certain ribbon of singletrack in Santa Cruz, California. It dips and swerves through the redwood forest at just the right mellow angle to let you maintain constant launching speed. Smooth kickers and side hips beckon you to send it around every turn, and are so exquisitely built it feels as if the locals who created them had only your maximum enjoyment at heart.

My ideal ride, I guess, has many opportunities to leave the ground. I know there is neurochemistry behind why getting even the tiniest bit of air can make me go ‘Whoo!’ But I think it’s more than just dopamine playing its greatest hits on my brain.

Full disclosure: I don’t usually get huge air – it’s more often ‘sensible’ air – aka ‘ baby’ air. But whether I’m bunny-hopping a bump on my ’cross bike or going off a drop in the bike park, the process is the same. I love that moment of commitment, approaching the edge and acknowledging that when my tyres leave the ground, there is some level of uncertainty in how they’ll land – and then doing the counterintuitive anyway: putting in a couple of extra pedal strokes, and charging it. It’s bold, and so opposite to the increasingly careful way I approach other aspects of life as I grow up – planning holidays ahead of time, dutifully putting away more money for retirement.

Instead, in the air, I’m so free and light as to defy gravity. That’s why I daydream about that trail in Santa Cruz, and why I keep seeking out rides like it. Because when I get off the bike, I go back to my life knowing this: today, I left the security of the ground to see if I could touch the sky. For a fraction of a second, my bike enabled me to fly.