The Radavist

In a video clip that went viral three years ago an unknown rider from Colombia is towed by motorcycle to jump a massive single dirt jump. Understandably, the feat sent the internet into a frenzy. More impressive the rider, Julian Molina had one leg, and the moto-tow was the only way he could get enough speed to clear the 25-foot-plus gap. It was a wildly uplifting moment that illustrated the human spirit at its best. The whole crowd erupted in cheers of support and disbelief and he cemented his name as an icon of all things rad! The venue? RADshare‘s Rumble in Richmond.

For those of you unfamiliar, the Rumble in Richmond is an event that benefits RADshare, a not-for-profit organization whose mission is to educate and empower underrepresented and underserved youth by providing them with the resources needed to participate in outdoor activities, specifically BMX and action sports.

“It’s the best” must be one of the most common, purely subjective statements made so regularly with enthusiastic conviction. We do it all the time, but it’s ludicrous. You have to define a word like “best” in your own terms. It’s a value statement. Saying something is the best only tells you a little bit about the thing in question, but a lot about the person saying it and what they value. What’s the best gear ratio for a single-speed 29er? What’s the best tire choice for a course that’s littered with mud pits, rooty singletrack, and rock gardens, but is also interspersed with long, hot, 15 miles stretches of pavement? Do you like to mash or spin? Are you a confident bike handler and want to make the long road stretches easier? Are you strong-legged and get annoyed at spinning out on the flats?

So what am I really saying when I write that the MountainCat 100 is the best bike race in America?

The Mid-Atlantic has a great ‘cross scene. Most races tend to have crowds of spectators, full fields, interesting and varied courses, and—thanks to the highly variable mid-Atlantic climate, weather that spans from the hot and dusty to absurdly muddy in any given season. There is a lot to love in the Mid-Atlantic if you like cyclocross and Andy Karr is here to tell you why.

You may not know me but maybe you’ve heard of my company? Well, I’m using this article as the official announcement of my debutante summer, The Summer of Cheech. I’m Cheech, Co-Owner of Crust Bikes and Creator/ Designer of Casa Verde.

I like to shoot the first frame on a roll of film no matter how carefully I load the roll I always end up getting something kinda strange and wonderful out of that first exposure – an effect yielded by the film’s interaction with light coming from two separate moments in time and space – the exposure of the film through the camera’s shutter, but also the light leaked onto the frame during the loading of the roll. One of my favorite photos ever is of my 17-year-old beagle/spaniel mix, Bucky, where he looks like he’s peeking out from behind a cascading sheet of liquid sun. The first exposure on this roll is of my friend, podcast co-host, and riding partner, Sarah rifling through overstuffed bikepacking bags outside of a country store in Damascus, Virginia about 15 miles into our 550-mile bikepacking trip through the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia. The image of her trying to squeeze a snack bar into a nonexistent empty space in the top tube bag is itself neatly constrained into the 2/3rds of the frame not devoured by light exposure obtained while the roll was being loaded.

For decades, the little mountain overlooking my mother’s childhood home held a massive secret and my dad was in on it.

At just under 2,000 feet, Mount Weather sits along the edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the rural Virginia town of Bluemont. It served as the backdrop to my childhood memories of time spent at my grandmother’s house. These days, whenever I visit the area on my bike and ride by the house, I look up at the mountain knowing it’s the reason I’m here.

And what my dad once told me, this mountain might be the reason we are ​all ​still here.