Pisgah All Mountain Challenge — Pushing This Little Pony to Its Limit

30.17 mi | 4:03:31 | 5,308 ft

Pisgah Mountain Challenge was one of those days that reminded me how much I truly love riding in these mountains.

The event itself was something special, organized by Pisgah Area SORBA as part of the Bike Fest weekend, with proceeds going back toward trail maintenance in Pisgah National Forest. It never really felt like a serious race to me, even though people jokingly call it “Pisgah Worlds.” The whole weekend had such a fun community atmosphere around it. My sponsor, Gulo Composites, the local wheel builder here in Brevard, was part of the expo and led a couple of group rides during the festival weekend, so it was really nice seeing them there and being part of the whole event atmosphere beyond just racing. It honestly made me even more excited to line up for this crazy day rolling on my beautiful Gulo wheels out in Pisgah.

I signed up last minute, barely expecting to even get in off the waiting list, and honestly went into it with very little preparation and almost no expectations.

What made the day so meaningful was that it pushed me completely outside my comfort zone.

This wasn’t really a cross-country race at all. It was a big enduro day with only timed enduro stages, all rough, technical descents like Buckwheat, Bennett Gap, Avery Creek, and Black Mountain. I took out my “big bike” Sindel, for the first time in a very long time, and even that bike is tiny compared to what most people ride for this kind of terrain. Around me were full enduro bikes, full-face helmets, and riders much more experienced on this style of trails. Meanwhile I showed up with my little 130mm bike, knowing fully that I was not the strongest descender out there and probably had zero chance of placing high in the actual enduro standings.

And somehow, that made the whole day more enjoyable.

There was no pressure. I was there for the forest, for the trails, for the people who work so hard to maintain them, and simply for the experience of spending another long day deep in Pisgah.

The morning was cool and beautiful, the forest bright green after spring finally arrived, and even with the drought leaving trails loose and dusty, everything felt alive. Right from the start I felt unexpectedly strong. Even climbing on heavier tires and carrying extra bike weight, I found myself riding away from groups and slowly climbing through the field. Before long I was alone on the climbs, completely surrounded by quiet forest, cool air, and that feeling of having the mountains almost to myself.

And the descents were just pure fun.

Exciting. Challenging. A little intimidating at times. But fun.

When I approached the start of stage two, another rider caught up to me right before dropping in. I knew immediately he was going to be much faster than me on the descent, so I laughed and told him he was more than welcome to go first. He looked exhausted, wiping his face, and said, “I need thirty seconds.” I could tell he probably needed a little more than that, so I smiled and told him, “Sure, you can have forty-five seconds… maybe even a minute if you want.” The volunteer standing there started laughing too. Then the countdown started, he absolutely ripped down the trail, and I followed for a little while until he completely disappeared into the forest ahead of me. And honestly, I didn’t care. I had such a fantastic descent myself. Fast, focused, exciting, and smooth. Somewhere in the middle of Bennett, while I was holding on through endless water bars, holes, and drops coming one after another after another, there were people laying in hammocks next to the trail cheering riders on. Once you committed to those sections, there was no stopping, you were pretty much just holding on for dear life. I yelled to them laughing that I was pushing this little pony to its absolute limit, and they completely smiled and agreed. I was probably on one of the smallest bikes out there with the least amount of travel descending that terrain, but somehow that made the whole experience even more edgy.

Somewhere throughout the day I realized how much I’ve changed as a rider since moving to the mountains. Years ago, trails like these would have completely overwhelmed me. And these are not just ordinary trails. This is some of the roughest, most technical riding you can find anywhere, the kind of terrain that demands full focus and respect the entire time. Back then I would have doubted myself constantly. Now, years later, it all feels different. It feels familiar. It feels like home.

I may not be the fastest descender out there, and honestly I don’t need to be, but I know now that I can ride these trails with confidence. I can get myself through all of it safely, smoothly, and still climb hard for hours before dropping into another massive descent. To be able to say that after everything, after moving here, learning these mountains little by little, and changing so much as a rider, feels incredibly rewarding.

Somewhere in the middle of the day, next to the horse stables, there was a feed zone where volunteers were so kind helping fill bottles while I dumped drink mix into my water. There were smiles everywhere, people chatting, racers catching their breath for a minute before heading back out into the forest. What I really liked about this event was that even though everyone was racing hard, there was still space to slow down for a moment longer than you normally would in a traditional race. It felt competitive, but also relaxed and welcoming at the same time, and I really appreciated that different atmosphere.

By the time I reached Avery Creek, all the short-course racers were gathering at the top waiting for their stage start. I was the only long-course rider arriving there at that moment, and people looked around almost confused when they realized I had already made it there from the full route. One of the women looked at me and said, “You are crazy.” I just smiled, rolled in, took my turn, and dropped into Avery Creek.

That last descent of the day felt incredible. Fast, flowing, thrilling, and full of joy. One of those moments where riding a bike feels almost impossible to explain unless you’ve experienced it yourself.

My personal goal for the day became simple somewhere along the way: finish first overall from start to finish as a cross-country race, not just the timed descents. And I accomplished exactly that. I rode hard all day, climbed strong, descended safely, and crossed the line after over four hours in Pisgah feeling genuinely happy. In the actual enduro standings I ended up eighth in the long course, which honestly was perfectly fine with me. This was never really about competing for the descents. It was about showing up outside my comfort zone, riding trails that once intimidated me, and enjoying every minute of the experience.

Another huge day in the mountains. Another beautiful training day bringing me closer to the biggest goal of my year.