It Won’t Be That Difficult.

Sharing a sport

Those famous last words that often show up in the wake of tension: "It won't be that difficult."

I can safely assume most women have heard some version of this sentence from their significant other at least once. More often than not, it's meant as encouragement. But somehow, those five words have a way of increasing self-doubt once you're standing in the middle of whatever challenge was supposedly not going to be difficult.

Here lies the true duality of adventure riding, or any sport shared in tandem.

Boston Blue Hole, Arkansas

For those of us who ride with a partner, the experience can be incredibly rewarding and occasionally frustrating. Two skill levels, two risk tolerances, and sometimes two very different ideas of what makes an adventure fun can create opportunities for misunderstanding. One rider may see a rocky climb as an exciting challenge while the other is already calculating the safest place to put a foot down.

I've had the same conversation with my husband more times than I can count. At the end of a long day on the trail, I'll find myself apologizing for slowing him down or feeling guilty that he isn't riding at the pace I imagine he'd prefer. Every time, his answer remains the same: "Don't apologize. I want to do this activity with you. We get to enjoy the scenery together."

I know he means it. The hard part isn't believing him. The hard part is accepting that I don't need to measure my worth as a rider against his abilities.

Maybe that's because my path into adventure riding wasn't exactly traditional.

The journey to ADV

On my Suzuki Boulevard, circa 2019

For six years, I rode a Suzuki Boulevard S40. A perfectly unintimidating cruiser suited to the kind of riding I enjoyed at the time. Where the toughest decision on a ride was usually whether I wanted coffee before or after the twisties.

Then, in 2023, I bought a Royal Enfield Himalayan.

A 411cc single-cylinder tractor of a motorcycle that immediately introduced me to an entirely new collection of discomforts. I named her Murphy. Yes, as in Murphy's Law.

Owning an adventure bike with absolutely no off-road experience humbled me, to say the least. Making jokes about my lacking skills became a coping mechanism because it's easier to laugh about falling over than it is to admit that imposter syndrome sneaks into my helmet every time I turn the key in the ignition. When you're riding with people who make technical terrain look effortless, it's easy to feel like everyone else is better than you.

However, no matter what I think, it doesn't change the fact that I belong here.

Wheeler Peak Lookout, Great Basin National Park (NV)

Adventure riding has taken me to places I never would have seen otherwise. Dirt roads no longer feel like barriers. Forest Service roads, mountain passes, and Backcountry Discovery Routes have challenged me in ways that made me a more capable and confident rider. Every moment of uncertainty has been exchanged for experiences that would have felt impossible a year ago.

Comparison as the thief of joy

Over time, I've realized that the more energy I spend worrying about how I compare to other riders, the less present I am for the ride itself. Comparison has a way of stealing joy from experiences that are supposed to bring us joy in the first place. Do we see the irony here? Instead of trying to manage perceptions, I've been practicing focusing on what's directly in front of me.

I also recognize how fortunate I am to have a partner who understands. My husband talks me through climbs and descents over our comms with a calmness I rarely possess myself. When a section exceeds my current ability, he'll ride my bike through it without making me feel like I've failed. Then he hands it back and encourages me to try the next obstacle. There's never a sense that I need to prove myself, only an understanding that I'll get there in my own time.

I recently realized something important: when two people want to experience the same activity together, it doesn't matter whose version of adventure is correct. The ride isn't diminished because one person is moving slower or taking a different line. If you're both enjoying the experience and creating memories together, then you're already doing it right.

Somewhere in Southern Utah