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The discipline of cross-country mountain biking has never really been a large blip on my personal radar. I always viewed it as something less “rad” or “cool” growing up. The riders were almost always clad in lycra or road-adjacent attire on bikes that could never pull a full run at Rampage or race the Mont Saint Anne DH. It just wasn't cool. Here in 2024, I am kicking myself for not tuning in and giving it more attention earlier in life.

Historically, I have been focused on the more “extreme” segments of this sport. I grew up riding BMX on dirt jumps and skateparks, later falling in love with the freeride movement thanks to the icons behind Kranked and New World Disorder. The adrenaline and aggression spoke to a young boy grappling with his identity, shaping me and guiding me on my journey. In my early twenties, a sudden stop from high speed on the trail shifted some rather important annulus fibrosus around and forced me to step away from the sport that had given me so much.

With months of PT and rehab ahead of me and a mental reassessment on whether all the risks of downhill and freeride were really worth it, I found myself looking for a mellow way to reintroduce myself to bikes. Was I really looking at purchasing a road bike? Is this who I’m becoming? It wasn’t a true road bike that did it. I poured over the marketing magic GT bicycles had been churning out surrounding their industry-disrupting Grade line. Road bikes with disc brakes, bigger tires, and a hunger for the unbeaten path? Sign me up.

It was this blurring of the lines that grabbed me and sparked an appreciation for the endurance components of this sport. As someone who would typically shudder at the thought of riding up a hill for fun, the idea of hopping on a curly-barred, skinny-tired road bike was something entirely alien. Alas, it was freeing after almost a year without any kind of engagement with cycling, and I welcomed this new and previously scorned aspect of the sport. It was indeed a gateway to my enlightenment.

Miles came and went with relative ease, and exploration was the whetstone that sharpened my mind for years before I realized, “I think I want an XC bike.” There is a way to amalgamate my past with my present for exponential growth. My eyes had been pried open to what is possible if you drop the preconceived notion that XC is not super fu*#ing rad.

Fast forward to today, and cross-country continues to make an impact and enthrall the masses unlike ever before. The bikes and riders are pushing the potential in a way that would have completely shocked 15-year-old me. Riders like Christopher Blevins, Nino Schurter, Bjorn Riley, and Riley Amos bring a commanding and impressive panache to the sport that truly inspires. 

The proficiency to not just climb the complex tech sectors, steep punches, or tangled nests of roots but also throw the bikes around beneath them, play with the limits of grip, and throw their own spice of style into the sport has me completely hooked. Realizing how impressively dedicated these riders have to be in order to compete at this level humbles and shames the younger me for looking down on this beautifully dynamic discipline.

I have been locked into the XC World Cup Circuit over the last few years, not wanting to miss a race or miss out more than I already have due to my stubborn ignorance, and holy-moly, is this not the perfect era to be discovering how incredible cross-country is? 

This year has born witness to the unwavering dominance of Riley Amos in the U23 category, Pidcock displaying his road prowess translates to XC wizardry, Puck Pieterse showing complete mastery and calm at Crans Montana, or Jenny Rissveds and Savilia Blunk executing fantastic seasons to secure spots in the 2024 Paris Olympics. 

We are in a very special moment with cross-country, or maybe that is just my perception of it as an outsider who recently discovered the sport. No matter how you feel about it, I recommend everyone give XC the time of day and, at the very least, tune in and watch the highlights and raw practice from Crans Montana.