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  Bike shorts are weird, to be honest. They have a big pad in the butt area that’s meant to make riding more comfortable, and they’re tight spandex, so they look and feel a little goofy.

  “Seriously, people wear these?” she asks. “These look like a low-budget superhero movie had a costume sale.”

  “Trust me, they’re a lot more comfortable than riding in jeans,” Jen says, pulling her own pair out of her bag. Hers are black as well but have little purple polka dots around the bottom edges.

  “But we wore jeans at Joyride, and I wore leggings the other day,” Lindsay says, sounding alarmed. “You mean we won’t wear jeans over these?”

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I’ll lend you a pair of baggies to go over them when we’re riding outside.”

  Now both of them are looking at me like I’m crazy.

  “What are baggies?” both of them ask at once.

  I sigh dramatically, but really, I’m pretty excited to show off my knowledge. Lindsay knows so much about BMX already—because she reads everything—and Jen knows all about road bikes and fitness stuff, but mountain biking is in my wheelhouse.

  “They’re shorts that go over your tight cycling shorts,” I explain, and grab a pair out of my bottom drawer. They’re almost knee-length and have a few pockets for stashing snacks too.

  “But why?” Jen asks.

  “First of all, because not everyone wants to be wearing only tight shorts while riding—and second, because we are mountain biking, and sometimes you fall. It’s sort of nice to have an extra layer of clothes on so you don’t end up ripping or wrecking your bike shorts. Also, baggies look cool,” I explain, opening my dresser drawer to reveal my whole collection of mountain bike gear.

  “That makes sense!” says Lindsay, and she grabs the pair out of my hands. Her face droops into a frown when she holds them up to herself, though.

  “Baggy is right,” snorts Jen.

  We all start laughing together. The shorts are basically pants on Lindsay. I’m five foot seven—tall for my age—while Lindsay is barely five feet.

  “Okay, you might need a different pair,” I admit. “But, Jen, you could try these.” She’s between Lindsay and me on the height scale, very average at around five foot four. Lucky her.

  “I wish they were a brighter color. I’ll wear my purple jersey with these,” she says, pulling the navy-blue ones out of the drawer. “Everyone else wears them too, right?”

  I can tell Jen’s nervous about not fitting in with the mountain bikers. “Everyone wears them,” I assure her, and while she still looks suspicious, she adds them to her bag of clothes for the morning, before settling back into bed to read the magazine that she swiped from Phoebe’s backpack earlier.

  We all look some version of mountain-biker cool when we head down to the SUV and load in. Lindsay asked Phoebe for some baggies, and luckily, she had an extra pair. Lindsay and Phoebe are a lot closer in size, so while we had to put a nylon belt on Lindsay to keep the shorts up, they look pretty good. Her black baggies and charcoal-gray-and-white geometric-print bike jersey make her look even more tanned than usual. Lindsay is Mexican American, and her gorgeous dark hair and dark eyes make me feel washed-out, with my pasty white skin and freckles, and frizzy red hair. When I first met her, she seemed like she was hiding from the world and didn’t want to be noticed, but Phoebe has really helped her find an edgier, funky style that suits her.

  But today I think I might look pretty cool. I’m wearing my favorite plain blue baggies with a bright blue jersey, and my hair is held in a ponytail, with a few barrettes keeping the frizz tame. Jen made my navy-blue baggies look cooler than I’ve ever seen them, once they’re paired with her jersey and bright purple scrunchie at the end of her blond-and-purple braid. Neon purple gloves tucked into her back pocket and dark purple socks round out her look.

  And with that absurd level of color-coordination, we’re officially ready to roll.

  TRAINING LOG

  TODAY’S WORKOUT: Today we’re hitting the mountain biking trails for a 90-minute ride with a focus on getting some hard work in. The downhill trails are fun, but you need to flex your muscles too! Expect to work really hard in this session. Eat a big breakfast! XO, Phoebe

  YOUR NOTES: Finally we’re getting out on my trails, on bikes that I’m more comfortable with. This is my favorite kind of riding, lots of really fun, twisty trails. I love the downhill, and I’m happy that I didn’t fall off the bike or freak out during our testing in the lab—even though now I think I understand what a hamster on a wheel or a mouse in a maze feels like—but there’s nothing like being in the woods and riding around trees, spotting deer and squirrels and rabbits along the way. And it’s fun showing Lindsay and Jen the terrain around here that I know the best.

  CHAPTER 7

  When we get back to the mountain, we head to the bike rental line. “So, no chairlift today?” Jen asks as we line up.

  “Not today,” Phoebe says.

  “Do we still need all the pads and the big helmet, then?” Lindsay asks. “Can we please, please skip them?” That’s a good point—we’re sticking to the low trails, so we won’t be on anything really steep or scary.

  Phoebe considers for a minute. “Okay. You can skip the chest pads and ask for the enduro helmet, elbow pads, and kneepads. That’s my compromise,” she says sternly. “Final offer.”

  Luckily, an enduro helmet and pads are a lot less bulky than the downhill ones, so we’re not as weighed down. Our helmets aren’t full-face, but they do feel a lot bigger than the usual one you’d wear on a BMX bike or a road or mountain bike. The pads are really thin and don’t need to be strapped on. They just slide on and are held in place by their elastic backing. Jen managed to score a pair of neon-purple ones to match her outfit and her purple-streaked hair. Even someone as fashion-backward as I am can see she still looks stylish (for someone wearing massive amounts of body armor).

  However, even though the bikes are smaller than the ones we rode at the park a couple of days ago, they’re still pretty big, with lots of suspension. “We normally wouldn’t ride bikes this big on trails this gentle,” Phoebe says, “but for the competition, it’s important to be really comfortable with how suspension works, and I don’t think you’re going to get enough time actually pedaling on trails if we only ride downhill all the time.”

  “Is suspension why this bike feels so mushy?” Lindsay asks, pressing down on her handlebars and watching the bike sort of sink into the front wheel.

  “Yep—suspension on the front and rear wheels makes it a lot easier to go over bigger obstacles and not get bounced around as much,” Phoebe says. “And it gives you more traction in those berms, so you stick to the sides of them like Velcro and can almost bounce out of them.”

  “But it makes you slower too, right?” I ask.

  “Kind of,” she replies. “These bikes are a lot heavier than a normal cross-country mountain bike would be, and you wouldn’t use them in a regular mountain bike race. Different bikes serve different purposes. And you lose some speed, since the bike sinks a little every time you pedal.”

  “We didn’t get to do a lot of pedaling at the park last time,” Jen observes. “So today we’re pedaling more with the smaller bikes and less actual downhill?”

  “That’s exactly right,” Phoebe says. “Downhill is a lot about technique, but if you’re going to do well in races, you need to be able to pedal really hard and really fast at critical moments, like after the last corner and heading into the finish line. That’s where you make winning moves.”

  “So, we practice technique some days when we go downhill, and then pedaling with some skill stuff on days like today,” I finish.

  Phoebe nods. “You got it….Let’s get pedaling!” she adds.

  She quickly makes our saddles higher than they were before, so it’s a little easier to sit wh
ile pedaling, though she warns us to stand as much as we can if we really care about adapting to the bikes.

  Which, of course, we all do.

  “Follow me,” she says, and pushes off, heading for the treeline. The trail starts really easy. It’s mostly a multiuse path that tourists can walk or ride on if they aren’t cyclists, but it’s an easier way to start than the couple of tough trails that we roll past.

  Naturally, Jen speeds to the front. This is her kind of riding, even if the bike is a lot bigger and heavier than what she’s used to. “Get in my draft,” she yells dramatically.

  “Phoebe, what’s a draft?” Lindsay asks.

  “Just go up and try to get close to Jen’s wheel,” Phoebe says. “But don’t get too close. I don’t know how she’ll handle this next part.” I hang back behind Phoebe because I know what’s coming. The trail looks all innocent and easy, but in half a mile it’s going to veer sharply to the left and suddenly get much narrower, and rocks are going to start popping up, along with roots. Basically, it goes from a wide trail—a double track—to where only a single person can fit through—a singletrack.

  I was right to hang back because as soon as Jen turns the corner, I hear a squeal from her and a squeal from her brakes as she slams them on. Then there’s a quiet thud, followed by Lindsay’s loud laughter.

  When Phoebe and I round the corner a few seconds later, Jen is standing in the middle of a huge mud puddle, her carefully coordinated outfit now covered in brown splotches. She flicks her fingers toward Lindsay, splattering mud onto her clothes, but Lindsay just laughs harder.

  “It’s not funny!” Jen says, seething. But then she looks down at herself and starts to smile a little.

  “That’s a bold new look,” Phoebe says with a totally straight face.

  “I like to take fashion risks,” Jen says back. “And brown and purple is this year’s new hot color combo. Don’t you girls read Vogue?”

  “Ah yes, the mountain bike chic fashion spread,” Phoebe replies, and snorts.

  We all burst into giggles at that, even Jen. And when she starts to get back onto her bike, her pause to—very elegantly—wipe a leaf off her butt sends us into gales of laughter, so loud that I’m worried we’ll never be able to stop.

  Phoebe pedals to the front of our little crew. “Anyway….Follow me, and watch where I’m pedaling around these rocks and roots,” she tells us. “You won’t see a lot of rocks on the downhill trails, but I wanted you all to get comfortable riding right over most of them. You crash more often trying to avoid something than you do if you ride over it.”

  Jen nods. “That’s what I was trying to do!”

  Phoebe starts pedaling, and like little ducklings, we fall in line behind her, Jen in the back this time, and me staying right behind Phoebe. She’s easier to follow than my brothers, since she isn’t trying to show off or do tricks. She’s simply trying to show us how to be efficient. By the end of the two-mile trail, we’re all able to roll over rocks and roots with no problems, though all three of us had mini-crashes because we hit something at a weird angle or were going too slow to go over an obstacle.

  I was doing great until I panicked riding up over a small rock. I grabbed my brakes, pausing myself with my front wheel on the rock, rear wheel firmly on the ground. That meant an instant tip-over for me, but luckily, I tipped only a few inches before my foot made very slow and awkward contact with the ground. I got a little stuck there, though, and toppled over after. But that barely counts as crashing, really.

  Naturally, that was the moment when Leo and Steven chose to ride past us, and Leo pulled off the trail a few feet ahead of us. “What was that?” he asked as I rode by him, and he popped back onto the trail right on my wheel.

  “I was just startled for a second, probably because I could smell you coming,” I said, proud of my quick retort.

  He snorted. “Looked to me like you got overconfident and stopped paying attention,” he said. I growled at him, and he smirked and patted my helmet, and—like the obnoxious older sibling he is—added, “You’ll get it right someday,” before pedaling off to catch up with Steven.

  Compared to riding downhill and not having to do much work other than steering, pedaling around on trails is tiring. And with these squishy suspension bikes, every pedal stroke feels like we’re wasting energy as the bike moves up and down. We’re all exhausted after an hour, but I do think we’re feeling a lot more confident. Lindsay tries to pop up into a wheelie and doesn’t quite make it into the air, and Phoebe laughs.

  “Not so easy on the big bike, is it?” she asks. “Don’t worry. Most people wouldn’t do tricks on a downhill bike,” she adds, and Lindsay looks happier as we head back to return the bikes. She is definitely a BMXer at heart, and the girl loves her tricks and jumps.

  “Wait. See if I can do it right!” Jen says, and pedals quickly ahead of us before hitting her brakes a little aggressively and giving her handlebars a backward tug. It’s almost how a wheelie should start, and at first she’s doing pretty well—her front wheel pops up and she lets go of the brake, rolling forward a few feet before she starts to bobble.

  The bobble becomes a wobble, and she overcorrects by pulling up on her bars again, instead of pedaling to keep her rear wheel moving in a straight line. That’s kind of the trick to a wheelie. It’s not that hard to get your front wheel off the ground by yanking it up, but keeping it up and moving forward…that’s where it’s tricky.

  As soon as the bobble starts, Jen’s panicked response causes her to yank back so hard that instead of dropping her front wheel, she pulls the bike up and over with her backward. Boom! She’s flat on her back, the bike still attached to her feet, hovering above her in the air with the wheels spinning crazily.

  But even before Phoebe has ridden up to see if she’s okay, Jen is sputtering about the grass being too slippery and is struggling to flip over. Classic Jen response, but it means she’s fine and I can simply find this moment hilarious.

  I hold in my giggles—barely—and Lindsay and I help pull her bike off and pull her up to standing.

  “Darn it. I have grass stains all over my shorts!” Jen says, looking at her side.

  “You should see the butt,” says Lindsay, and Jen starts to turn in a circle like a dog chasing its tail to get a look at it, and that’s when we all lose it. Lindsay starts shaking with laughter, I just about fall over, hanging on to my bike for support, and Jen stops midtwist and doubles over, clutching her sides and cracking up.

  “We’ll work on your wheelies,” says Phoebe, smiling. “You should get Ali to help you—she’s much more used to these bikes than any of us. I bet she can give you some pointers.”

  “Seriously?” Jen says, straightening up and looking at me.

  I feel myself blush, but when Phoebe says, “Come on. Show them,” I hop onto my bike.

  Wheelies are secretly kind of my “thing.” Leo and Steven used to spend tons of time practicing in the backyard, so I didn’t have much choice but to join in or be left out. So, I learned how to shift my weight back, but not too far, and how to hold a controlled, straight-lined wheelie.

  I ride in a circle around the girls for a few seconds to get my speed up and take a deep breath. I really don’t want to screw this up!

  One, two, three—LIFT! I gently tug on my handlebars while shifting my weight back, and my front wheel comes off the ground gently.

  Perfect. I pedal slowly, steadily forward, and Jen and Lindsay both burst out in applause as I take one hand off the handlebars and lift it in a victory fist pump. (The one-handed wheelie took me years to master.)

  “That was amazing!” Jen says when I drop my front wheel down and come to a stop right in front of them. “You definitely need to teach us how to do that!”

  “It’s a great skill for being able to get over logs and rocks on the trail,” Phoebe says. “So even if yo
u can’t get across the entire backyard, a little wheelie practice will make you better at mountain biking. But let’s save that for another day. Let’s get home and do some stretching so you’re not sore later…especially you, Jen!”

  Jen rubs her tailbone and grimaces. “It feels fine,” she says before adding, “but maybe a bag of ice wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  We’re laughing again as we pedal back to the bike rental return and drop our bikes.

  TRAINING LOG

  TODAY’S WORKOUT: We’re going to start pushing your limits on the downhill bike a little! We’re going to do a few harder runs, this time focusing on staying smooth while adding a bit more speed and really working on keeping speed when we go over bumps and into corners. It’s going to be a hard day mentally and physically, and I really want you to focus on the emotional side of it—try to have fun, not get frustrated if something doesn’t work the first time. You’re making huge, amazing progress, and it’s all about the journey. Don’t forget: progress, not perfection. XO, Phoebe

  YOUR NOTES: We fell asleep in record time last night, with only Lindsay staying up later than nine o’clock to finish reading a new comic book that Steven lent her. Jen and I were tucked in and were down for the count almost as soon as we finished eating dinner. And after our adventures riding at the bottom of the mountain yesterday—pedaling hard—I’m pretty excited to get back up to the top.

  CHAPTER 8

  This morning when I wander downstairs, Phoebe has smoothies ready for us, and at first, I’m not thrilled, since I hate the smoothies Dad makes, but after one sip, I’m shocked.

  “Phoebe, why does my smoothie taste like a cinnamon bun?” I ask, and she laughs.

  “I blended rice milk with a frozen banana, ginger, turmeric, and cinnamon, plus a little bit of maple syrup and vanilla Greek yogurt,” she says, looking pleased with herself. “It’s my version of Mexican horchata, a sweet cinnamon rice milk I used to love that my dad made for me all the time. Made this way, it has protein to help your body recover from all the work we’ve been doing.”