Right, so I got this idea in my head. Get fitter, get outside more. Everyone kept talking about the sports scene out east, the trails, the groups. Sounded like the place to be. “Eastside Sports,” they called it, like it was some kind of movement.
First Steps, Big Walls
Decided cycling was the way to go. Seemed popular out there. First hurdle: gear. Needed a bike, right? So I headed over to the east side, figured I’d hit up the local shops. What a joke. First place I walked into, the air was thick with… superiority? I don’t know. Asked a guy behind the counter about bikes for the nearby trails. He just sort of waved vaguely at a wall of gleaming machines. Price tags looked more like down payments on a small flat. Zero help. Didn’t ask what I wanted to do, my budget, nothing. Just assumed I was either loaded or lost.
Shop number two was even worse. Looked like a fashion store that happened to sell bikes. Staff looked like they’d stepped off a magazine cover. Ignored me completely until I practically waved someone down. Asked about getting started. Got a lecture full of jargon I didn’t understand and a condescending smile. Felt like I needed a membership card just to breathe the air in there. It was clear: if you weren’t already part of the club, dripping in branded gear, you weren’t welcome.
Trying the ‘Community’ Route
Okay, maybe the shops were just stuck up. Thought I’d try online. Found a few forums, social media groups, all about “Eastside Sports” and activities. Seemed like the place to get info. Wrong again. It was just noise. Endless arguments about the stupidest things. Which brand is best. Who ruined which trail. Complaining about beginners. I asked a simple question about finding easy routes to start. The replies were mostly useless:
- “Figure it out yourself, newbie.”
- Links to ridiculously complex maps.
- Rants about how the trails used to be better before people like me showed up.
So much for community spirit. Felt more like a high school clique, but with more expensive toys.
A Different Encounter
Honestly, I was ready to just forget the whole thing. Stick to walking around my own boring neighborhood. This whole “Eastside Sports” vibe felt toxic. But then, one afternoon, I was just driving near one of the main trail areas, checking it out. Saw an older fella on the side of the path, wrestling with his bike chain. Looked like a simple, well-used bike, nothing fancy. I stopped, offered my multi-tool. We got chatting.
Turns out, he’d been riding these parts for decades. Hated the fancy shops and the online drama just as much as I did after my brief exposure. He just liked riding his bike. He pointed out a couple of genuinely good, non-intimidating shops miles away from the main drag. Showed me on my phone where the actually easy trails started, the ones not plastered all over the ‘pro’ maps. No judgment, no lecture. Just a guy sharing his passion.
So, my conclusion? That whole hyped-up “Eastside Sports” thing, the expensive shops, the online posturing? It’s mostly garbage. A bubble for people who care more about looking the part than doing the thing. The real deal is probably folks like that old guy, quietly enjoying the outdoors without needing validation from some exclusive scene. I decided then and there: forget the fancy gear, forget the groups. I’ll find an old bike, fix it up maybe. Explore those quiet trails he mentioned. That feels more real anyway.
