It’s kind of funny: just a few years ago, I was out on my new eMTB, all pumped and excited. Riding my bike with electric assistance, making my way over hills and through valleys, up and down, faster and farther. At 60, I’m riding again, like I did 30 years ago – it felt like the beginning of a second youth. Now, five years later and freshly retired, I realise that something important had been missing during those years.
Lake Garda, Winterberg, Provence on a mountain bike, Mallorca on thin tires and drop-bars. I used to spend my precious time off climbing mountains with an analogue bike – and doing it was making me happy. . No motor, no battery, no smartphone– just me, sometimes a handful of like-minded friends, nature, and the steady rhythm of our breaths getting increasingly louder the higher we went. On hot summer days, clusters of sweat drip down our foreheads with each pedal stroke.
It was never about being the fastest, but about having the greatest of times.
Once at the top, we enjoyed our reward: the feeling of conquering the mountain under our own steam, soaking up the views, and embracing the silence. I’d often collapse onto the gravel, wiping the sweat from my burning eyes. A few sips of water from the bladder, now as tepid as tea, and a cheese sandwich for an unconventional energy bar. Et voilà: my old definition of happiness.
Then came the e-mountainbike, bringing with it a new allure that few could resist. It felt like the natural course of things: technology advancing, motors and batteries becoming more powerful and quieter, and gradually, more friends swapped their analogue bikes for the future. Why not? Why not tackle climbs more easily, go faster, farther, higher? After all, we’re not getting any younger, and the ache in my muscles after each analog ride finally made the decision. The chance to pile up vertical metres again, without wiping myself out, without the tedious pedalling. It was simply too tempting.
That initial thrill, the way I was effortlessly racking up miles again, was intoxicating. The mountain became a playground, the challenge was a puzzle solved at the push of a button. But with each ride that became easier, I unknowingly drifted further away from something that I only later recognized as a loss. It was as if the pure essence of mountain biking was slowly slipping through my fingers. Sure, riding through forests and landscapes was still impressive, the speed still exhilarating – but the deep connection with nature, the once-intense escape, seemed to fade amidst the push for more speed, higher climbs, longer rides. The meditative calm I once found on long climbs was replaced by the hum of the motor, which not only made the ascent easier but also took away some of the peace and quiet.
Today I’m 65, though I don’t feel like it. My perspective on cycling has changed. What once was a drive for speed and efficiency has transformed into a deep desire for slowness and intensity. Last year, I hesitantly bought another analogue bike – as if it took a step backwards. In reality, it was a step forward, back to my old self. The first ride without a motor reminded me of what had fascinated me about this sport in the first place: the slow climbs, the crunchy noise of gravel, the steady breathing in the quiet forest, the heavy legs, and that well-deserved slice of cake afterwards, which tasted better with every kilometre.
It’s this effort that keeps me young – not to prove anything, but because, paradoxically, it brings me into the moment faster than an e-bike ever could, into the here and now.
I’ve realised that true fulfilment lies in slowness, not speed.
I don’t demonise e-bikes. Mine still has a place in the garage and serves a purpose, especially on longer rides and when I’m out with my son Julian – the art director of ENDURO and E-MOUNTAINBIKE Magazine – and with friends who want to push the pace. But when I’m riding solo, it’s the analog bike that truly fulfils me. It forces me to slow down, listen to my body, and experience every moment more mindfully.
It’s not about age, but about attitude. The e-bike gave me back the feeling of conquering mountains and riding like I used to – at least for a while. But mountain biking isn’t just a sport, it’s a way to ground myself and stay present. #metime. It’s not about how fast or far you go, it’s about reconnecting with what really matters. In the end, it’s about balance – sometimes with, sometimes without a motor. The key is not to forget what originally drew you to mountain biking in the first place. So, get out there and ride your bike!
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Words: Werner Lemme Photos: Peter Walker, Hendrik Kellner
