I hate group rides. Just the thought of them fills me with anxiety and nervous energy. I don’t want to spend my ride chasing someone faster than me and, conversely, I’d rather not wait on people either. Selfishly, I want to go where I want to go at my own speed, whatever speed that may be on that particular day.

The thought of a swarm of strangers in a conga line on some random trail fills me with dread, and the inevitable parking lot posturing and competitiveness just isn’t my scene. It’s the antithesis of why I ride bikes. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s just not my thing.

Now, I’m not some crusty, old loner, and I wouldn’t call myself shy, either. But I’ve had an irrational fear of group rides since I was a teenager. No matter how much I’ve aged or progressed as a rider, I’ve never grown out of it. Despite my anxieties, there are few things I enjoy more than a long ride with a couple close friends. Nothing beats a day filled with laughter, shit-talking, a few falls here and there, and occasionally stopping for the good conversation that comes with a group outing. I always find—well, almost always find—something refreshing about sharing time on my bike in nature with a select few people.

Some of the best trails I’ve ridden and the best friends I’ve made have come from group rides. Between my career and persistent wanderlust, I have been fortunate enough to travel and ride trails in every state in the U.S. and in many countries across the world. Good people exist everywhere, I’ve come to learn.