Everyone is scared of something when it comes to mountain biking. Whether it’s speed, falling, steep descents or endo’s, odds are you have one particular fear that you wish you could finally overcome.

Until a few weeks ago, I was afraid of leaving the saddle on descents. That’s right, a mountain biker who’s afraid of riding on anything steeper than his mom’s front driveway. I suppose it’s appropriate that right now I’m on a plane 30,000 feet above Ohio, contemplating heights, hills, and adrenaline.

Now I realize there are some of you who aren’t afraid of anything. At least you won’t admit to having a particular fear. That’s fine; I’m not intimidated by you anymore. You and your bionic friends can ride up an active volcano and back if you want; I’ll even give you a high five when you’re done.

Then there’s little ol’ me. I weeble-wobbled my way down everything until just a few short weeks ago. Don’t ask me why I was so scared of leaving my precious seat, because I honestly have no idea. I would consistently go down something steeper than I could handle at one mph, enjoy a beautiful millisecond of weightlessness, then smack! I wind up eating rocks — not what I generally recommend for lunch.

I got tired of this very quickly. I mean really, how much can you enjoy mountain biking without at least somewhat liking technical descents? You don’t have to be a hardcore downhiller to achieve a moderate level of success on a particularly steep run, you just need confidence and finesse.

The problem with people like me is that we read too many biking magazines. For months, I’d look at these great photo shoots of guys smiling as they rode off cliffs, girls upside down, 40 feet in the air and winking at the cameraman… what the heck is wrong with you people? I’m sitting in an emergency exit row of my plane right now, and I’d be happy to open the hatch and let you ride off the wing. Seriously, all of you with 40 inches of rear travel and an iron will feel free, five unobstructed miles of freedom await!

I’m done venting, I swear. The key here is to start somewhere, and that’s what everyone who’s a little edgy about getting over the rear wheel needs to do. Go to a local park (or anywhere with a decent hill for that matter) and practice. It’s probably a good idea to go somewhere with forgiving terrain, because yes, you probably will fall once or twice. I started in front of a local hotel on a relatively steep hill on the front lawn.

This is where commitment and finesse come into play. Once you’re ready to roll over that intimidating precipice, all you have to do is keep some speed and pretend like you know what you’re doing. That hill I was talking about looked ridiculous at first. For a week, I watched my friends shoot down this thing with ease before I mustered enough courage to take the plunge. Just make sure that you’re serious before you leave the safety of level ground. If you freeze right after you’ve committed, you’ll crash and wreck your face. Yes, I’ve done that too!

When I say “finesse,” I don’t mean that you should go down looking all beautiful and graceful. Only Liv Tyler could do that. What I do mean is that you need to develop a method of tackling pieces of downhill that work, and it’s going to be a little different for everybody.

The secret is simple: use speed to your advantage. Going down too slow is always a bad idea if you aren’t familiar with the terrain. More speed means more balance, so at first, go down as fast as you can manage. As you start to get the feel of your bike, go down slower. After awhile you shouldn’t have a problem balancing at low speed, and in turn you’ll begin to understand the limits of your bike and your own balance.

Now I realize that to the majority of the intermediate and advanced riders this is obvious stuff. However, being the blue collar rider that I am means I never figure these things out until after everybody else. I usually side with trial and error, and even though I get bloody sometimes, one way or another something finally works.

Although I’m still learning, I feel much more confident than I used to. Hopefully, the next time I wreck I’ll have a worthwhile story to accompany it. Maybe I’ll have to outrun a bear in Alaska and fall trying to jump a 10 foot creek. Maybe not. Regardless, though I’m still not the rider I want to be; I think I’m slowly starting to put fear in its place.