Summary
I started Gravel & Grass for riders who love bikes, music, and being outside, but do not see themselves in most cycling gear reviews. After getting back into mountain and gravel riding in the Mid‑Atlantic in my fifties, I realized a lot of kit coverage assumes a leaner, more race‑oriented rider than I will ever be. This post explains why I am writing about gear from the perspective of a normal rider who wants comfort, function, pockets, and a style that fits real life.
Good Times, Not Podiums
Gravel & Grass was never meant to be a training log or a race report site. It is about good rides, good music, and trying to build a life that feels a little better than the one you had before. I care about health and fitness, but I am not chasing a race calendar. I am chasing more days outside, more miles with friends, and more nights where my legs are pleasantly tired while a live show plays in the background.
If you walked into my home office, you would see that mix in physical form. The walls are crowded with framed ticket stubs and concert posters from shows that still live in my head years later. Around the room are the usual signs of a cycling habit that got out of hand in a mostly healthy way: bike computers, taillights, bike shoes, tools, snacks, and bits of riding gear that always seem to be between “put away” and “ready for the next ride.” It is a space built by someone who loves gravel and dirt and also loves lingering over an old Flatt and Scruggs record while planning the next route.
That mix is the lens I use when I think about gear. I am not trying to dress or ride like a pro. I am trying to find clothes that work for a normal rider who spends a lot of time on Mid‑Atlantic gravel and singletrack, listens to live sets on Nugs or Live Music Archive, and is just as likely to reward a long ride with an ice cream cookie sandwich at The Baked Bear as with a new personal best.
How I Ended Up Back On Bikes
About four years ago, I started trying to fix some things. I was over 250 pounds, not feeling particularly good, and knew I needed to make a real change. For a while I went hard in the other direction. I cut out sugar completely and got serious about exercise. I dropped down to about 185 pounds. The problem was that version of “healthy” was not very sustainable.
Over time I gained a good bit of the weight back and settled in around 225, which is where I am now. I would still like to get back closer to 200, but these days I care more about building something realistic than proving I can be temporarily extreme.
That four‑year stretch also included quitting some bad habits, which changed a lot more than just my diet. It gave me more time, more clarity, and a better sense of what I actually enjoy. One of the things that came back into focus was bikes.
I had one of the original mountain bikes back in college, a Diamond Back Apex with no suspension, plus a Basso Lotto steel road bike that felt very Italian and very cool to me at the time. For a long stretch after that I did not ride with any real consistency. Trail running became my main way of getting outside and trying to stay in shape for the first year of my recovery.
Then I went out to visit my brother in Bellingham, Washington to rekindle my relationship with him and mountain biking. His local spot is Galbraith Mountain. Galbraith is a serious mountain bike destination. Transition Bikes headquarters is at the bottom of the mountain and a hangout for riders, pro and amateur. I rented a Transition Sentinel for a few days and the bug came back in a hurry.
I had forgotten how much I liked riding. Not just in a nostalgic way. I mean the actual feeling, the movement, the focus, the scenery, the problem solving. It all clicked again.
When I got home to the Mid‑Atlantic, I bought a Rocky Mountain Element full suspension mountain bike. About 6 months later I added a Rocky Mountain Solo gravel bike to mix things up.
What My Riding Looks Like Now
These days I ride pretty regularly for a normal guy with a job, two kids and a life. Most weeks I am somewhere in the 65 to 100 mile range. That usually means one longer gravel ride on Sunday in the 35 to 45 mile neighborhood, plus a handful of shorter rides during the week in the 60 to 90 minute range. I still lift weights too, which is how I wind up around 400 minutes of exercise most weeks. That number sounds big until you compare it to someone who rides 250 or 300 miles a week. I am not that rider, and I am fine with that.
I ride because it clears my head. I ride because I like being outside. It also helps me feel like I am moving toward something better, even if progress is slow and often interrupted by ice cream and cookies. That balance is part of the point. I care about health. I also care about dessert. I am trying to build a life where both can exist without one constantly canceling out the other.
That is also part of why I started Gravel & Grass. I wanted a place to write about the things I actually enjoy: gravel riding, mountain biking, gear, music, and the kind of outdoor life that feels restorative rather than performative.
Where The Gear Friction Starts
Once I got back into riding, the deeper I went, the more obvious it became that a lot of cycling apparel is still built around a pretty narrow idea of who the rider is supposed to be. That shows up in fit, but it also shows up in style.
On my own, I do not particularly mind wearing spandex. It is practical. It is comfortable on the bike. It is more aerodynamic. I am not out here pretending that baggy shorts are somehow faster or better just because they make me look less like I know what a power meter is. But context matters. On some group rides with friends, especially the trail running and mountain bike crowd, the vibe is a little different. They are in mountain bike shorts and looser t-shirt tops. On those days I do not always want to show up looking like I took a wrong turn on the way to a crit.
That creates a kit problem, especially with jerseys. I do not always want a traditional road jersey. At the same time, I do want pockets. Real ones. Back pockets, side pockets, something that lets me stash a phone, a couple of gels, maybe a key or a small tool, without wearing a pack or stuffing everything into a bag. A lot of mountain bike jerseys skip that entirely. They get the casual side right, but leave out the practical part I actually need.
Bibs are their own issue. Most bib reviews still assume that the reader cares mainly about whether the chamois feels “premium” and whether the cut is race or club. Those things matter, but they are not the whole story if you are built like a normal adult and not a retired junior climber. I want to know how high the bibs come up on the stomach. I want to know whether they stay there while riding. I want to know if the leg ends at a flattering and functional spot mid‑thigh or if it slowly works its way into the back of my knee and starts to annoy me. I want to know if the pockets actually work when I am pedaling, not just when I am standing still in front of a mirror.
Sizing charts give you a rough guess. They do not tell you how a brand thinks a cyclist should be shaped. That is why the same size can feel fine in one line and vaguely insulting in another. In street clothes I usually need less room than I do in cycling gear. In cycling gear I often have to size up. Even then, not every brand gets there. Giordana is a good example. I get why people love it, but even an XXL can still feel pretty tight on me. That is not really a knock on Giordana. It is just a reminder that some brands are cut for a body type that may be in my ancestry somewhere, but is not currently in my mirror.
Why Most Reviews Miss Riders Like Me
A lot of gravel kit reviews are not wrong. They are just written from a point of view that does not line up with mine. Many reviewers are lighter, leaner, and a lot closer to the traditional cyclist build than I am. When they say something fits true to size, they may be right for themselves. When they call a jersey relaxed, they may mean relaxed compared to a race jersey, not relaxed compared to an actual T shirt. When they say cargo pockets are useful, they may not mean useful for the same stuff I carry or the same way I ride.
What I am looking for is a little different. I want gear that works for a rider who is trying to be healthy without pretending to be a monk. Someone who rides often but not professionally. Someone who likes the convenience of bib pockets and the social flexibility of not always dressing like a roadie. Someone who spends as much time thinking about the playlist as the route.
That is where I think Gravel & Grass can add something small but useful. Not by being the final word on any product, but by talking honestly about what works or does not work for a rider with an ordinary body, a real life, and a soft spot for both dirt roads and live shows.
How I Started Sorting Through The Noise
To sort through some of this, I started using AI as a research tool before buying anything. Not to tell me what to think, but to help me do the kind of homework I was probably not going to do well on my own. Size charts, review snippets, brand tendencies, reddit feedback, fit notes, pocket layouts, it all went into the blender. That process helped me narrow down some bib and jersey options that seemed more likely to work for my body and the way I ride.
The first result of that research was a new pair of cargo bibs. The second was a jersey that tried to split the difference between road function and mountain bike attitude. Those are the next two posts. In those I will get into the actual products, the fit, the comparisons, and what worked better in practice than it did on paper.
What This Post Is Really For
For now, this is just the introduction. If you have ever looked at a cycling kit review and thought, “That is great, but this person and I are solving completely different problems,” then you are probably in the right place. Gravel & Grass is for people who ride because it makes life better, who like music and movement and being outside, and who want gear that helps rather than distracts.
Good times, not podiums. That is the idea.