Mark Twight

Mark Twight, aka MFT
Age: 48

I used to call myself a climber because climbing made me who I am. I did it well. A few of my new routes have not been repeated. One or two speed records remain unbroken. I climbed professionally for fifteen years. I took it as far as I was willing and then retired in 2000.

Punk rock attitude influenced the climbing I did. I and my partners took the DIY ethic to a logical extreme, driving the evolution of single-push climbing. There was a soundtrack and I played it – the harder the climbing the higher the volume.

In October 2006, following a shoulder reconstruction, I found myself on a bike, locked in a trainer, locked in the garage. Not long after I found myself in Max Testa’s office. His father was a climber, trained Italian mountain troops and lived on the Italian side of Mont Blanc, which I knew well. Max suggested I try racing, which I did in 2007.

Before that I didn’t recognize the bike as a tool of self-discovery, a means to break myself down, to rebuild, and to evolve. It was just that two-wheeled thing I used to tried to ride between the Three Great North Faces of the Alps in March 1996.

My experience in the mountains helps in long races because I’ve gone non-stop for longer than anyone I race against but it also hurts me. In the mountains I held something in reserve in case the shit hit the fan. When I do that on the road I finish 30th, and angry. I have to unlearn the thing that kept me alive for so long.

I believe it is one’s duty to work on the front. And more so when no one else is willing. Fuck them. Hiding from the wind to spare themselves for a good result in the sprint – yeah, that’s racing but it’s also lame. I’d rather blow up than suck up. I’m stubborn. But I’ll improve. And when I do, get out of the way.

My soundtrack for riding is the same for all effort: I use it to control mood and tempo. I’m a punk and I admire other punks who didn’t sell out. But I’ll take in a black metal show just as soon as a punk gig. I like demanding music: 16 Horsepower, Skinny Puppy, Arvo Part, Marduk, Meshuggah, Most Precious Blood, etc. In down time I lay back to Swans, Rosetta, Cult of Luna, and the odd downtempo group. Desert island disc? “And Nobody Else”, the double live concert album from New Model Army’s 1998 tour.

Off the bike I am the founder of Gym Jones, which I operate with my wife, Lisa. At its simplest, Gym Jones is a private strength and conditioning facility. A deeper look reveals a project aimed at developing psychological capacities ahead of physical with clients including fighters (MMA, BJJ, boxing), cyclists, runners, climbers, NFL players, pro golfers, a few Hollywood types and special military organizations. We believe the mind is primary. Hard work is our curriculum. Shared suffering is our currency. Our members-only club is called Salvation for a reason.

The Church of the Big Ring ideal resonates with me for exactly this reason: if you aren’t willing to be broken on the cross then don’t break out your bike. If you won’t go hard then don’t go. If your idea of fun isn’t pain and overcoming then you’re riding not racing. Submit to the suffering!

http://www.gymjones.com
http://www.marktwight.com
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