Coasting south on the Bryant Avenue bikeway, riders coming from all directions coalesced with me as we approached the meeting place of Genosack’s second slow-pace ride of the summer. I learned of this ride from a few friends and dear acquaintances who have been participating since the beginning way back in September 2023.
If you missed the first three, do not worry. One more official ride is scheduled on Monday, September 8. And if, like last year, the weather is kind, the group might throw another ride well into autumn.
Mine was the second of four rides this summer hosted by this cycling enthusiast organization. I learned that Genosack (“GEE-no sack”) is many things:
- A collection of friends.
- A traveling bikepacking crew.
- A multi-media art project.
- A community fundraiser to support numerous causes and foundations.
- Even a custom bike accessory design team as many members have their own custom bike equipment and accoutrements with gear companies like Crust Bikes and Blue Lug.
Given Genosack’s numerous outlets of expression and equipment with their name and designs emblazoned on it, you would be forgiven for thinking a big limited liability corporation is behind this endeavor. But at Genosack’s center is simply an organic group of friends who like to get dirty taking overlooked paths while sharing that love with the public.
“We believe cycling is a gateway to building stronger communities, fostering sustainability and cultivating a deeper respect for the world we share,” says co-founder Ethan Buck. How this will manifest on any given venture is not limited to what Genosack has done in the past, but takes the shape of whatever meets the needs of the young artists, athletes and misfits united by all-terrain cycling. They turned their friendship outward into community engagement rides, long-distance missions to make camp around a communal fire pit and bask in beautiful scenery together.
But the focus today is on the organization’s most prominent offering to the public: the monthly community bike rides that started in September 2023, led by co-founder Justin You. Although the skilled riders who make up Genosack’s core have an affinity for dirt roads through the woods, the Monday summer rides are for the community, for cyclists of all skill levels so this particular ride was designed around Minneapolis and St. Paul’s plentiful network of paved trails, kept at a leisurely pace by marshals at the front of the pack while the route stays manageable between five to ten miles.
We pulled into the beautiful Lyndale Park Rose Garden on the northeast corner of Lake Harriet at 6:45 p.m. Woven through the park are bright red clay walking paths that trace the vines around the vast greenspace. The park itself was so stunning that I was surprised I had never been here before. This park was part of Theodore Wirth’s early vision for Minneapolis as park superintendent. During his 30-year tenure beginning in 1906, Wirth tripled Minneapolis/St. Paul’s park system from 1,800 to 5,241 acres. And on this June evening, the rose and perennial gardens were in peak bloom. Already the route had shown me a part of my own city outside of my usual path, worthy of going out of my way to revisit.
And there under an enormous tree were almost 100 bikes and bikers. In its own words, Genosack’s mission “is to create an inclusive cycling community that encourages and empowers people from all walks of life to embrace the outdoors.” And their community is flourishing. By the time we mounted our bikes, roughly 150 riders lined up to participate.
Genosack not only has a daunting physical presence, the group has amassed just under 8,000 followers on the Genosack YouTube channel featuring impressive all-terrain biking videography reminiscent of ‘90s-era Sony VX1000 fish-eye lens skate promos. In these videos set to breezy indie rock, hip hop and soul tunes, the riders go on scenic off-road adventures together, cooking for one another over a tiny camp stove, hit improvised jumps off of any angular surface imaginable — all while making one another laugh constantly. These folks cannot get enough of one another’s company. They have cultivated a large following of in-person and online acolytes.
Genosack encourages you to really look around, past the normal curves of your daily routine and let a moment fill you up.
Buck says of their mixed-media presence: “Through our media, storytelling and shared experiences, we aim to inspire more individuals to ride, connect with nature, and appreciate the land and environment around them.”
While their videos tend to feature the core group who primarily make up the ride-marshal team, the Genosack summer rides are truly for the public. There are participants of all types: young and old, physically able or needing accommodation, some wearing band T-shirts with cut-off shorts and a few of those sporting clip-in shoes, fitness trackers and moisture-wicking technology (though this last group was significantly outnumbered). Everything from the slow pace, an insistence on staying home if you are sick and to bring a mask in case others ask for it in their company, and opposing oppressive behavior all stem from Genosack’s focus on community.
Most participants, including the organizers and attendees, wore some combination of helmets, safety vests and bike lights given that the ride ended at sunset, though the activities wouldn’t stop then and there. All geared up, we began rolling out around 7:15 p.m.
Plenty of seasoned Genosack followers constitute this ride, but for many like myself, this was a first. Pulling out of Lyndale Park, there was a brief and slightly cumbersome learning curve as we all figured out how to deal with one another’s personal space. Although experience with group riding is not required, you quickly pick up on the experienced riders’ telephone technique: calling out your position when you approach another rider from either side, communicating the appearance of oncoming cars and the marshals shepherd stray riders back into the right lane. “Car up!” gets passed from front to back like the wave at a sporting event.
We quickly learned the vocabulary of calling out “stopping,” “behind” and “on your left” to efficiently protect against collisions with one another. Despite the public riders’ “party pace,” Genosack marshals had a crucial job to perform. Two at a time, our hosts in white custom reflective vests would make a mad dash to the front of the line after acting as a sentry to cross traffic. Rarely were they in such a rush that they couldn’t stylishly hop a curb or maintain an extended wheelie. But they took their roles seriously. When we left bike paths to take to the streets, ride marshals rode the center line and regularly barked commands at passing cars to watch out for the riders. Under Genosack’s care, the normally car-dominant traffic was completely deferential to us.
At the midway point to our destination, we gathered at a crossbridge along Minnehaha Creekside Park in Minneapolis. Coolers were popped, and waters and beer flowed while everyone took a breather. Almost everyone. Before I knew what was happening, two bikers building alarming speed launched over an embankment, flashed the audience a stylish aerial maneuver and landed clean — to which the crowd offered up riotous hooting and hollering.
This is when the professionals got to flex: Although the Monday ride is smooth and simple to allow virtually anyone to participate, the Genosack team and their close-knit circle are impressively skilled all-terrain performers. One by one, bikers lined up to perform death-defying jumps over the walking path paved over a steep hill embankment. Some were experts, others were daring for the first time; and in keeping with Genosack’s spirit, the newbies received the biggest yawps of approval.
This stop was emblematic for Genosack as a whole. While our world is not designed to support bike recreation, cyclists will play around with existing architecture and bend it to their will. And their joy is an act of resistance.
As we crested over the north side of Lake Nokomis into our destination and the sun rested over the tree line, the congregation of bikers had a more tranquil energy than I expected from such a wild and rowdy crew. But of course, this was not a race: This is a community gathering.
Genosack’s following has also garnered some modest sponsorships. In putting their sponsors to work, the coolers were refreshed with sparkling sodas, light beers (for hydration) and a surely cursed concoction of vodka and electrolyte-replenishing sports drink. I suppose it was only a matter of time until someone bundled the hangover fixer with its antecedent. (I helped myself to a little of everything for journalistic purposes.)
But the resources and money the Genosack organizers accrue do not line their pockets. These rides offer a platform to make changes in their community as well as extending a helping hand to our global community. This ride’s raffle cost $5 a ticket, or whatever you could afford. The take was used to support Black Mesa Trust, a non-profit raising funds for the Hopi tribe of Arizona’s efforts to prevent continuous land theft by supporting families resisting their relocation. Genosack’s team encouraged everyone to watch the documentary “Broken Rainbow” (1985) about the Hopi’s historic struggle with the U.S. government’s continuous encroachment on tribal lands.
As the final prizes from the raffle were scooped up, under the canopy of a nearby oak tree the DJ with his digital turntable ramped up some house music to cap the night off. It took a few brave souls to open up the dance floor, but by 11 p.m., everybody was shimmying to the beat.
Come on Along!
Genosack’s official cri de coeur states: “We’re committed to making cycling a tool for positive change both for individuals and for the planet. Together, we ride for connection, awareness and a more inclusive, eco-conscious future.”
This ride represented the call to action. Environmental transit was practiced and elevated, friendships were forged and generations intersected. We all witnessed newcomers’ brave harrowing feats while professional racers laid back in the cut. I struck up conversations with photographers, a few tattoo artists, chefs, nurses, teachers and even an unconventional economist. A few solo travelers ended the route mingling with the ride veterans. Most of all, Genosack encourages you to really look around, past the normal curves of your daily routine and let a moment fill you up.
There is one more ride this summer, and I encourage you to find Genosack on Monday, September 8. Join their mailing list or follow them on social media to find out about the next meet-up location.
All photography by Aaron Grafing, unless noted otherwise.