My First Race
I can still remember my first mountain bike race. I was 13 years old. The race was the Dragon?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s Breath mountain bike race in Middleburg, Virginia. 1996. I can sort of remember the course. It was an 5ish mile loop (3 laps) at the Notre Dame Academy composed entirely of East Coast single track. Rocks, roots, loam and climbs were in abundance. I can?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t remember how I finished, and the internet doesn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t seem to remember 1996 either. But I do remember the feeling, a sense of accomplishment and an overwhelming euphoria. I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve been hooked ever since.
Fast forward 13 years. Yesterday I had my first mountain bike race, at least it felt that way. I woke up at 5 am, grabbed a quick shower, and went to load the car up. It was 25 degrees when I got outside. As I drove to my friend and fellow single speeder Andrew?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s house I tried to pump myself up. 4 hours of driving, a race and 4 more hours of driving were in front of me. We got on the road pretty fast and we were making good time to the race, that is, until we hit the snow. It must have dumped 5 inches in central Utah, and it looked as though a plow hadn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t seen most of the roads in days. An overwhelming sense of dread overcame us, what if it had snowed in St. George? We?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢d be driving 8 hours for nothing. But as we descended out of the mountains into the red rock desert we saw that our fears were unfounded. The temperature warmed to a cool 45 degrees and there wasn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t a snow flake to be seen.
The size of the event was impressive. I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve been to some big bike races, and I honestly expected the first race of the series to have a low turnout. As we crested the ridge onto BLM land we saw the sea of cars and tents sprawled across the desert floor. This was going to be a good time.
They don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t call it the ?¢‚Ǩ?ìRed Rock Desert Rampage?¢‚Ǩ¬ù for nothing.
We got registered, got dressed, got the bikes ready and started riding around to warm up a little bit. This was Andrew?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s first cross country race and my first short xc single speed race.
Andrew getting warm.
Last second adjustments.
We heard the announcement for the rider meeting and got ourselves down to the line. The format was interesting, the beginners raced first and were already done. In front of us were the pro, semi-pro and expert men and women. There were a lot of factory team outfits. The starts were staggered, but not by much. I knew I was going to get passed, a lot.
A lot of pros.
The course was different than anything I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve ever raced on. The 12 Miles of Hell is the nearest comparison. We started on a long flat fire road. I spun out immediately and started kicking myself for my gear choice. The course took us up and down some rollers on the fire road. Then the climb started. The trail climbed up a series of slick rock steps through a canyon. I immediately started praising my gear, even as I watched the top 10 single speeders (including Andrew) take off. We climbed up onto a series of double track climbs, those then fed into some more single track climbing. I kept looking up, hoping to see the leaders turning to a downhill or at least a flat, but it seemed to be forever before I finally reached the top of the ridge. The trail rounded the top and immediately dove down the same distance as the climb. I was in heaven. Even as I was muscling the Vassago sideways to avoid square boulders I couldn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t help but feel like this was how a race should be: a wide open course with a lung busting climb followed by a screaming downhill, it was less like a race, and more like an amazing epic ride. But as I reached the curve at the bottom it dawned on me that I had not gone even close to 7 miles. Then it happened, the trail hooked a right (back up) into a slick rock canyon full of stair steps. I settled in for the climb, and climbed, and climbed, and climbed. The double track got so steep at one point that I had to walk it. I don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t know if it was gearing or fitness or both, but I knew I would be walking that stretch again. By the time I reached the top of the ridge (again, only higher) my heart was organizing a mutiny with my lungs, lungs, calves and thighs as cohorts. The trail turned onto the ridge line and followed a couple of rolling climbs and descents through some rock gardens until it turned back down. I felt like I was ripping it, even though a rider on a full suspension geared bike would occasionally pass. I was going as fast as gravity and pure awesome terror would allow me. Then the trail dumped back into the fire road at the start. Rinse, and repeat.
The second lap seemed much easier, I found my flow and my heart decided to stick with my leadership for at least a little while longer. I let a lot of riders go by, probably experts who were lapping me by this point. The second lap seemed to fly by and before I knew it I was walking up the steep double track again, almost at the final downhill. I ripped it again, and I felt the best that I have on a mountain bike in a long time. Some pros from the Cannondale team went screaming by at the bottom and one guy who was racing expert on his SS passed me at the finish. I found Andrew, who I took it had finished well in front of me and headed to the car to chug a beer.
Andrew, a beer and Jersey, our other companion for the day. She didn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t race.
Incomplete results. I would love to have been 8th. For some reason there are two expert women in there.
I still don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t know what the results were, but I know that as I was sitting at the In-n-Out burger I was filled with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and euphoria. The first of many painful and awesome rides was over. I might have been DFL, but I couldn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t care one iota. I had the time of my life and I got to race on a course I was completely unprepared for in conditions I have yet to really acclimatize to. I felt like I had just done my first race all over again, and I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m hooked. One down, eleven to go!
Results posted: Ryan Cobourn: 15th. DFL baby! Ames Promoting
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