Bump N' Grind...and Cuss

I know now why it's been over 13 years since I last raced a mountain bike.

The Bump N' Grind is the largest mountain bike race in the southeast. I felt a little nauseaus driving to the race site and seeing just a mob of racers.

I just didn't have the time or confidence to ride my old bike. My fork was shot and the hodge podge of parts I was going to use just didn't work well together, so I borrowed a Litespeed from the Fizik rep. I spent my warm up increasing the height of the saddle until I felt comfortable, then went to stand in the ridiculous staging line. I had no idea what kind of competition there would be or where I stood fitness-wise.

I decided I'd start the race like cyclocross race and go out hard and try and defend my position. I got a good start and rode the first mile in 5th. We hit a short road and I knew we were transitioning into the singletrack section where passing would be harder. I dove inside two guys on the transition and rode third for the next couple of miles. My lack of technical skills left me going wide on some corners and bouncing off some trees, but I managed to stay upright....until.

We started catching groups of slower riders that had started ahead of us about 4 miles in. It is hard to get by them on the narrow trails. One guy told me to pass on his left after the next corner. In my eagerness to get by I overlapped his wheel - he went right, I turned left, but my tire was on the right side of his rear sending me hard into the ground. I had a yard sale - shit went everywhere. Water bottle gone, all my stuff to change a flat littered the forest. I got back up losing two positions - my handlebars askew, but no time to straighten them.

I regained composure as we hit a jeep trail that was wider. The riders in front of me seemed to be standing still and I just laid the hammer down. I moved into second and was feeling incredible physically. Then I started to feel it.....a flat. Of course, all my stuff was gone. I cussed a bit and started walking. A few minutes passed and a guy stopped and said he had seen me earlier riding strongly and that I could have all his stuff. Wow. He handed me a tube, two CO2 cartridges, and adapter and some tire levers. I started changing the flat only to realize that his adapter didn't fit his cartridges! I got just enough air to get going for another mile before another flat. I walked about half a mile until I came upon an old dude sitting on the side of the trail. This little encounter could take up an entire post, but the gist is - he had a pump, a tube and after an agonizing 5 minutes I was on my way.

I knew I was long out of contention, but I had to get rid of my anger and I knew that the big two mile climb I had been dreading was coming up. .... I hammered up that fucking climb like I had wings. Every pedal stroke pissed me off more because I'm not a natural climber. I couldn't believe how strong I felt and all I could think about was how I would have finished very well if I didn't have mechanical gremlins. I started counting riders as I passed them just to give myself motivation. I passed 32 riders over the two mile climb. I bombed the next downhill section into the "rock garden" and into Blood Rock.

Blood Rock was more than I had even been lead to believe. Throngs of people screaming as riders approached a ridiculous series of huge rocks in the trail - all while going downhill. Many people advised me to get off and walk this section. I was pissed and rode it - almost to my demise and to the cheers of drunk mountain bike fans. I nose-wheelied off the last drop-off, a sure trip to the ER if I didn't land it. Blood Rock behind me and still feeling good. Then, in one of the smoothest sections of the course......another flat. Day over....

To say I enjoyed the 5 mile walk to the finish would be stupid, but I needed just about that distance to gain my composure. Everybody I had spent the last half hour passing rode by. Men, women, parapalegics, dogs, snails, turtles. I walked across the line alone, covered in mud, a little blood, and dragging my flat tired bike all alone. To add insult to injury, I was officially scored as DNF. Didn't even get credit for my hike and bike.

The only solace I got was that I was just one of tons of people that got flats. The trailside was a myriad of people changing tires as the brutal course took its toll. One guy rode by me on a downhill with no chain. I know one local rider who had three flats as well, but had all the tools to get them all changed. I have a hard time wanting to compete in a sport where mechanical failures have way too much of an influence on the results.

If I had a normal job with weekends off and the money to race I'd have a real dilemma right now. Would I sulk off, justified that I was stupid to ever try it or would I train my ass off and get some redemption on this stupid sport? One day I'm going to grow up and just do things for fun - right now I'm just pissed off.