(Mis)Adventures in Mountain Biking

A couple of weekends ago, I headed out to Idyllwyld for a 24-hour mountain bike race put on by 24 Hours of Adrenalin. A 24-hour race is done in teams (unless you’re a masochist and want to do it solo) where riders go out one at a time doing a lap around a course, then handing off a baton to the next rider for twenty-four hours. The winning team being the one that makes the most laps in 24 hours.

I joined the Hollywood Pro Bicycles “corporate team”. We were the “doing it for fun” team. They also had a competitive team. Seeing as I had only been mountain biking a couple of times before, that was not my scene. It made for a great weekend. Since our team was large and slow, there was a fair amount of downtime while we waited for our turn to come up, so it was essentially a weekend of very relaxed camping with the occasional bit of mountain biking and lots and lots of eating.

The race started at noon on Saturday, April 26, and went until noon the next day. I didn’t get to do my first lap until late into the evening just as the sun was starting to set. My lap coincided with the start of a lap from a rider from the competitve HPB team. I decided I’d try sticking to his wheel to pace myself and actually did fairly well with that up until the first check point, that leg being mostly a long climb. Going downhill on a mountain bike still scares the crap out of me, but I’m finding that I do the uphills really well. I also happen to enjoy the climbing, burning lungs, screaming legs, and all, since nailing technical bits is pretty satisfying and the fact that I’m not terrified means I can enjoy the ride more.

So anyways, everything was going pretty well up to the first checkpoint. Then the trail started into a long but not too steep downhill. Swallowing my fear, I kept sticking to the HPB competitive rider, trusting he knew what he was doing and following his line. Unfortunately, as I was zooming down the trail at around 20mph, I over-corrected my steering and my front wheel came up against a raised side of the trail, sending me face-first over the handlebars. As I watched the dirt striking my glasses, my first thought was “NOOO!!!!! THE WEDDING PHOTOS!!!!” Of all the places I could have gotten scraped up, it had to be on my face. Luckily, scrapes were all that I suffered as I checked myself and my bike over. A nearby spectator asked if I was alright and offered me her water bottle, which I used to quickly wash my face and rinse out my grit-filled mouth. Still running on adrenaline, I thanked her and hopped back on to my bike - shaken and more cautious, but still wanting to finish quickly so I could get properly cleaned up.

The second mishap on this lap occurred as the sun set and the trail darkened. I flipped on my NiteRider MiNewt.x2 to light my way, only to find that it was malfunctioning. It would stay on for about three seconds, then turn off. (Later, I asked the HPB mechanic about it and he suggested it might be a bad ballast.) I don’t know if this is a result of my crash, though it had happened once before a month ago on a Midnight Ridazz-type ride, but hadn’t happened again so I thought it was some weird fluke. Frustrated, I continued on to the second checkpoint with what little light was left in the day. At the checkpoint, I snagged some alcohol wipes for my scrapes, and continued on, but it was getting too dark. I rigged up my light’s battery pack next to my left brake lever such that the “on” button was next to my thumb and I could push the button every couple of seconds while still keeping my hands on the handlebar. This worked okay, but got very painful very fast and I still had some six miles to go. On the downhills, though, this technique was not an option as it interfered with my ability to operate the front brake. I had to run down those stretches with bike in hand.

The third blow that really broke my spirit came less than a mile from the end. I missed a turn-off. The route I took lead me to an impassible wall of rocks. Confused, I backtracked a bit and tried another path with no success. Now officially lost I shouted and cursed into the dark. There were some bike tracks in the dirt so I wasn’t the only that made this mistake. I decided I’d just walk my bike back the way I had come until I saw another rider. After maybe a quarter mile of backtracking, I found the sign that indicating where I had missed my turn. I probably didn’t see it the first time around because my light was off.

Once I was back on track I quickly finished off the lap. To top off my dismay, as I crossed the finish line a group of kids let out a collective gasp as one of them exclaimed “Woh!!! Look at his face!!!” My wedding photo woes, which had been forgotten in the midst of my lighting frustrations quickly returned and my first order of business was to find a mirror to survey the damage. I then headed over to the first aid tent where they cleaned me up. It really was nothing major, just some superficial scrapes. Apparently, the worst injuries from the evening was somebody dislocating their shoulder, and someone else piercing their bicep on a branch - in one side, out the other. As I write this, I’ve already shed my scabs so now it’s just a matter of the skin returning to its normal color.

My spirits improved as I returned to camp and there was a communal bottle of Jameson of which I was able to partake. I was soon able to laugh at the utter ridiculousness of my misfortune and started looking forward to my next lap.

I snagged a few hours of sleep, and woke up around 6AM, just as one of our riders was coming in. With most of my team asleep, I took the baton and headed out for my second attempt. This went much smoother, and I kept a casual pace. Whereas my first lap was done during the sunset, now I was riding in the sunrise, and I took the time to appreciate the gorgeous scenery. All the downhills this time were approached with a lot more, probably excessive, caution and I still walked quite a few of them, but I was enjoying the entire ride. My lap time for the second round was about an hour and thirty minutes. My first lap time was more like an hour and fifty minutes. I returned to camp and handed off the baton, and getting enough rest that when the rider returned, who himself had also had a miserable first lap but a slow and very enjoyable second (he says it was one of the top five rides of his life), I jumped at the chance to squeeze in one more lap before the noon cutoff. That lap time was an hour and fifteen minutes, which I felt pretty good about (the fastest lap time of the entire weekend being, I think, forty-six minutes). Now having been awake, I was able to throw in a little bit more hustle, and I had a bit more confidence in the downhills. And if you check these photos, you can see I was clearly having a good time.

Despite injury, I was pretty psyched on this mountain biking foray and would love to do something similar again - not necessarily in a 24-hour race environment, but just a weekend of car camping and riding - though I think any type of mountain biking will have to wait until after the wedding. Rosie served me well and I I’m pretty satisfied with everything about the bike, especially given my limited skills. Though I will probably want some lighter wheels down the road. A lot of people suggested I get a suspension fork, but I rather like the rigid one it has now. It’s light, makes climbing easier, plus it makes me feel like I’m getting cool points for riding more hard-core sans cushiness, though trying to look like I have mad skillz would probably be more effectively executed if I wasn’t crashing my face into things.

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