I have said many times that you just never know what will happen on race day. Sometimes your training and preparation can be perfect, and yet you have bad legs. You know it as soon as you start warming up. Other times you might go into a race hungry and without sleep, and have great legs. Then there are times when everything goes perfectly and the planets line up for you. After your first few pedal strokes during warm-up you know there is magic in the legs. On that day I felt like Superman as we warmed up in the parking lot before the race. The pre-race jitters that characterized every other race I had ever done were not there that day. I was calm, confident and relaxed.
As we rolled to a stop at the truck, I turned to Steve and said, “I am going to win today.” He looked back at me and said, “Yeah?” I nodded.
Steve was already racing expert at this point, and his race would be after my sport race. I finalized preparations, and with about 15 minutes left before the race, I cracked open a Pepsi and drank it.
When I rolled up to the start, a lot of guys were already staged. Normally you want to get a good spot on the front line, but I didn’t care. I found a spot near the back.
The starter counted down and we were off. I quickly spotted holes here and there and made my way toward the front.
Within a couple minutes I was already in the lead and pulling away. It seemed too easy.
We wound around the park, and when we hit the first climb I had a big lead. However, about halfway up the climb I took a peek back and saw a guy motoring up to me. As he blew past me at the crest of the climb, I looked down and saw that he only had one gear.
Single speeds were not just rare in 1987, they were practically nonexistent. Paul Sadoff from Rock Lobster crafted his first single speed in 1987, and I know Ibis wasn't far behind, but most people didn't even know they existed until about 1995. We did, because our friend Bob Edwards was one of the single speed pioneers. Anyway, this guy was actually on a 26-inch BMX cruiser, and he had just cruised right past me.
The first downhill was steep and fast. I knew I could make up time if I hit the descent hard, so I decided to leave my fingers off the brake levers and just hold on. I quickly made it back to the single speed guy and rode his wheel all the way down.
At the bottom the course flattened out for a while, and I passed him back. We then hit the second climb and he took the lead again. This time I stayed close and rode with him to the top and back down the descent. He was turning a big gear and I just didn’t think he could maintain the pace we were on.
On the second lap I passed him going up the first climb. Again, I descended the hill and did not touch the brakes. My brain fought hard for self preservation, but I willed my fingers to stay clamped to the grips and not grab the brakes. As I bombed past my dad towards the bottom, I heard him yell out, “Slow down!” I smiled to myself as I blew through the finish line. Like my own brain, he was trying to keep me from killing myself.
For the rest of the second lap I steadily pulled away from the single speeder. Going up the first hill on the third lap I went as hard as I could to put some space between the single speeder and myself. Once again I let go of the brakes all the way down the other side. After the race I would learn that the single speed guy crashed into a boulder behind me and broke his collarbone.
I rode the rest of the third lap as hard as I could. When I came through the finish area to start the last lap I had a huge lead. I decided to ride smart. The only thing that could stop me was a crash or flat tire. I rode the rest of the race at a conservative tempo and enjoyed the ride.
I crossed the line for the win, and I was able to hold my hands in the air for the only time in all my races. It was quite an awesome moment.
There were other wins, of course, and more second places than I care to remember. But mass starts, mixed classes and lap traffic always made it difficult to know if I really won. The last thing you want to do is raise your arms in victory and find out you took third.
The awards ceremony was cool. My dad was there, as well as a number of friends. I made quite a haul in swag, but the parts were nothing I could use on my Ibis. The highly coveted Salsa quill stem was of no use since Ibis was already using clamp-on stems. I also scored a set of IRD cantilever brakes, but my Ibis had roller cams. I sold all of it before leaving the race.
This would be my last race in the sport class for a while. I decided to turn expert for my next race.
Later.
