Race Report: 1986 North Tahoe Classic

There are always races that you look back on that make you shake your head, even decades later. This was definitely one of those races that haunts me a bit.

When we were kids the only way to really get real bike racing news for anything but the Tour de France was in the magazines. In the early 1980s, the Tour de France was still virtually unknown in the US until Greg LeMond hit the scene. Known locally to us as the Reno Rocket, we were already aware of his early exploits in our region. But it was his third (1984), second (1985) and first-place (1986) finishes in the Tour de France that made even casual Americans take notice. Still, all we really gained from Greg's Tour de France fame was a brief results list, in tiny print, hidden in the back of the newspaper sports section with the baseball box scores.

To really get any in-depth reporting of a road race, we had to look at the magazines. Even then the news was often months old before we saw it. Still, we would go to Tower Books to flip through the imported large-format European racing magazines to see who won Paris-Roubaix, Liège-Bastogne-Liège or Milan-San Remo. The beautiful photography captivated me—the vivid colors of the peloton, the idyllic countryside, the drama and the pain etched on the riders' faces, the triumph of victory. Those racers were my heroes, and I dreamed of a day when I myself would be pictured in a magazine. This race would provide that opportunity.

It was only an American mountain bike magazine, a far cry from the big, beautiful color photos in the European racing mags. However, for an aspiring 19-year-old racer, it felt pretty damn cool.

I knew from racing the North Tahoe Classic the previous year that they would probably line us up in a wide, horizontal manner in a field. This unconventional approach was unique to this race in all my years of competing. I suppose it was used to create drama going into the first corner (and boy did it). Armed with this information, I lined up to the very far left, which was the shortest line to the sharp right turn onto the trail.

We took off and I went hard in an effort to get to the first corner near the front. Even if you overextend yourself in the first 20 seconds, it's generally worth it to do this to avoid a bottleneck. You might have to rest a little to recover after the first corner, but it's still a net time savings. Once you hit the singletrack, the tail of the snake is a long way from the head. Be the head.

I raced up the left side and entered the corner in sixth or seventh position. That's me second from the right, coming in hot:

According to the magazine, the first five through the corner were Joe Sloup, Tracy Smith, Max Jones, George Theobald and Mike Jordan. As a young sport class racer, I had no business being at the front with these guys. However, the beginning of the course was pretty technical—a strength of mine in those days—so I hung tough for half a lap before the experts and pros started passing me.

"This is a bike handler's course. If you're a good bike handler, you'll be right up there at the front."

    - Tom Hillard, Specialized

I finished the first four-mile lap feeling pretty good. I knew I was near the top of the sport class, which motivated me to keep pushing. I rode a very clean and fast second lap. As I passed through the start-finish area the second time, I started thinking I could win this thing.

That's me, upper right, in a magazine!

My third lap was smooth and error-free, but I definitely slowed a little. As I passed under the finishing banner for my final lap, the doubt started to creep in.

There was a steep, rocky climb that I cleaned on the first three laps, but on the fourth time up I spun my tire and stalled. As I started walking, a guy came up behind me and asked, "What class?"

"Sport," I replied. 

"Me too," he said as he passed me.

I started running to keep pace with him. When we crested the top I hopped back on the bike and glued myself to his wheel. I stayed there and recovered until the next climb, where I attacked with all I had. I got the gap I wanted and even increased it a little on the following downhill. 

I held him off with a comfortable lead. With a half mile to go, there was a series of slalom turns through some bushes. In my excitement I went into the turns going too fast and overcooked one of the corners, smashing headfirst into a bush. After riding an almost flawless race, this was a very costly mistake.

My pursuer passed me as I looked back in horror from inside the large bush. I frantically tried to extricate myself and the bike from the bush's thorny embrace. When I finally got going again, he was long gone.

If you've ever crashed late in a race, you know what probably happened next. Once your focus is broken, it's tough to recover. The bike has a mind of its own. You can't even steer. The flow is gone.

I lost more time to him in that final half mile by making stupid little mistakes that added up to 86 seconds at the end. I had panicked and let myself become frazzled. A learning moment, for sure.

I would have to settle for second place. It wasn't a big race; there were only 34 finishers in the Sport class. Still, I was stoked to get my first top three finish in Sport, and even more excited that my time would have slotted me in at fourth place in the Expert class. (The fourth place Expert finished in 1:24.)

The Sport names are transposed, but the times are right. I swear I took second.

Fellow ABC rider and friend Bob Edwards won the single speed class. Bob was a single speed pioneer and mentor to us young guys.

Hey, Bob, I won one too.

The North Tahoe Classic was a fun race, one that I competed in four times with varying levels of success. The 1986 version was special, though. It was the first race where I performed really well. After that day I really started to believe that I could be a good racer.

Later.