Fun Hurts!

Hoosier Pass is only ten miles south of Breckenridge, and it’s infamous for terrible weather conditions all year round. And the nature couldn’t care less that today is the one and only, July 4th, when the entire country is set to have a good time and have fun, each of their own kind. When I crossed the pass around 8 o’clock in the morning, it was grim and foggy. This was a warning, the last moment before the race when I should’ve made a note for myself. A note that I have written, if not engraved all over my brain multiple times, and yet sometimes I miss it when I need it the most. It comes in many different wordings, but essentially it sums up to “they are the mighty mountains, and you are a pitiful bug, so don’t be stupid and respect the authority.” But I rolled through in the comfort of a modern SUV, as if nature’s actions didn’t apply to me.

Here should come a picture of an empty pocket of my jersey. Yeah, I didn’t bring a rain jacket with me. Would it make a difference if I did? Frankly, no. But illustrates the point. I came with an expectation of “how bad a 50-mile race can possibly be”. And I had two reasons to think that way, which did look absolutely compelling to me at the moment.

First, I’ve done a few races before. And 50 miles is about the lowest distance I’d even consider signing up for. Less than that wouldn’t be worth the drive. A nerd inside me wants to crunch all kinds of numbers here, such as elevation gain, gradients, technicality, and so on, and then compare them to past races. It won’t take long before I lose your attention, so take my word for it: on paper, Firecracker 50 looks… normal.

Second, I had a classic Plan B: if I don’t feel like it, I’d back off and enjoy the ride. Dead simple, isn’t it? Hmmm… Now, when I said it out loud, typed that, it occurs to me that maybe this whole plan B idea was, in fact, the root of all the misery that I went through. I’ll have to save this thought for the end of the story, when I come to the self-reflection part of it.

Parade

As I whined multiple times already, we, amateur racers, often get what we deserve when it comes to attention from the crowd and staff. Which is none. No one ever wrote my name on a paved road climb. No one ever begged for my sticky, dusty bottle. Sadly, no one ever held a printed photo of my pretty face on a stick. I hope it’s obvious enough that I’m being sarcastic.

Firecracker is different. At last! While hundreds of mountain bikers were warming up their engines, sprinting chaotically up, down, and across every little street in downtown Breckenridge, local families were walking down the sidewalks all in the same predictable direction — down the hill and towards Main Street, where the Independence Day parade was about to begin. And we, riders, are between the tapes on this one. We’re the entertainment, not the entertainees. Which is pretty cool in my opinion, regardless of which side you are on. I haven’t seen the parade in Breck, but the one in my hometown isn't especially captivating and could definitely use something different than the same 1983 DeLorean rolling down the same street year after year after year.

If I were the one in a folding armchair, with a tumbler of coffee, I’d very much enjoy scrutinizing such a mixed crowd lining up on their same but different contraptions. Wanna bet whose tires won’t survive the course? Or would you like to put a wager on the fact that this guy in aero socks will say “enough of me” after the first lap? Have at it! Our steel, titanium, and carbon fiber horses are happy to bring something new to your annual candy-grabbing routine.

But being on the inside of the fenced starting chute, I did my part by giving a high-five to every single stretched-out kid’s hand I could reach.

Lap 1

I’ll keep this part short (and lap 2 will be even shorter). As many YouTubers often do when they give you a 30-minute-long pre-race intro, and then say “oh, and my action cam battery died two minutes before the start”. So, yeah. Here it is: frigid, hail, slit, mud. A lot of mud.

At the end of the lap, I was a hair short of throwing the towel. And right there, the sun finally showed some mercy. Fingers thawed, and a Boreas Pass Rd climb seemed like a good recovery interval for the legs. Alright, I'll stay in it for a little longer, as it’s almost never too late to turn around.

Lap 2

Hero dirt everywhere, but it’s a little bit too late to the party.

So, what was so hard about it?

This report was long overdue. I wrote the beginning sometime in the summer, and I’m finishing it now at the end of November. A few days ago, I did a workout that, although hard physically, was more about mental strength. The focus was to practice a few different techniques over six intervals. I was sceptical at the start, but by the end it grew up on me. I’m now considering putting more effort into this kind of non-physical self-improvement. I’m mentioning it here because I believe that it was not the adversities themselves that defined my experience. It’s the mindset that became the straw that broke the camel’s back.

If you set yourself up for success, you might get what you’re aiming for or not. Depending on all the factors you control and the ones you don’t, it might even be a one-in-a-million chance to have a good day, but as Jim Carrey would say, “So, you’re telling me, there’s a chance”!..

But if your strategy starts with the words “if I don’t feel like it”… you must know that it’s not an IF anymore, it’s a WHEN now. And my “when” didn’t take long. 50 minutes into the race, when we were approaching a spot closest to the weather gods on a Y-axis, they threw everything at us, and I wasn’t prepared to suck it all up as an aspired athlete should. I kept riding for another five hours, sometimes trying to do my best, but in fact — here was the moment when I gave up.

It does not mean you (and I) can’t treat a bike race as an adventure. At the end of the day, how many of us are fighting for the top spot? But the key is to make that choice before getting to the start line, and then stick to it. Attempting to stay flexible can make you fragile.