Framebreak Festival, Kentville Nova Scotia
Three degrees in late September. Four laps including the stadium climb. Twenty nine years old. These would seem like three fairly disjointed statements were it not for me. I had decided that this was the morning for my first race.
As I left the house my wife presented me with a Green Hippo horn, “on the off chance you pass someone.” Thanks for the support. She was just pissed because an ankle injury was keeping her from running. So with that resounding vote of confidence, I loaded the trusty bike on to the Wagon and was gone. It took an hour to get to the race. More than enough time to convince oneself of ones own idiocy. I went over it a hundred times. I wasn’t a racer. That wasn’t why I rode. I didn’t need the competition. But I wanted to do this to experience all of the MTBiking world.
Two large Tim’s coffees and a Boston Creme later and I arrived. Young, fit bodies astride high-priced cool race rigs. Then there was me. Steel Breezer, rigid, with wool socks and my hippo horn. Race teams, clubs, families and friends. Then there was me, alone, but wait. My budy Stu showed for support. God love the man he tweaked my brakes and didn’t make one comment about the hippo.
Senior sport gets called to the line. Stu turns on my flashing commuter light, “so nobudy runs into you on the downhills.” It was like having my wife there. I couldn’t help but notice that some of the kids were looking at me and giggling. As were waiting for the start I remember thinking just finish. Go! That’s when it hit me that it had rained last night. The gorge was going to be slick. Stayed mid pack on the climb. Got held up in the singletrack, some of the kids had a hard time with the conditions. Made a huge mistake and went for the granny with a muddy drivetrain and chainsucked my way to a broken chain half way through the first lap. No problem, just pull out the Ritchey tool and fix it. Wrong that’s back on the step at home where you were fiddling with your peddals that morning. So I ran it out to the start/finnish and borrowed a chain tool. I got passed by nearly everyone. Lost about 15-20 minutes. But I kept going.
Reeled in some of the kids on the third lap. Overheard one say to another as I passed them on the grass climb, “that old fuck with the hippo and the light just got us.” Cool. Finnished 18 min out of first in my division. The course was outstanding. Moral: It’s OK to challenge yourself now and again, and never underestimate how much MTBiking can make you feel IT.
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