Self Preservation

Stop number 3 on the North American Off Road Bicycle Association’s series.
Mount Snow, Vermont is truly a beautiful place, the combination of sunshine and temperature made it a perfect atmosphere to ride your bike or just be outside.

After another grueling 7-hour drive we found ourselves at the door of our new home for the next 4 days. Small rooms but good breakfast. In the morning we made tracks to register and take a look at the course. For those of you who are unaware of the Downhill course at Mt. Snow, let me fill you in. Over the past 4 years this mountain has been responsible for 119 hospitalized injuries thousands and thousands of dollars in broken bike parts and has single handedly demolished the pride of many of the world’s best bike handlers.

The course starts at the peak, approximately 1500 feet from the finish stretching a length of 1.5 miles and traversing almost all of the mountains open ski slopes. The speed of this course is enough to make you cringe. Speed traps setup on different sections of the course clocked us at between 45 and 55 mph. That is fast. The mountain is strewn with small-imbedded rocks on the course that would kick you about 8 or 9 inches in the air for about 30 to 40 feet. You must be comfortable at letting your bike slide at this speed. Your worst enemy on this course is the brake. At this speed the grip on the bars changes from one of riding and steering to holding on for dear life. Okay, I’m a little scared.

The first few practice runs are used to just get accustomed to going that fast on the bike. On the open slope you have no trees around to gauge your speed and you must be aware of upcoming danger. Three to four runs in and the hands are starting to fade, exhaustion sets in and we decide to call it quits for the day. The next two days of practice are getting faster and faster, as Saturday rolls around we are reaching our peak. The last practice run before the race and our good friend John and I set out with me leading. The run is going flawless, concentrating on our lines and hitting our marks, we are feeling good as we crest over the half waypoint. I turn it up a notch pulling away from John. The slope is blurring past and the banging of the wheels hitting the ground is getting louder, at approximately 50 mph it happens. I push through a huge rut and the mud is grabbing the tires. My body is now traveling faster than the bike. With my weight on the front of the bike I can feel the rear wheel lift off t ground and suddenly the banging stops. Quiet. I see the ground moving beneath me and I await the pain. I slam into the ground like a 175lb. bag of spuds. Tuck and roll! I come to a stop and as I lay on my back I take a deep breath and crack a smile. When I stand up and survey the carnage I am greeted by a course marshall who checks my status. Thumbs up. I have just been bucked off a bicycle at almost 50 mph and flew about 24 feet; my bicycle was another 30 feet past me. I will now take a rest until my race run.

As we wait at the top for our race run it begins to rain. Not exactly ideal weather conditions for a course such as this. My name is called and I get into the start gate. At the last beep I push off. The run goes well, not as fast as some of the practice runs but nobody wants a repeat offender, especially me. As I cross the line I feel good to be down and to have this race behind me. I pull a fourth place finish, which is not bad considering my hesitation. There is something to be said about self-preservation.