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So there I was at the finish line of the Bear Mountain Challenge. It had been raining over the last two days, riders of all ages were covered in mud and trail conditions described as "soupy" and "slick." Being six months pregnant I had decided to wait for my husband at the finish line instead of trekking up the course. Not that I minded - last year we had watched the race from the rock drop (aka Carnage Corner), where I witnessed wipe outs and one racer who was carried out by stretcher.
It was 12:30 pm - the masters division was to start at 12:45 pm. The younger males (about 13 to 18 yrs) were just completing their race. Anxious parents and supporters were waiting and as riders finished you could hear "congratulations", "good time" and "you gave it your best". The riders had smiles and energy and would often say "Next year I'll be faster".
A woman who finished earlier described her ride to a supporter - " I came third." "That's great!" "... Out of four." "OH."
| As this group left the area, the masters division would soon start to arrive. Out of nowhere I saw the first of the masters racers coming towards the finish line. He came down the hill, around the corner and over the finish line.... then dropped his bike and crawled a short way up the hill where he collapsed in utter exhaustion. "FUCK" was all he said. Over the next few minutes several more riders would come down - some swerving out of control, some wiping out just prior to the finish line, and others barely making it over the line to collapse in a pile. Their faces showed the exhaustion of giving it their all and being charged on adrenaline. Frequently we heard " Fuck...", "That couldn't be my time..." or "I wiped out..." There were murmurs of coming back next year as well as mention of possible retirement. One guy was overheard exclaiming how he had "bagged" himself SO HARD on the course and needed to air himself so "they can drop down again"! |
 The numbers don't lie. Rider Dean Wilkes |
As more riders finished we heard more stories of survival - the riders vs.
Bear Mountain - and how they had outwitted, outlasted and outplayed the course.
It was funny to compare the stories of the boys and the men! As I waited anxiously
for my husband, the stories continued, now sounding more like epics than a
downhill ride lasting between 4:30 to 6 minutes. Then over the radio we heard
"rider down, possible femur fracture - course closed - hold
riders."
Now all that was heard was the rain, heavy breathing of the athletes and the conversation of the marshals on the radio. I was concerned because my husband and his friend where somewhere up there. Would I be spending the night at the hospital? A short time later the course was re opened and the riders began arriving. Exhaustion, pain and a sense of accomplishment could be seen on their muddy faces. Of course wipeouts, collapsing over the finish line and "FUCK" continued. One rider crawled into a bush area - requesting his female companion not come near him, as he was okay but "needs some time".
If you don't think a downhill race is hard work you have never raced one. Dean Wilkes catching his breath.
At last I saw my husband coming towards the finish line. He was in one piece
and his time was not bad for his first race. He too staggered up the hill,
dropped his bike and collapsed. I could tell he was pleased with his performance.As
the race progressed, the stories continued - even my husband was describing
how his quick thinking and manoeuvring helped him over the gap and the rock
drop and how the spectators applauded his efforts. We became concerned as
his friend had not completed his race and the next division of riders had
started to arrive. The masters' stories were growing and tales from the new
group were under development.
After returning to the parking area, my husband found his friend who DNF due
to a wipe out in which he hit his head and decided to call it a day. Exhaustion
and disappointment could be seen on his face, and consoles from other rides
were heard. Thankfully he was in one piece and there would be next year. Oh
yes, I knew at that point I would be back in a year and for years to come.
My husband being an avid downhiller has caught the racing bug. To tell you
the truth, downhill mountain biking is actually not so bad. Yes this is coming
from a wife in her early thirties! It is exciting to watch and it is easy
to be engulfed in the emotion and culture of this sport. For a brief moment
I even contemplated going to the Woodlot with my husband in the future - however
I then quickly recalled the one and only ride I have taken with him (in the
early 1990's), but that's another story. There is a certain pride in my voice
as I tell epic tales about my husband's antics, injuries and adventures in
mountain biking. I am definitely a mountain bike mom in training. And at least
it is
not baseball, golf, fishing.........
See you at the finish line next year.
