Don't Be Late for Your Downhill...

This is my first blog entry. So by way of introduction I thought I'd keep it simple.

As a pro downhiller for more than ten years (downhillers have no more fingers to count any higher), one of the most primary lessons to learn is to be on time for the start.

Don’t worry about messing with chain slap or ghost shifting. Skip breakfast if you have to. If you are afraid that both of your alarm clocks won’t go off, then lie in bed awake all night if you must. Just don’t be late.

Downhillers are assigned specific start times. It might be 9:17 am or 1:37 pm. If you miss that starting time second-long window, you’ll have a lot of explaining to do. Some serious face time with your team manager. The owners. Major and minor sponsors. You’ll have to come up with an explanation for the journalists that doesn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

The day before my race I sometimes write my starting time on the back of my hand with a thick black sharpie. Sometimes I have my cell phone call me for a reminder.

Proudly I boast that I have never missed a DH start. Not one.

But, I am chagrined to admit that this past weekend, my first Century Road Ride of the season, I missed the start. I was late for the Solvang Century start.

I hope this doesn’t mean that my career transition from downhiller to endurance rider will be a rocky one. The short list of reasons for my tardiness was sleeping with my wrist watch buried beneath a mound of pillows, ear plugs, an easy to reach snooze alarm, a fuse situation in my VW bus, a surge in Saturday morning traffic in in the region because of the popularity of the movie Sideways...

I registered in a blur, slapped on my number plate, and motored off. The first 15 minutes was spent passing a steady stream of riders, in the ultimate search for a fellow misplaced mountain bike racer or at least a familiar butt. Most people would quickly swerve to the right when I approached... off the back the majority of them wore a mirror on the side of their glasses. I finally found a couple of gamers, and we pace-lined at a quick tempo for the next hour, not speaking a word. One of them finally cracked, and introduced himself after I passed their unwritten initiation. We all made friends, and it was then okay to slow down so we could actually form complete sentences.

Another hour went by uneventfully except my water bottle cage broke off, helicoptering behind me full bottle streaming raspberry liquid, and almost took out a tandem carrying two late-term pregnant women. They dodged it skillfully without missing a beat.

The only major climb of the day was under 500 feet, but it still had people off their bikes and pushing. When a ClifBar was offered, most would gleefully grab one and take a seat right there on the shoulder to enjoy it.

Thankfully Centuries really aren’t like pro races. This season I’ll ride a lot of them to prepare for endurance racing like 24 Hours of Moab, NORBA Marathons, and extreme events like the La Ruta or the Trans Rockies. They are more like semi official training rides for some, fun rides for others, and a lost bet for a few more. Being late for a Century Ride really doesn’t DQ you. I was doing this one on my own, so there wasn’t any grief from my Luna team’s manager. No scorn from my teammates.

But I was late for the start of this Century by two hours. Not two minutes. Two hours. And for being that late there was a penalty. By the time I finished all the free beer was gone, and I was forced to scrap with the seagulls for the few remaining pieces of BBQ chicken.

This coming weekend I’m racing a Marathon at the NOVA NORBA NATIONAL!

I’ll be on time for my start.