Seven Deadly Sins of the BC Bike Race

#1 - LUST ''an intense longing''    Us mountain bikers put a high priority on primo singletrack, often going to great lengths to find it, shred it, and then shred it again. So an event billed as the "Ultimate Singletrack Experience" must surely be just the ticket for a rider who lusts for nothing more in life than a brown ribbon of awesomeness snaking onward through the forest in front of them, right? That was my train of thought when I signed up for the 2012 BC Bike Race, an event that strives to keep riders on the curvy and narrow throughout its seven days of racing. But does one actually have to race for a week straight? Nah! Why would I do that when I could spend seven straight days getting sideways and meeting like minded people? I chatted with a few riders who had participated in the BC Bike Race and they all seemed to finish their sentences with words like "epic", "monumental", and "grueling" just as often as "fun" and "amazing", a sign I took that I should probably make an effort to sharpen my fitness from my annual eggnog-induced winter chubbiness to something a bit more in-tune with the 50km+ days that I would be facing. And while I knew full well it would in my best interest to do just that, I am also what is known as a professional procrastinator. That trait can work in my favour when I'm under the gun, but as you'd likely guess, not when I have three months to get my ass in gear. Grand plans were hatched that involved me arriving at the first day's starting line looking like a svelte and speedy cross-country crusader, ready to blow the socks off of my fellow riders. However, I knew that my love of Tim Hortons' fine cuisine, post-ride sushi gorging, and fizzy, sugar filled drinks, all things that are clearly in violation of rule number two on the list of the list of Seven Deadly Sins, would keep that from becoming a reality. I ended up not being any leaner, fitter, or faster by the time the race kicked off, but that turned out not to matter too much. You see, the very large majority of people toeing the start line were just like me: riders who crave singletrack and simply wanted to enjoy it, not race until they puke.




calories the next day, so you're much better off to over-eat than end up sitting on your ass on the side of the trail bonked and asking other riders if you could suck the last bits of gel from their already empty wrappers. Trust me on this one, that isn't a pleasant place to be and you'll only get strange and pitiful glances in return.


You'd do best to take the same approach when you come across a feed station during the day's stage: pretend it's a small village and you are an angry Viking who wants nothing more than to pillage it for all its valuables (food, obviously) before moving on to the next one. Just remember to pillage nicely, smile and say thanks to the volunteers who busted their asses getting all those bananas, Clif Bars, and other snacks out there so you don't end up looking like a starving animal on the side of the trail. I assure you that that Clif Bar will taste like a perfectly cooked steak after about 40km of chasing twig thin European racers who leave you for dead on the climbs but descend like a one eyed drunk with a flat front tire.



#3 - GREED ''an excessive desire for more of something than is needed''    What the hell do you bring with you for seven straight days of riding on technical B.C. singletrack? You could no doubt complete the BCBR on the roughest and most ill-prepared kind of mountain bike, but why would you want to? The race is very likely a once in a lifetime event for most riders, so I'd suggest being as materialistic as your bank account can bear and getting yourself some nice gear. It would be easy to compile a list of equipment and accessories so long as you didn't have to shoehorn it into the supplied red bag duffel bag, and the task only gets trickier when you consider that the race takes place in a coastal rain forest that sees some serious rainfall. When it comes down to it, you only bring with you what makes sense. And no, that doesn't include a folding lawn chair and beer cooler full of wobbly pops, although that would be nice. What does make sense, though, are simple things like a new pair of lycra shorts (preferably bib shorts because waistbands suck) for every single day, as well as every pair of gloves that you own and the five other pairs that you should buy before the race starts. I found it amazing to see riders washing their chamois post-stage and laying it out to dry for the next day... I may be lazy, but that is the last thing that I want to do after riding over 50km on singletrack. Call it a luxury, but I'd suggest that dropping some coin on a few extra pairs of shorts is a small layout compared to the race's entry fee, and it is a reasonable price to pay in order to avoid an infected saddle sore that requires being lanced by a stranger (that happened more then you might expect). Things like extra gloves and socks take up next to no room but are niceties that add a touch of comfort - call me a sissy but I changed out my gloves three times during one particularly wet stage. A few different pairs of knee warmers, glasses with interchangeable lenses, and one or two garbage bags to put all your used muddy gear in are all highly recommended as well. Just remember that that garbage bag is going to smell like it is stuffed with a dead and rotting animal by the time you return home.

Not only are you going to lose time on the downhills, there is also a very high chance that you are going to eat shit multiple times each day. Swallow your pride, XC bandits, and install a dropper post before heading over. In that same vein of thought, it will likely pay dividends to go up in tire size, not only for the extra traction fatter rubber can provide, but also for the increased reliability. A fast rolling option like the Kenda Small Bock Eight or Maxxis Larsen will certainly save some precious watts in dry conditions, no argument there, but the average racer will likely be better off with something a bit meatier, especially up front. Tubeless, of course.


Spare parts are also a must, with the usual bits being advised despite the ability to purchase goods and have them installed by professionals on-site. Tubes and a tire boot or two (even if you are going with a tubeless setup), a spare shift cable stuffed into your bag, and the obvious tools required to perform most any trail-side repair. I personally headed to the start line with a spare derailleur hanger for my bike tucked away in my bag, but I'm willing to bet that the majority of riders didn't bother with this particular item. Hell, I even carried a clever emergency universal hanger from Wheels Mfg. that can be fitted to nearly any bike - while not a permanent solution, it is one that will likely both get a rider out of the bush and earn me a six-pack of beer.


#4 - SLOTH ''a disinclination to action or labor''    There are times when it is simply a better game plan to slow up and think about the big picture rather than throwing it all away on one tricky section. This was especially true of the middle few days of the 2012 BC Bike Race. Amazing photo spreads and epic movie scenes featuring riders pinning it down singletrack splitting a glowing green forest have helped solidify B.C.'s status as one of the preeminent places to ride a mountain bike, but as anyone who has spent any time in B.C. between the months of September and June knows, that intense colour is the result of near non-stop precipitation that can quickly turn a fast trail into a slow slogfest. You think that it rains a lot where you live? Try waking up every morning for a month to a deluge of biblical proportions.... Every. Single. Day. That's a common occurrence in the winter, and must be why we cherish our summer riding season so much here in B.C., making the most of dry and dusty conditions that can be taken away from us for weeks on end by the fickle weather gods. Taking place in the depths of summer, one might expect (and hope) that the weeklong BCBR event would be blessed with sunny skies, warm temps, and fast running trails. Good thing us mountain bikers are hardy folk, as the middle two days, the stages that most riders would say were the longest and most challenging, saw rainfall and temperatures that even had some riders breaking out winter gear. Sections of trail, both climbs and descents, that would otherwise be easily cleanable turned into logjams of upside down riders, many of them still clipped in while on their backs. Despite the slow conditions, I can't recall a single hint of discontent from other riders, even as we all stood around in the rain post-race for our turn in the mobile shower-truck - just gritty smiles full of dirt.


The arduous conditions not only wrecked havoc on disc brake pads and drivetrains, but also made it clear who was comfortable with their bike getting a bit sideways compared to those who travelled to B.C. from a location nearer to the equator, and were therefore a bit more concerned about their well being. B.C. locals who reach for their rain jacket more often than not are familiar with the term "letting it roll", a technique involving laying off the brakes, staying light on the bike, and simply hoping for the best as their steed dances under them. On the opposite end of the scale is the approach employed by those unacquainted with a shiny, wet anaconda of a root splayed across the trail at a 30 degree angle. As you might guess, there was certainly some carnage to be seen, with many a rider laying it down in a storm of cursing and frustration as they tried to get a handle on conditions that they had never experienced before.To be fair, the wet conditions of stage two and three were a total anomaly for the BC Bike Race, with those being the the first time any sort of serious rain has hit the event in six years. That's a pretty good track record, and it would be a safe bet to assume that the upcoming event, set to kick off in just a few days time, will likely be blessed with sun front start to finish. Even if it isn't, I'd expect those same gritty smiles to show up.


supplied at the race, but many riders brought their own thicker mats, a highly recommended move ). It's amazing how much room seven pairs of bib shorts seem to take up when you have to push them into a small gap between your shoes and a garbage bag full of wet riding gear that smells of the aforementioned long-dead racoon.


Each morning involves packing up and delivering Big Red to the friendly race volunteers who are tasked with loading the crimson monster into the back of a moving truck to be delivered to the day's final destination. Fast forward three or seven hours (depending on how you fared...) and you roll over the finish line and begin the task of picking out your luggage from the pile of lookalikes. Somewhat conveniently, the longer you take to finish the stage, the less bags will be there when it comes time to find your own. I found this to be an excellent strategy that I employed throughout the week. While those fit suckers battling for bragging rights near the front of the group had to actually search for their bag, I was able to roll up, many hours later, and instantly spot mine in the small pile of four or five remaining bags.