Road to the Western Open, P.3

The Family Man often faces many pressure in life; work, finances, family. Most of these pressures are daily occurrences, and are typically managed quite easily by the Family Man. But sometimes, the Family Man will find himself in extraordinary situations that bring additional pressure, pressure that can cause stress, anxiety, dry mouth, sweaty palms, male pattern baldness, excessive waistline spread, loss of humour, and generalized crankiness. Part three of our project chronicles one particular Family Man's struggle to cope with these additional pressures as he prepares to face his demons in the Western Open.

Part 3: Golden

The truth is, the Open is a bit of a demon for me, and this race is my one chance for exorcism. While I have ridden the trail numerous times over the past few years, I had never ridden it full speed, non-stop, top-to-bottom , prior to last year. So, when I raced it last year, in the rain and snow, I went with a survival strategy, holding back on the rock faces and nasty sections. While I knew this wasn't going to be competitive approach, I didn't realize just slow it would actually turn out to be. I logged an absolutely embarrassing time, just short of 8 minutes. To this day, I still don't think I was that slow, but, all that matters is what the timekeepers mark down.

So this year, I need to vindicate myself. I need to know that I am better than that. It's not even about winning or anything like that, because, realistically, I know that's not going to happen, especially at a race like this one. There is simply no way that I will ever be able to compete with people who get to ride on a regular basis. I could train in the gym, at home, on the road, until I'm ready to collapse, but it's not a substitute for actual riding. But, winning aside, I feel compelled to push myself to find my limits, and that's what this is about. To race against myself, pushing for progression.

We arrive in Golden on Friday. I go to the hill to register while my wife takes the kids to the skate park.



I F'ing LOVE BIKES!

After I return and we've all eaten dinner, I convince the kids that I've got something cool to show them, and, kicking in screaming, I drag them away from skate park to take them up Mount 7. In spite of their complaints about going to the skate park, and the bumpy ride up, they forgot all about it when we got there, as the views, and the para-gliders and hang-gliders were pretty cool.

Okay kids, NO RUNNING

Don't look down




I try to get some sleep that night, but sleeping becomes more difficult as the race approaches. Anxiety is creeping in.

I awake around midnight as my wife is jumping out of bed and throwing on clothes to run outside. A commotion outside has captured her attention. I drag myself out of bed in pursuit, to quickly discover that some silly teenage girl has got herself stuck on the cliff across the river from where we were camped. Trying not to be bitter about this foolish girl's disruption of my sleep, I grab a beer, and a floodlight to aid the rescue efforts, and wait for the rescue to be completed. Don't ask me how she got there. All I know is that it was 2:00 AM and 2 or 3 beers before I was back to bed.




Saturday. Jump in the truck. Blurry-eyed. Foggy-headed. Butterflies in my stomach. Driving up the hill is a chore. Coffee isn't going to cut it. Only the adrenaline from a nasty trail will clear this fog from my head. This just seems like too much work.

I leave my wife and kids in town today. We were going to go uphill together, so that the kids could race in the Tara Llanes kids race, but, I know that it would take wild horse to drag my kids away from the skate park. This is for the best. I don't need any distractions.

Gear up. Load into gondola. Pick my way down to the starting gate. Drop in. 3/4 speed down to the turn into the rock drop. Try to remember my line into the rock drop. Go for it. FAIL. OTB. Come down pretty hard. Bike comes down on me. Pick myself up. Not too hurt. Thank God for all my armour. Bike's in one piece. Shake it off. Pause to look back up at the drop. Crash happened too fast. Can't figure out what happened. Doesn't look like I'll be doing the drop come race time. I press on.

I get in another 3 laps today, but only 2 more on the course, which was closed for over an hour for a heli-vac. Seems a younger girl hurt herself on the course. Hope she's okay. I don't push for any more laps. I know that course as well as I'm going to. I just need to save myself for tomorrow.

I get back the campground, grab a bite to eat, and take the kids to the spray park, to give myself and the kids a chance to cool off, and to give my wife a break. After spending some time with my kids, I find myself wrenching on my bike into the twilight, racing against a sinking sun and fighting off the mosquitoes. Just before it gets too dark to work, I finish swapping out a slightly bent hanger, and with shifter now dialed in, i grab a beer and join my wife over at our camping neighbours for a little down time before bed.

Well, I thought it was going to be a 3 part blog, but this installment is running long now, so....

Coming up in Part 4 - Race Day:

- To practice or not to practice?
- Family time on the hill
- Cowbells for the kids from Brett Tippie: Free; Stickers from Kirt Vories for the kids: Free; Pictures of it all: PRICELESS
- Go Time