“I can’t Throw it all away- I need some courage to find my
weakness”- The Ramones
The Crested Butte Classic transcends definition… Is it a
group ride? Is it a race? Is it something more? Frankly, I don’t give a damn
what is “is”. For me, the Crested Butte Classic is all of the above and more.
There is never a shortage of talent to be found at the Classic and for that reason
it is a good place to test myself against the super talented and unabashedly
humble athletes from Crested Butte and the Gunnison Valley. More importantly, the trails and the folks that
make up the Classic are some of the finest anywhere!
The Classic is the brain-child of the uber-friendly and down
to earth Dave Ochs. Anyone who toes the line at the Classic is instantly
indebted to this “man of the sweet, sweet, single-track.” This year Dave’s
birthday coincided with the Classic as well as the first day of fall. He celebrated
in style by slaying all three laps of The Classic… In spite of a broken radius
bone, he managed to be the fourth man to reach the post office parking lot
finish line in this year’s edition. That wallet in Pulp Fiction, the one that
Samuel L. Jackson’s character carries, with Bad
Motherfucker on it… Dave needs one of those for putting the Classic on for
9 years running as well as for finishing strong, broken bone and all. If you
are reading this Dave, I can’t say it enough, the mountain biking community is
forever indebted to you and your passion for putting on the Classic and caring
for the trails around Crested Butte!
The Classic tests everyone, it throws things in your way
that either inspire you to push on in spite of their prescience or… you call it
a day and wait for the finish-line keg to be tapped and the pain to flow out as
the frosty elixir numbs you…
We rolled out of Crested Butte headed south toward Brush
Creek Road, the sun glowing just below the horizon and the aspens on the
hillsides flashing like embers. Due to a combination of ignorance,
stubbornness, and lack of strong coffee coursing through my veins I rode at the
front of the neutral start as we made our way to the end of the pavement with
nothing in front of me but the icy autumn air. On either side of me were
single-speed racers Jeff “El Freako” Hemperley and Shaun Gregory. Shaun would
go on to be the first single speeder to cross the finish line. Also near the
front was Troy Hiatt, a super fast, super nice guy I had battled in a few races
this season. Evan Ross, who finished just ahead of me in the Gunnison Growler
was there as well. Of course, Brian Smith was up there too; fast is an
understatement as this man was coming off of a great showing at the Alpine
Odyssey where he finished ahead of Lance Armstrong. In addition to Dave Ochs there was Kelly
Magelky, who has won this event in the past.
The pavement gave way to dirt and the folks who wanted to do
all three laps of the Classic in as little time as possible were surging ahead.
I was thinking about how best to pace myself as we rolled away from town and I
decided that I would do something that my body was sure to hate. I decided that
on this day, here at the CB Classic, I was going to go “all in” and push a pace
that was faster than my mind would agree was reasonable. I wanted to leave
everything out on the single-track and race like a man who had nothing to lose.
One might think that is what racing is all about- and there is some truth in
that… However, we all have a pace we are comfortable with going for fifty,
seventy five or one hundred miles. As
endurance athletes we sometimes do ourselves a disservice by thinking this way,
setting limits on our pacing. Today, I was the guy who goes up to the biggest
bastard in the bar and punches him right in the jaw… Today I was exploiting my
own weakness, refuting the physical limits I had spent all season setting for
myself. As Brian Smith, a.k.a: “Smithy”
pulled away, I followed as best as I could, chasing harder than I ever have at
the start of such a long, difficult day. The cold air made my legs feel as if
they were carved out of wood and my hands were stone. In a surreal moment,
given the pace of things, Kelly Magelky rolled up on a steep pitch of jeep road
as we headed toward the Strand trail. We exchanged pleasantries and I introduced
myself, a bit star struck as Kelly is the real deal (24 Hour National Champion
among other achievements).
The course narrowed as we reached the Strand single-track,
resplendently carpeted in gold. Smith, Magelky and another rider entered the
track just ahead of me. Strand is where last year’s Classic went south on me as
I took a wrong turn and went from having third place in the bag to finishing
sixth. I had memorized every turn and knew exactly where I was going this year.
All of us in this little group knew that Smith was ahead and he was slowly
pulling away. We all knew that the Strand trail gives way to the Canal trail
which eventually spits us back out onto Brush Creek Road where we would climb
heavenward to the top of Deer Creek trail.
Thanks for a fun, well-written account, John. I was thinking of you guys often as I rode over Kebler and into CB. In think the golden line in this post is, " Today, I was the guy who goes up to the biggest bastard in the bar and punches him right in the jaw…" Just a fabulous capture of motion and mental toughness. I look forward to you next post, and congrats on your KOMs! Best, D-Mason
ReplyDeletecool write up! fun race/group ride!
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