Some Courage to Find My Weakness - CB Classic: Part One

“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.