Yeah Cliche, I know. “Yeah Bra, the feel of steel is so real.” While my teammates are raging their new carbon superflys the Darkness and I were busy sweeping the first two podium spots in the elite “do the rock” xc race on our brand new OX platinum ferrous 29s. Yeah, Sea otter or the world cup opener sound appealing but we felt right at home slicing the midwest mud. The start line showed some promising competition as the hibernated legs of many were let loose by the race official. The fast pavement roll out release a fiery of two wheeled demons who quickly jostled for position before pinning a singular route onto dirt and out of sight. BANG! The lead rider came in hot and blew his tyre off the rim. Stans plastering nearby racers as the wounded scurried out of the line of fire. I drilled the first rise before diving into a stretch of bog that left my mind in limbo. It was apparent that we were over-geared . 36:16 which happened to be the same gear I rolled at Chequamegon adorned my freshly painted ferrous along with fresh bits from the fine folks who support my habit. The groups formed, stretched, settled. The Darkness and I appeared to be riding above the rest despite our absence of proper gearing. It’s such a fine line. Gearing. If I’m over I’ll explode but this year I’m stronger. Not stronger in the sense that I can push bigger inches but I’ve acquired a poker face. I hid every ounce of pain… or at least that’s what I thought. I pulled us through the first 12 mile lap of 3 and then some. We started to converse on gaps, condition, gearing when I bobbled in a muddy section and Marko scooted by. Thank god, I was toast and needed a break. The pace was steady as I regained mental consciousness. A spectator yelled 7 minutes until third! Nice, cruise control… not. The gap demons took over as I inadvertently took over pace just before our third. The numbness of pushing the inches faded and I was on a mission, a mission to drop Marko or put more time into third. I resorted to the latter or should I say I didn’t have a choice. Surges flew but I could hear the leaves crunching behind me. The leech lives! We were riding better on our last lap then the first and the best was yet to come. I started to envision the finish in my head. I can’t. I never could. The cave gets in the way. My vision was getting blurry as the water ran dry and the temps rose. Diving into the last valley before our 1/4 mile climb to the finish I was feeling good, a second wind if you will. I pinned it as the lapped traffic grew heavy. I crested the hill alone with Marko a close 5 seconds back as we rolled in to the finish under the same gap. It’s getting tough out there and we’re only two races into a 20 race season. Beating each other up on the mtb’s is good ol fashion brotherly love at its finest. Let the big wheels roll!
