Racing the Kamikaze

By Paul Wilson

On September, 17-20, 2005 the United States Mountain Bike National Championships were held in Mammoth, California. I went to race the Kamikaze Downhill, a classic event that started downhill mountain bike racing. This course is basically an access road to the top of Mammoth, which stands at 11,053 feet. The run ends at 9,000 feet, and is five miles of non-technical, high-speed descent.

The key to going fast in this event is holding your momentum through the turns, because this course is too fast for your pedaling to make up speed if you lose too much in the corner. On Thursday, I only got in one practice run, but it was a start for familiarizing myself with the course. Right away, I noticed that, because more than just the downhill riders had been using the course, long sections of braking bumps had formed. (When a bike’s brakes are jammed on before a turn, the tires pull the dirt up into sections of washboard-like bumps.) In some places, they were 30 feet in advance of the corner and six inches deep.

(“Well, that will make things more fun. One mistake, and I’ll slow down far enough to lose several seconds trying to get back up to speed.”)

I didn’t know how right I was….

On Friday, I get in five practice runs, clocking a 5:52:60 on the next-to-last run of the day. Each of my runs has progressively gotten faster, so, I am pleased with my times. After I finish my two hours of practice runs, I go back up to the top of the mountain because I need to get back to the condo where we are staying, which is on the other side of the mountain. I start riding down a trail that ends up right above where the condo is. The trail is called Skid Marks. So, I am happily coming down Skid Marks, which I rode the day before after practice, but I am a little more tired today. A long straight section of trail comes up. I execute the last turn before the straight and barrel into it. The straight section goes through a bunch of basketball-size rocks, and there is a 24- inch- wide path that is lined with these rocks. Apparently, a rider before me lost it a little and knocked a couple of rocks into the trail. I go to avoid the rocks and hit a loose section of trail. (Mammoth is a volcanic mountain, and is very, very loose everywhere.) Suddenly, my front tire "washes out," (slides out of line with the back tire) and I tag one of the boulders with my back tire. The parabola described by my body (and bike) lands, alas, not so gracefully on quite a few of the basketball- sized rocks. I skip and bounce, and my bike goes thunk!!

I pick myself up, examine my hands, (“I tore my glove, man, those were new gloves, too!”), walk back to my bike, (“Cool, everything seems fine.”), and the pain hits. (“ Owwww, my left hand doesn't even want to close and my left shoulder isn't feeling so great either. Why does my chin hurt?”) I put my hand up to my face, feel my chin and take my glove away. (“Gross, my glove is covered in blood. I wonder what I did?”) I look down at the ground and realize I have left my signature…blood is dripping onto the rocks. Thankfully it isn't dripping very fast. (“Man, that was a good crash....Alright, me, okay condition, bike.......Oh. Hm, this will make things interesting.”) I have bent the derailleur hanger, which holds the derailleur, which keeps the chain on the gear I have selected. Bending the hanger potentially could make shifting and pedaling, and thus moving, impossible. (“Okay, good, at least the chain stays on in the higher gears. Just makes pedaling a little harder. Speaking of pedaling, my right knee hurts.”) I pull down my knee guard, and see a bruise forming. (“Must have hit it on a rock.”) I go to pedal down the trail, and realize my hand still doesn't want to close, which makes holding onto the handlebars a little hard. I pull off my glove. (“Yep, a bruise there too.”) I stretch and work my hand, and it starts to feel a little better. More importantly, I can curl it around the handlebars.

I start off down the trail. After I reach the condo, I pull off all my gear, and check out what happened to me. First, on my knee, a pretty good bruise and scrape. Then I check my hand. It's a little bloody, so I go to the sink to wash it, look in the mirror. (“My chin's covered in blood, I forgot about that.”) I look like I got in a sword fight. I have a diagonal gash about a quarter-inch deep in my chin. (“Well, at least it's at an angle, so I can just pull the flap of skin over it with a band-aid, pack it with anti-bacterial ointment, and it should be fine.”) I do so, then I pull my shirt off to check my shoulder. (“ I scratched up my whole left side. No wonder my shoulder hurts, it’s another big bruise.”) I patch myself up, put ice and heat on my hand and a few hours later, I'm feeling way better.

On race day, my hand, shoulder, side and knee all feel good enough to ride, but I still ice my hand once more before heading up to the gondolas to race. I suit up with all my gear at the car, check my bike. I had replaced the bent derailleur hanger with a spare I had. (“Good, everything looks fine”). I’m good to go, so I pedal over to the gondolas, get in line to load up and, finally, I’m on my way. I’m in a gondola with a cool guy from Boston, and we talk about downhilling, bikes, and how the pros always make it look easy, even on the hardest trail. We reach the top way ahead of our start times, so we stay inside because it’s 20 degrees outside, and the wind is picking up. It was around 10 or 15 mph this morning, but now at 10:15 it’s about 30 mph.

At my start time I check the weather conditions board, and it says the wind is 40 mph. (“That could definitely have an effect on my run time.”) I get on the starting box, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, BEEEEEP, and I’m off. Pedaling to get my speed up, I come down the first part of the trail. Rounding the second corner, the wind really hits me, and I know I’m going way slower then I would like. The wind is pushing me around on the trail, and I can’t hold momentum as easily as the day before. All the way down the trail, I can feel the wind fighting me. I try to give with the gusts, figuring that resisting too much will slow me down even more. On one corner, I am headed right into the wind, and it feels like I slow down almost all the way. (“Not good, I need that momentum!”) I pedal, but I know this run is going to be slower than I would like. After I cross the finish line, and I’m watching other racers come down behind me, I can see they aren’t too happy with the way their runs felt either. When the results come up, I got SIXTH!!! I’m pretty happy with that, seeing as how my run time is 6:23:80. (“Cool, sixth isn’t too bad, but my practice runs were way faster. Well, maybe next year it won’t be so windy.”) I congratulate the winner of my class, and after play- riding on some wooden structures next to the race course, my family and I leave to get lunch. I was pretty happy with my placing, with the factor of the wind, but next year……….Watch out!! I want first!