I had heard many things about Angel Fire since its inception as a local venue, mainly that the place kicked all kinds of ass. Well, “they” were right. It does kick ass in all aspects of the term. (my rear has never been so black and blue)
Considering the potential “kick-assedness” of the venue and the fact that this was a UCI points race, my goal was to go and at least place top ten in order to accumulate a modest amount of points. Would it happen? My practice runs suggested that I just might.
Tuesday night I packed up my things and closed the door to our Novato apartment for the very last time. I was the last piece of the puzzle to move to NY, and I was doing so via this race in New Mexico.
Wednesday morning Jackie (Giant, WTB, Freeride Foundation) and I set out our eighteen-hour drive through the southwestern desert. We drove past Flagstaff; saw all kinds of “Route 66” stuff, even a petrified piece of wood or two along the freeway. Exciting stuff. As the drive wore on, we grew closer and closer until finally we reached Angel Fire and exploded out of the car. I took off to walk and map the course while she built her bikes and headed out for mountain cross practice.
Kimber, Connie and Addie (Go Ride) arrived that night and all of us, travel weary claimed bunks and headed in for an early night.
Friday, the temperature dropped steadily and the course became inexplicably slimy on top where the high-speed fire road sections became hard to hold on over the tall water bars. All of us except for poor Jackie escaped to the warmth of the condo before the blizzard hit. When she came in looking fairly traumatized from her “adventure down the course” the rest of us were already snuggled into the living room with the heater cranked on high. Throughout the evening we watched the snow go from flurry to blizzard and back, each of us dreading what this meant for our 8am practice on Saturday.
Saturday – AM practice: Connie, Kimber, Addie and I trekked out (stupidly) into the 32-degree morning. The clouds looked like they were lifting a bit as we boarded the lift, but as we ascended the “high clouds” turned into a full-blown blizzard. Frostbite was an issue at this point. Everything was frozen. Everything! I nearly at it on the road descent from the lift to the start gate! We entered the course through three inches of snow then slid and cart wheeled down the frozen top rock section. It was pure insanity, however at this point, any improvement in the course would make it straight delightful compared to this.
PM practice was open to all – I had forgotten how scary it is to be on the course and ride with the expert men. There are unspoken rules of etiquette in the pro field, namely, if you stop on the course, you get the hell out of the way el pronto lest it be “death by (insert pro dude’s name here)”. Not so. Bouncing down the rocks, behind these guys you had to be careful and give them lots of room. IF some of them cleared a section, chances are they’d park it somewhere in the middle and have a look-see. Instead of seeing a clear path of what they had just come down, they got an eyeful of furrowed plucked eyebrows and wide mascara’d lashes behind clear goggles screaming “rider!”. It was like they were surprised to see anyone else was even on the course with them, much less the very real possibility that they were just about to be leveled by a chick.
Thankfully the course had dried out. The top was still pretty slimy, but the bottom was pure tacky bliss! Speed held in corners and arm pump was a huge concern. As we progressed down the course, the feature loomed. That’s right, Kimber’s nemesis. “El Stepo-downo Roadogappia” (Anyone who has seen “Stars and Bars” will remember her debut.) When I walked the course and saw it, it scared the hell out of me just looking at it. I couldn’t imagine what Kimber had to do to overcome this thing.
Thankfully, there was time to work on it. I watched Addie hit it, then approached it a few times with Kimber coaching. Finally I hit it. Pure butter. Cake. This was to be my race line and really the only place on the course to recover.
I stopped and waited for Kimber. She backed up, took a go at it and sailed over expertly. This year she will be on film for tearing this road gap apart, not vice versa.
Sunday is where the trouble began. The course was drying out to near perfect conditions and I was to the point where I was holding speed through the rock gardens, including the flat baby-head sections. I was feeling good (although insanely fatigued) on the course and confident for a good qualifying run.
On the start block I got a good start, pedaled down the first sweeping turn, entered the second too fast, braked and lost speed. Not a huge deal, just something to work on for the race Monday. Entering the first rock garden I hit every target line and cleaned it perfectly, although not as fast as I knew I could go. Again, no problem. As I progressed down the course and through the chunder of a right-hander and went to pedal out of it, the sickening feeling of an unburdened crank and the sound of a chain spinning freely hit me. Damn! Damn damn damn! I somehow knew my chain was going to be an issue. I knew the space between the roller, chain and bash guard was too great. Well, I got to work on holding speed, although at one point I dragged the brakes while trying to re-rail my chain with my foot without getting my right tootsie caught in the spokes. Alas, it wasn’t to be. Forced to coast to the step-up, take the step-down go-around and pump maniacally through turns precious time was lost. Again, damn damn damn!
Wasting no time I headed for the bike shop to buy replacement handlebars due to some nasty gouges in my current carbon set and beg a Dremmel. Surprisingly, one of the employees seemed almost giddy when he presented the nearly new Dremmel kit and watched as I took it into my grimy little paws and went to town on that roller in order to patch up that space that allowed the chain to jump.
A quick digression: Picture, if you will, Dremmel bits. They’re small in size and many in variety. A complete Dremmel kit will contain many many tiny pieces in little snappy compartments above the main toolbox. Compartments that open…sometimes on their own. Picture now, a 4” raised wooden deck with ½” gaps in between the boards. Of course, this is where my work stand was set up.
Let me draw part of the picture:
Constants: Dremmel main compartment that opens, Dremmel bits compartment that also open but open upside down when main Dremmel compartment lid is in the open position.
Variables: Security of Dremmel bits compartment lid, My luck.
I fix my chain guide, wind up the cord, and open the lid to tuck the dremmel tool away while simultaneously the bits compartment lid opens and many of the bits drop right between the ½” slits in the deck never to be seen again. One more check written out by the Karma Payment Plan.
Monday we practiced again in the morning while the other downhill categories raced. Since the pros didn’t go off until 2:30, there was plenty of time to test equipment and iron out any kinks.
At two-thirty on the nose we were lined up to race. Amazing time management by the UCI official and the MSC guys! I watched as Connie, Jackie and Kimber left the starting block, then it was my turn.
My start was great. The first two turns were great, then 200 yards from the start, at the rocky chundry left-hand sweeper into the first rock garden, there it was again. A free spinning crank set. My chain had fallen off yet again. Oh, the expletives that went through my mind. I had two choices, either keep as much speed as possible through the flats (which wouldn’t be enough to get through them) or pull off and fix the SOB.
I pulled off course and tried to fix the chain as quickly as I could. Since we ran in one-minute intervals, I kept counting and got to about eighteen before I was off again. Thankfully I never got caught. Pedaling through the rocks, I went up and over the bridge and once descended into the last rock garden, the chaining had bucked the chain for the last time. There was no more time to fix it, I just had to hold and gain as much speed as I could which meant hauling much more ass than I’m comfortable with on the fire roads.
Thankfully I was able to pull it off while keeping speed and hitting the road gap. I pumped like crazy through the berms and anywhere I could along the last part of the course, but sadly it wasn’t enough. This just wasn’t my race.
Although the results are a bummer, I really feel that my riding ability has been elevated. I learned a lot on that course and was able to put into practice what my coach had tried to teach me. (yeah, I hired a coach this year – totally worth it!)
I’ll be back next year, though with a working chain and a hunger to throw more spice in Angel Fire’s Chili Challenge!
Thanks to the Velo Bella team for the ultimate in team members and support, Fox Racing who kept me warm, dry and protected during the icy rock runs, Zeal Optics for the excellent goggles, Patagonia for the apres bike “My rear is too bruised to put on anything other than stretchy-pants” clothing, Stan’s Tubeless Wheels for the lightest and strongest wheelset I’ve ever run, Sram for keeping the shifting under control and Giro for protecting my peanut-sized noggin. There might not be much in there, but damn it’s good to have it all safe in a cool, comfy Remedy helmet.
