OK, now that I have caught everyone's attention, let's reveal the rather
boring subtitle,
2014 National Collegiate
Mountain Bike Championships, Beech Mountain, NC.
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| Start / Finish area for the XC and Short Track races |
After getting back from Guadeloupe last Tuesday afternoon and unpacking,
doing laundry, and repacking I left Lubbock with the 6:55 a.m. flight on
Thursday morning to eventually end up on the East Coast by mid-afternoon.
Lew Strader and Ugur Tosun, two fellow USAC
commissaires, had already arrived in Charlotte, and together we drove up to
Banner Elk and beyond, to Beech. Talk about a whirlwind of travel!
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| That's why they call them Blue Ridge Mountains |
This was my one-and-only USAC mountain bike assignment for 2014. How an
international-level commissaire (even though I decided to go the DCO route for
UCI assignments I am still an IC) is supposed to stay sharp with one assignment
a year is beyond me, but those decisions are being made by people who obviously
understand things much better than I. For a number of years I had served as
Chief Referee for the collegiate championships but had to excuse myself from my
assignment last year when I broke my leg. In my stead, Tod Manning from Seattle
had taken over nats in 2013, and he was back to again lead the crew in 2014. My
role was that of Starter, and I was really looking forward to working with him
as we have run into each other at road races here and there over the years but
have never been on the same crew.
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| The House of the Decaying Rodent |
Joining us were Judy Rhyne, who had worked with me when I chiefed Gravity
Nationals two years ago in the same locale, and young-and-upcoming Justin
Evans, a 22-year-old Appalachian State University student who is not only very
active on his school’s cycling team but also an eager lower-level USAC official
who had worked last year’s race and had impressed Tod, who asked that he be
again assigned to the crew.
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| The boys... |
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| ... and their bikes on the way to the top |
The six of us were given the keys to a vacation home just five minutes from
the venue, a nice place that had only one problem: You opened the door and were
greeted by the unmistakable smell of something dead. We never exactly found out
when or how that mouse or gerbil that was stinking up the ante-room had
expired, or where it had managed to hide its cadaver in one last heroic effort,
but the thing was with us whenever we entered or exited the house. Good thing
that we all had private rooms with doors, and in all fairness, the living room
and kitchen were OK, too.
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| A neon-gloved Brevard rider humping it through the feed zone |
For three full days we were on the mountain. Last year’s championship had
been marred by atrocious weather conditions (snow, cold, rain, the whole
gamut), but this year things were much, much better. Every morning, when we got to the venue
at 7:00 to 7:30 a.m., it was well below freezing, but once the sun made its appearance things
warmed up enough so that in sheltered areas one could take off one's jacket. Over
the course of the weekend I was several times up at the top of the mountain for the start of the downhill. At about 6,000 feet, the wind cut fairly hard and things weren’t all that
pleasant, and for Sunday’s dual slalom seedings and finals we had to contend
with 35 mph wind gusts that actually blew over some of the riders in the
starting gate. But overall, we lucked out in the ski resort that’s the marquee attraction (and probably also the
raison d'être)
of the highest incorporated village east of the Rockies.
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| Didn't I take a similar panoramic shot just a week ago in Guadeloupe? |
Our work days were long, but they were also satisfying. Under Tod’s leadership
we were able to get off all racers on time, the results were posted quickly and
accurately (thanks also to the work of my old friends Cath and John Jett from
CJ timing, who had come in from Telluride), and the number of injuries stayed
low. We all got a lot of sun and at the end of the day felt wind-burned, the
legs were tired from stomping around the hillside, and the back ached from
standing for hours at the start gates of the gravity events. But, as I said, it
was all very satisfying.
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| A "professional" photographer is responsible for this crew photo |
The fun started once we made it back to the house and got all cleaned up.
Tod had stocked the place with wine, beer, and two bottles of bourbon, and by
the time we left, not much of that stash remained. We’d talk about the day
during our “happy hour” before leaving for dinner in a different restaurant
every night. USAC treated us to a nice Mexican meal one night, together with
the Colorado Springs-based staffers who had traveled to Beech. Back at the
house, we’d start the off-slope mentoring of Justin (and Ugur as well).
Obviously, that included lots and lots of war stories from those of us who have
been in the sport for a while. And of course, there was a lot of
behind-the-scenes talk that will stay in the House of the Decaying Rodent (and
in our, ahem,
spirited minds).
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| Heading home through North Carolina's morning fog |
This morning (Monday) I drove Tod’s rental car back to the Charlotte airport
as he and Lew had to leave around 5:30 a.m. to make it to their respective
flights. With my departure not until 1:15 p.m., I was able to sleep a little
longer than during the past week and drive leisurely the 130 miles back to CLT.
It was a nice way to close out what seems to have been an almost continuous
series of transfers and flights for assignments over these past few months.
There won’t be much respite from the traveling, though: On Wednesday morning I
will board another 6:55 a.m. flight to DFW to continue via Philly on a personal
trip to Freising. But at least I have two nights at home, in what I hope is
still a rodent-free and non-smelly
casita.
Jürgen
