2021 Mercedes-Benz UCI Mountain Bike World Cup Finals in Snowshoe, WV

One of more than half a dozen current UCI World Champions
in the DHI, XCO, and XCC present

For the past three nights, my brain has been dumping amazing amounts of data files that I accumulated over the past 10 days, which I mostly spent in Snowshoe, WV. My theory is that after a time of "stress" (good or bad) the brain tries to process all of the input and has to get rid of anything that is going to clutter the little grey cells. Think of a defrag of the hard drive. I'm finally getting to the point where my brain seems to work in the green realm—no more yellow and red sectors.

Morning view in Snowshoe, above the fog in the valleys below

Don't get me wrong: I love the challenge that a race presents, even if it is not just "a" race but the final round of the 2021 Mercedes-Benz UCI Mountain Bike World Cup. This challenge is the reason why I love what I do for USA Cycling when I go to National Championships and for the ITA to help keep cycling clean. When I was still an active commissaire for the UCI before the big juncture close to a decade ago, it was the same thing: A day, a week, ten days, or even almost a month (at the Rio Olympics) of constant high-pressure, under-the-Klieg-lights, non-stop decision making and the fear to fuck up. What I am doing on both fronts (officiating and doping control) can destroy careers, and so there is this weight on me while I am at a venue. Obviously I seek this out. I choose to do this (almost) volunteer job that commissaires and IDCOs do. And I can't even tell my closest friends much about the inner workings of my tasks and experiences.

Two of my very favorite International Commissaires,
Nathalie and Michael from Canada

But I think that after this most recent race I'm again back to normal, at a point where some of these challenges are receding into the background and the colorful, super-positive memories are going to push aside daily worries and fears of making a bad decision. I have to tell you, going back out to Snowshoe after 2017 and 2019 (as Chief Referee for our Collegiate National Championships first and then at the helm of Elite Nats) was a deeply satisfying experience.

At the start of the Downhill (DHI)

The original plan had been to work the three-day CDM (French for Coupe Du Monde, or World Cup) on September 17 to 19. But things sometimes change: The Downhill CDM in Ft. William, Scotland, in late May had been cancelled (or maybe the better word is postponed) because of COVID, and at the last minute the UCI decided to tack the event on to the race in Snowshoe. (The original Snowshoe event had included three disciplines, the DHI, or Downhill, the XCC, or Short Track, and the XCO, the Olympic Cross-Country). I know, it's all a bit confusing.

Images from the DHI. The center photo catches a racer in mid-air.

What I was not confused about was the time when I had to arrive in West Virginia, which was Monday of last week. After a three-flight, all-day trip (thankfully all upgraded) I arrived in late afternoon in Charleston, WV. I was met by Clay, a young employee of the Snowshoe resort who had been assigned to my team and who proved invaluable in the week ahead. Cool kid! He drove me to Snowshoe, a trip of almost three hours through the backwaters of West Virginia where settlements are few, deer are numerous, and the roads never flat or straight. At least we weren't accosted by any FLKs or their gun-toting parents.

Clay (left) helped me herd the cats, aka chaperones

If you read any of my Snowshoe-related posts from 2017/19, you may remember that this outpost is an upside-down ski resort. What that means is this: Instead of having a town at the bottom of the mountain (they call 4,848 feet a mountain here; Lubbock is at 3,000 feet, for reference), the resort is built at the top. Skiers ski down first thing in the morning and have to take a lift to get back up. Cyclists do the same, especially the downhillers. It's not really a unique setup as a quick Google search will yield various "inverted" resorts, but it is far from common. The set-up brings with it certain challenges, but it's also pretty cool: For one thing, you get to see amazing skies at sunrise and sunset. For another, there's no place to run off to in the evenings if you crave more bars or restaurants. You're stuck on the hill and won't get lost!

As I said, plans sometimes change. I was to be joined by my colleague and friend Linda from Oregon, who had been assigned as the leader of our two-person team but who for job-related reasons had not been able to work the Ft. William replacement World Cup on Wednesday. She was supposed to arrive in time to for Friday's races, but as it turned out she didn't get to the mountain until that night because of a medical emergency, so I once again was on my own. Once in a while we have to be pretty flexible in this métier. She arrived in time for us to cover together the DHI on Saturday and the XCO on Sunday.

As you know, I can't talk about my work, which is mostly done inside of a building. But I still get a chance to occasionally come out and see a little bit of the race action, and I tell you, it was exciting racing! Word was that approximately 12,000 people had paid an entry fee of up to $85 (for the entire race week) to watch and cheer. There were the vuvuzelas and chainsaws, and fans were dressed up in all kinds of weird and outrageous costumes. American flags of course dominated, but it was not as if there weren't lots of foreign fans as well. How they came into the US with the current COVID restrictions for most European countries still in effect, I do not know. But they were noticeably present!

There's something extremely uplifting seeing all those athletes in their colorful kits, and spotting the rainbow stripes of a current World Champion is even more so. Since we had three different disciplines (DHI, XCC, and XCO) and three age categories (Elite, U-23, and Juniors) times two genders the potential of 18 World Champion jerseys existed. Add to that all the various National and Continental champions, and you can imagine how exiting such an event is. No, I longer get star-struck, but I full-heartedly embrace this display of youth, talent, and professionalism.

The lure of the Pot of Gold at the end of the rainbow...

One of the week's most moving moments must have been the totally unexpected XCO win by US rider Christopher Blevins. The last time a US male had won a cross-country World Cup race was back in 1994, when Tinker Juarez took a win. Blevins hadn't even been born yet! Man, you should have heard and seen the crowds erupt when Blevins came out of the single track by himself, with enough of a lead that he could start celebrating by high-fiving the spectators with 300 meters to go. It gave me goosebumps.

Christopher Blevins less than 300 meters before his historic XCO World Cup win

Going to a World Cup (especially in a discipline that I worked as a commissaire at this very level) also means that one runs into a whole bunch of old friends and acquaintances. UCI commissaires Michael and Nathalie from Canada were there, as well as Justin, Pamala, Judy, Gal, and Amy from USAC. I knew numerous of the UCI technical personnel, and of course there was enough socializing to make new friends. (Hey Spook, I really meant it when I said I'll show up at your door in South Africa!) Seeing my old friend Andy from Snowshoe and catching up with his life story was another highlight, as were racer encounters (I was so proud to see Alexis having graduated from NICA all the way to the U-23 women at a World Cup). Communal breakfasts and dinners as well as time spent in the pub, at our condo's firepit, and of course at the rambunctious post-event party helped consolidate old and new relationships.

Gal, Justin, and Nathalie at the 80% line

Spook from South Africa wondering whether he should have any more moonshine

Mikey, local moonshine liaison and so much more, after
the first jar is almost empty

Michael and I at the big party Sunday night

Caroline, at the center of the organizing committee, kept her cool the entire time

My old friend Andy now works for Old Spruce Brewery instead of the resort

At the end of the day, Gal and even Justin can smile

Max (center) and Brad (right) provide some of the
best voices (and commentary) in the business

Quiet time around the firepit 

With lovely servers like Alec it's impossible to turn down yet another beverage....

Just as at almost every race I go to, I did have some time to enjoy the beautiful setting that Snowshoe enjoys. Of course, as usual I got to ride the ski lifts multiple times (well, at least once a day), but I also went for a beautiful hike around Shaver Lake on Thursday, a non-competition day. On this easy two-mile hike I felt the oncoming autumn for the first time: a hint of color change in the forest canopy, visible from the lift, a few yellow and red leaves floating in the crystal clear waters of a tiny brook, the last berries on the brambles. Give Snowshoe another two weeks and the place will be painted in the exuberant reds and yellows of fall. As I wrote on Facebook: Really, they pay me for this?

The lift ride down to Shaver Lake

The probably most lasting memory for me of this trip, however, will quite likely be the beautiful sunrises and sunsets, with ever-changing vistas of mountains and clouds and colors that seemed fake. Even if buildings and street lights usually got a bit in the way, the views were spectacular. Snowshoe is going to host another round of the UCI World Cup next year in late July, and if you've never been to such an event, this will be your best chance to witness the grand show firsthand. It's not easy to get to Snowshoe, but it sure is worth it. I'm so glad that I was assigned!

My next trip is a few weeks away, and it will be cycling related. By then fall will be upon us in full force and I'm already wondering what interesting times may await me. Stay tuned!

Jürgen