It may sound a little bit like a cliché, but I often have to pause to sort out what day it is—not only the date, but also the day of the week. When it comes to bike racing (indeed, most sports endeavors) we think of weekend activities. But on occasion I am dispatched to an event that spans half a week, or more, and after a day or two
time takes on a different nature. I have to look at my Outlook calendar to re-create the timeline of my activities; and an event just two weeks ago can feel like two months in the past. Quite frankly, it's pretty weird, but my peers experience the same.
When I chose the opening photo for this blogpost I had a hard time deciding between the East Coast's red-heavy foliage and the aspen-tainted yellows of Colorado. In the end I decided on a photo that expressed both the challenges yet also the exuberance and happiness that mountain biking entails. The mud, the shining eyes, that big smile all epitomize what I saw in so many of the athletes at the Whoop UCI Mountain Bike World Cup in Lake Placid, NY, as well as the 2025 USA Cycling National Collegiate Mountain Bike Championships in Grand Junction, CO.
Both races took place in the span of about two weeks, with my time at home between the two of them less than 12 hours, last Monday night. In 2024, I had been a member of the officiating team for the Lake Placid WC, but this year I stayed behind the scenes,
Keeping Sport Real, as the International Testing Agency's motto proclaims. I was joined by my colleagues Linda and Otavio, and—as always—that's about all I can tell you about my official capacity at this penultimate World Cup for the year. (At the conclusion of the race, most of the entourage moved north to Mont Sainte Anne in Quebec, for the final edition.)
But I
can tell you about how absolutely beautiful upstate New York presented itself during this first October week of the year! The mountains around this Olympic town (1932 and 1980) were aflame in colors ranging from the last greens to saturated reds and brilliant yellows. It was simply a joy to go to the endurance venue at Mt. Van Hoevenberg and the site of the downhill competition at Whiteface Mountain and soak in the technicolor palette that fall in the NE brings with it. Add to that perfect temperatures in the mid-70s, ample sunshine, and mild evenings, and you could almost forget that they have blackfly-haunted summers and bitter winters here.
The three of us had comfortable rooms at High Peaks Resort, on Lake Placid's quaint main street, just off the lake. We enjoyed excellent breakfasts at the property's restaurant,
The Dancing Bears, and in the evenings we had a chance to sample fine IPAs at the highly recommended
Prison City Brewing. I didn't see much of the actual racing, but that was OK as I'd get my fill just a week later in Colorado.
I had enough time to take the ski-gondola up to the Whiteface Mountain overlook, and the view was spectacular. The Adirondacks are not a very high mountain range, thanks to their old age—no 14,000 ft peaks here. But that doesn't mean that this is not wild, rough, and rugged terrain. There are 46 mountains of 4,000 ft or more, and another two are a bit more than 5,000 ft high. If you look at a map of the region you will see how many lakes—large and small—are nestled in the valleys. And the view from Whiteface let's you take in much of that scenery.
I spent five nights in Lake Placid, then flew home from the tiny airport at Plattsburgh (via Washington and Dallas), and spent one night in my own bed before leaving the next morning with the early flight to Phoenix. I had a layover just long enough to race into the Admirals Club to grab a breakfast to-go, and then I was off to Grand Junction, only about 30 miles east of the Utah state line. The GJT airport is hardly larger than the one in Plattsburgh, but using it beats the heck out of the 240-mile drive from or to Denver.
The flight from Phoenix to Grand Junction is just a little more than an hour long, and it crosses some impressive countryside. I was glued to the window, marveling at the beauty of the geological formations below, many of them in the Four Corners area.
As the Chief Referee of our collegiate national championships I was the first one of our six-person officials crew to arrive, and that also meant that I was the one who picked up our minivan and was tasked with our daily drive from our hotel to Powderhorn Resort, the venue for the races. Quite frankly, it was a bit of a bummer to have to drive every day for about an hour and a half up and down the mountain, but at least USA Cycling counted this as part of our workday and we were paid overtime (defined as more than 9 hours of work) on three days; on the fourth day, the crew enjoyed exploring town and even going on a trip to nearby Colorado Monument because all the day's events had been moved to an earlier day because of incoming weather.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday were gorgeous, with plenty of sun and mild temperatures. It was difficult to believe that we were about to get hit by what would turn out to be the heaviest 24-hour rainfall in Grand Junction in 50 years. I was briefly on the mountain on Tuesday afternoon and all day on Wednesday, discussing alternatives for our already-ambitious schedule that obviously was not going to withstand the forecast precipitation. We ended up running the short track, cross country, and team relay on the opening day, Thursday, when we clocked almost 14 hours (including our driving time).
When we arrived before daybreak on Friday morning, the downhill course had become mostly unrideable, with the clay-based soil clogging up wheels so that they no longer spun, at all. It rained, and the riders were completely caked in mud. The lodge's bathrooms were quagmires, and the bike wash was in non-stop use. Together with the mountain personnel, Tobin (tech director), Vanessa (events director), and I discussed alternatives and finally came up with a shortened race that would at least give us a chance to crown new national champions. It took a mammoth effort from everyone to redeploy the timing equipment, get marshals in place, and in general assure the integrity of the race. I cannot speak highly enough of my crew who weathered all this adversity, and of course the same goes to USAC and mountain personnel.
With Saturday being cancelled, I had a chance to have lunch with distant in-laws of Judy's, Toni and David. They picked me up at the
Courtyard and we spent a couple of hours talking non-stop over sandwiches at WestCo, a (newly opened) brewpub on the south-eastern edge of town. I had met the couple only once or twice, many years ago at a family reunion or two, but there was immediate chemistry between us, and I hope to see them again sooner or later.
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| Street names in GJ indicate the exact distance, in miles, from the Utah state line |
Speaking of brewpubs: Grand Junction has more than half a dozen of them, and I visited almost all. One of them,
Gemini, is housed in a 100-year-old school building; I was reminded of the
Ministry of Brewing in Baltimore, which calls an old church its home. Another one,
Ramblebine, had an impossible name but very good beer, and on Friday night our crew went out for dinner at
Trail Life Brewing, which not only had excellent beers but also tasty and reasonably priced food. The "downtown" area was clean, attractive, and vibrant, and all this in a town of about 72,000! No wonder Toni and David moved here after living in many other places in both Texas and Utah.
On Sunday, we were back on the mountain, bright and early. It was the day for the dual slalom, a race that relies on man-made berms and jumps. The mountain guys had tried to cover as much as possible of the course with plastic tarps, but the rain had done much damage. When I had a first look at the course I was almost 100% sure that it would be impossible to race on it. Tobin also was pessimistic, and we started to work on Plan B, staking out an un-bermed, non-jump parcours on a grassy slope. But the mountain guys would not give in and brought in dozens of bales of hay while using both pumps and blowers in an attempt to dry out the course.
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| USAC staffer Steve playing in the mud |
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| USAC's Technical & Events Manager Vanessa brings out the big hairdryer |
I have never been to a race with as many schedule changes and postponements as this one, but the hay soaked up some of the moisture; luckily, the thick fog and clouds lifted and the sun came out; and by noon we were able to start practice runs on the original course! While the track became better and better, we were now facing a race against time as the many runs (qualifications/seeding and then the finals) in a dual slalom competition require several hours, and while it was sunny and bright at noon we knew that dusk at 6:00 p.m. would come quicker than we could afford. So, the number of qualifiers was cut to a smaller number than anticipated, and practice runs also were adjusted. We managed to crown four new national champions (Men Varsity and Club, Women Varsity and Club) shortly after 5:00 p.m. Mission—somehow!—accomplished.
Despite all the changes and challenges for participants and organizers alike, the general mood was upbeat for the entire long weekend. Kudos to everyone who was involved. The students were so much fun to be around, exuding that team spirit that only scholastic teams display, be it in high school or later in college. This was, I believe, my 17th time to lead a crew of USAC officials at a National Championship, and as always it was gratifying and an honor to do so. It's not necessarily an easy job, but with an excellent crew it is easy to look good! Thanks, guys!
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| From left, Steve, Lynn, moi, Leslie, Holly, and Carlos |
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| Holly at the finish line |
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| Tobin and Carlos at the cross country start |
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| Lynn and Carlos wrangling the team relay contestants |
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| Steve and Carlos after getting soaked at the downhill start |
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| Tobin and Steve discussing the dual slalom start procedure |
I wrote these final few sentences while sitting in the Grand Junction airport, waiting for my delayed flight to DFW. All that was left was to select and add the photos, proofread and edit, and then give it one last edit before finally hitting the Publish button, sometime late Tuesday night. A few days at home will be nice....
Jürgen
The three of us had comfortable rooms at High Peaks Resort, on Lake Placid's quaint main street, just off the lake. We enjoyed excellent breakfasts at the property's restaurant, The Dancing Bears, and in the evenings we had a chance to sample fine IPAs at the highly recommended Prison City Brewing. I didn't see much of the actual racing, but that was OK as I'd get my fill just a week later in Colorado. 
I had enough time to take the ski-gondola up to the Whiteface Mountain overlook, and the view was spectacular. The Adirondacks are not a very high mountain range, thanks to their old age—no 14,000 ft peaks here. But that doesn't mean that this is not wild, rough, and rugged terrain. There are 46 mountains of 4,000 ft or more, and another two are a bit more than 5,000 ft high. If you look at a map of the region you will see how many lakes—large and small—are nestled in the valleys. And the view from Whiteface let's you take in much of that scenery.
The flight from Phoenix to Grand Junction is just a little more than an hour long, and it crosses some impressive countryside. I was glued to the window, marveling at the beauty of the geological formations below, many of them in the Four Corners area.
As the Chief Referee of our collegiate national championships I was the first one of our six-person officials crew to arrive, and that also meant that I was the one who picked up our minivan and was tasked with our daily drive from our hotel to Powderhorn Resort, the venue for the races. Quite frankly, it was a bit of a bummer to have to drive every day for about an hour and a half up and down the mountain, but at least USA Cycling counted this as part of our workday and we were paid overtime (defined as more than 9 hours of work) on three days; on the fourth day, the crew enjoyed exploring town and even going on a trip to nearby Colorado Monument because all the day's events had been moved to an earlier day because of incoming weather.
With Saturday being cancelled, I had a chance to have lunch with distant in-laws of Judy's, Toni and David. They picked me up at the Courtyard and we spent a couple of hours talking non-stop over sandwiches at WestCo, a (newly opened) brewpub on the south-eastern edge of town. I had met the couple only once or twice, many years ago at a family reunion or two, but there was immediate chemistry between us, and I hope to see them again sooner or later.
I have never been to a race with as many schedule changes and postponements as this one, but the hay soaked up some of the moisture; luckily, the thick fog and clouds lifted and the sun came out; and by noon we were able to start practice runs on the original course! While the track became better and better, we were now facing a race against time as the many runs (qualifications/seeding and then the finals) in a dual slalom competition require several hours, and while it was sunny and bright at noon we knew that dusk at 6:00 p.m. would come quicker than we could afford. So, the number of qualifiers was cut to a smaller number than anticipated, and practice runs also were adjusted. We managed to crown four new national champions (Men Varsity and Club, Women Varsity and Club) shortly after 5:00 p.m. Mission—somehow!—accomplished.
