Last Minute Racing, Part 23

My downhilling mojo got lost somewhere in the garage and my running stoke has been unquenchable, so I wasn't going to race the Targhee Enduro this year. And then I was like, "Maybe." And then I was like, "Definitely not."

On Tuesday I pretended I was a competent bike mechanic. I successfully greased my pivots and unsuccessfully modified my rear suspension. Changed a flat. Gave up on the Stag and felt morose.

On Wednesday the course was released. It was very pedally and featured some choice descents. I made yet another 180 and registered. A cheap entry from Kate's Real Food made the decision easier.

I didn't want to deal with the minor hassle of getting the Stag race ready. I reached out to Fitzy's in hopes of borrowing a 27.5+ bike and Derrick graciously set me up with a Trek Fuel. Given my hot and steamy love affair with plus bikes (Salsa Pony Rustler and Rocky Mountain Pipeline) I figured the Fuel would get me jazzed and keep me upright on the dusty, blown-out corners of Targhee.

I did a couple pre-rides and the persnickety voice in my head wouldn't shut up. These hubs are pitiful. The drivetrain is so loud. My calves are rubbing the swing arm. Why would a dropper post only have 125mil of travel? WHAT THE FUCK IS A FRONT DERAILLEUR?!?! 

It looks pretty dang good though.

I was spoiled rotten with a sturdy, quiet, low-frills, high-end sexy beast of a bike. But I fiddled some more with the squish and reminded myself to stop riding like an asshat and then the Fuel and I started getting along.

The enduro start was much cooler than last year and the women's field bunched together under blankets at the top of the lift as we awaited our start. I was so glad to have a decent-sized field. We laughed and jumped up and down and spouted out the cheerful self-deprecation one always hears on a ladies' start line.

On Sticks and Stones I cleaned a line I've never attempted before, a techy root drop that wouldn't give me pause on a normal trail but for some reason gets me clenched at the resort. Because, you know, people with full faces and double crowns ride here. I let out a quiet exultation and finished the stage. smooth and fast.

We went straight to the climb this year. I felt wonderful. I wore a shark's grin as I chomped down Skittle-colored boys climbing slowly. Another ripping, flawless descent down 38 Special, my legs crying as I punched it out of every awkward switchback.

Hoping to keep ahead of the bros, I immediately started the Mill Creek descent and entered into full-on flow mode, reacting to obstacles and hauling ass with clear vision. The Fuel grabbed the trail in a vice grip and refused to let go.

I finished Day One exuberant but knew better than to count any chickens, given my abrupt and thorough humbling last year. The results popped up on the screen--I managed a last place on Sticks and Stones, a first place on 38 Special (such an XC geek), and a third on Mill Creek. Solid mid-pack. Upon further perusal, I realized that all of the pro women finished within a minute of each other, which got me all fired up again. It's so thrilling to be in the mix in such a strong, competitive field!

Tomorrow is a short day with a rough, purely downhill stage, so I know I'm not going to beat any of these ladies in their domain, but I raced my absolute best today and have no regrets.