With Eyes Wide Open
A Downhill Mountain Bike Race Escapade
Any mountain bike racer knows you need your eyes wide open when navigating downhill. One of my most amazing mountain-bike race adventures occurred in 1989 (in Big Bear Lake, California) while I was participating as a downhill racer on the Tioga Downhill event of the Fall NORBA Nationals. Unfortunately and only recently did I learn that downhill racing at Big Bear was ended because of too many lawsuits and the skyrocketing cost of insurance. That’s a shame, because I’d love to hammer down one more run as a 67-year-old woman with two bionic knees to prove to the world that I’m still fat at heart.
Anyway, back then, downhill racing was still in its adolescence and so was I – come to think of it. As any adrenaline junkie knows, one good scoot down a technical singletrack with its whoop-de-doos, berms and break-neck switchbacks, makes a roller coaster feel like the teacup at the local fair!
Montana Grande, Rosarito Beach, Mexico
Amazingly enough, even though I had entered the racing scene as a relative latecomer, I did quite well. I came in first place in the first-ever Montana Grande fun ride in Rosarita, Mexico back in 1988, and I’ve still got the 15-pound bronze trophy to prove it. The trophy depicts an Aztec warrior with spear poised, and I call him “Armando.”
Intestinal Fortitude
But back to the NORBA Nationals. Anyone who has ever ridden in a mountain bike downhill race knows the feeling. With intestines clenched, heart racing and sweat pouring from your armpits, you and your “steed” just head straight on down, as fast as you possibly can, with the feeling that the rider behind you is right on your back tire (regardless of whether there is actually anyone there or not).
Contact Lens Flies Out
I had zoomed down about three quarters of the downhill track in first place, surrounded by clouds of volcanic dust when I realized that one of my contact lenses had popped out of my eye! I screeched the bike to a halt, and stood off on the side of the trail for a moment trying to regain my senses as two women passed me. With one hand over my blind eye, I ambled over toward where I thought the lens had escaped. I knelt down on the side of the trail in search as another woman went by.
Just so you know, these were not the days of disposable contact lenses, my friends. This was a $150 lens that I HAD to find it lest be blind in one eye for the next two weeks.
Just as I had almost resigned myself to a Cyclopsian fate, I spotted it! I picked it up, squirted water from my bottle on it, affixed it to my eye, blinked to secure it while suffering the sandpaper feel of grit and non-salty solution, jumped back on my Raleigh Technium, and got back to roaring down the singletrack. And then with eyes wide open, I continued my race.
Reaching the Finish Line with Eyes Wide Open
I was blazing! I passed the first woman, and then the second, who was not far ahead of the first. Just as I saw the finish line in the distance like a hallucination in a desert, I revved it up just one more notch and blasted by the third woman, managing to come in first as the NORBA Downhill Female Champion in my class.
You can be sure there was plenty of celebrating that night with several rounds of good beers and the camaraderie of great friends. When I related my story about the errant contact lens, nobody could believe it. I still can hardly believe it myself.
About ten years later, I underwent Lasik surgery and have since been able to do away with contact lenses altogether. I think my riding even improved as a result. But when I think of that day in Big Bear, the way everything went down – literally – I know it’s one of the most pleasurable memories that I’ll enjoy reliving mentally until the end of my own proverbial trail.
