Nimby 50 or, what anxiety?

Saturday morning, under glorious sunny skies and surrounded by snow-capped mountains, I raced my mountain-bike for the first time since September 2015. In the days, hours and minutes leading to the start of the 8th annual Nimby 50 in Pemberton, BC, I was anxious, nervous, filled with self-doubt and fear. But the moment that start gun fired, all those fears fell away like the dust behind my tires.

Friday I went for a short, easy road spin with a friend. She asked if I was excited for the race. “Short answer is yes.” The long answer, however, is that excitement is based on expectations. Expectations that the event goes a certain way, that it be a great, positive experience, that I perform well, no mechanicals etc. Anything short of those expectations means disappointment. So, I try not to get excited for such events. Besides, as someone who has struggled his whole life with chronic anxiety, my excitement typically manifests itself as fear, self-doubt and endless what-ifs. In the days before the race, I worried about crashing on one of those really gnarly granite rock-slab features. I worried about going out too hard early and blowing up on the climbs. I worried about, well, I just worried.

Following Friday’s road ride, coffee and a scone, there were errands to be completed before I hit the road for Pemberton, an easy 90min drive. As I was leaving town, I spotted a hitch-hiker with a big-ole down-hill bike, helmet and back-pack. “He’s got a bike…I have to stop.” I thought to myself. Mauritz, a young guy from Germany, he had moved here to finish high-school just so he could ride his bike in British Columbia. Heading to Whistler for opening day of the Bike Park, his pure, untainted passion for the bike hit a chord with me. Bidding each-other a great day of riding, I figured I’d earned a couple of bike karma points.

Arriving in Pemberton, my plan was a simple one; take it easy, chill out, purge the anxious thoughts from my mind and soul. Parked at One Mile Lake, I did some stretching on the dock, gazing upon Mt. Currie. Then came a short nap. I ate food, drank lots of water, read my book and took another nap. I slept well that night, made my way to the event parking lot, got my registration kit and continued the de-stressing. I drank water and my tasty-beverage, I stretched and chatted with others getting ready for the race. Soon enough, I was lined up at the start, surrounded by other happy cyclists. I took control of my breathing, keeping the anxious thoughts at bay.

When the gun went off, all the anxiety, all the expectations just fell away. Clipped-in and turning the pedals, all I had to do was ride my bike.

As I do for every race I enter, I set a few goals. Goal one is always the same: finish healthy. Check. Second goal was to finish in three hours thirty minutes. Beat that by eight minutes! Third goal was to ride the three features I walked while riding the course two weeks ago. I rode one and a half of them; I’ll call that success. My secret, don’t tell anyone goal, was to finish in under three hours. I’m happy with my 3:22:39

In brief, the course is a very tough 40’ish kilometres. The climbing is nuts, it goes on forever, the pain. I loved it. 101 single-track switch-backs and lots of short, punchy, cramp-inducing climbs late in the day when energy reserves are on low. The descents are fast, rocky and very technical but not ridiculous(remember, I was on a hard-tail with no dropper-post and only 90mms of travel up front). A fellow Ontarian commented that many of the features in this race would never be allowed in an Ontario XC race. Welcome to the mountains boy-oh! There were plenty of times where the dry, dusty alpine trails reminded me of riding in New Mexico or Colorado. Temperature was in the mid 20’sC/low 80’sF. It was mountain-biking bliss with enough suffering to keep you honest. Well marked, well supported, friendly and enthusiastic volunteers, it was an excellent event through-and-through.

With the race completed–happy, smiling and hungry–I chilled-out, beer in hand, with a bunch of equally happy mountain-bikers as we cheered the victors. Yup, another glorious day riding mountain bikes in the mountains. It just doesn’t get any better than this.

Back at home, the race behind me, a day of work ahead of me, I laugh at my silly anxiety, at my foolish, unfounded fears. Yet, I smile knowing that I will stress again ahead of my next event, and as always, the anxiety will fall away the moment I start turning my pedals, one at a time.

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