The XTERRA Experience: From the Eye of an Age Grouper
By: Courtney Page
Fourteen years have passed since Hawaiian haoles Chris Day and Dave Nicholas arrived in Richmond, Virginia to scout out the southern woods, rivers and railroads in order to find the perfect off-road treachery we now call XTERRA.
Thanks to them, come June 10th you'll be back, wading through the James River on the uneven rocky river bottom under the CSX train trestle in downtown Richmond, trying awkwardly to get upstream from hundreds of racers relieving themselves in the starting area.
It's not a pretty sport – although the starting line usually looks like a Vogue magazine cover of sinewy, muscled models with 0 percent body fat. This is my first piece of advice: Don't judge a book by its cover at the XTERRA East Championship. Good looks won't help you when flying headfirst over your handlebars into the biggest briar patch you've even seen.
Something like a Marine Corp-boot-camp obstacle course, much of the 1,000-meter swim involves avoiding rebar, tree limbs, sharp rocks, river reeds, wild elbows, and spastic legs. And the river is unpredictable, due to the currents and the ever-changing water level. Course designers swear, “The swim has its own terrain. It goes up, and it goes down; it is definitely not a flat swim.”
In fact, it barely qualifies as a swim at all. Some years the river is so low you find yourself scraping along the bottom while other years the early summer floods have you crafting your epitaph while you struggle to avoid the fall line 100 yards to your left. Halfway through the swim you exit the water and stumble 500-feet on a banana-peel-lined muddy bank, only to jump back in the river and crawl again – this time upstream. At the end you run up a boat ramp cemented with sharp unidentified objects and proceed 450-yards across rocks back to the transition area. Twenty minutes have passed, and you've barely yet begun.
It has been said that transitions are the place where people's personalities come out. Everything can be told about a person by the way they lay it out on a towel. Perhaps true, but you'll have little time to contemplate other people's stuff when what you need is a compass and a map to even find your own bike. When you do it's like spotting an old friend on the subway platform in New York City at rush hour. Frenzy ensues. Shoe, shirt, helmet, glasses, hydration pack, socks, food, suntan lotion, Gatorade, PowerBar, gloves … you might as well take out an ad in The Richmond Times-Dispatch: YARD SALE-10:30am, Tredagar Iron Works.
I've heard that in Nepal a single Sherpa, with no oxygen, can carry an entire Everest tour's provisions all the way to the top of the mountain. Remember that as you carry your bike over Wizard of Oz roots, rocks, mud, water, concrete bridges, drop-offs, logs, steps, and even down hills. Although there are plenty of washed-in-the-blood (literally) mountain bike pros who don't even unclick their step-in pedals during the 18-mile course, the majority of racers will have to dismount at least once.
The Family Circus cartoonist couldn't draw a map of the bike course. Its two loops of adventure take you from the footbridge with a view —to the top of Belle Isle for a bike traffic jam—to the wooden tar-smelling crossing bridge— to the concrete barrel singletrack — to the gravel fire road — to more singletrack through the woods to the little hell island — to a backside mud puddle —- to a spiral staircase to the sky —- to the Buttermilk Trail — to funky fun-house stairs to impossible hill —- to a river rat tunnel —- to impossible cement balance-beam bridge —- to Forest Hill lung-buster —- to stone path hiccup stairs —- to crazy moss-backed rock crossing —- to super-technical singletrack trails —- to uphill fire trai l—- to more super-technical singletrack —- to yet another spiral staircase – and then you cross the river where more madness ensues.
It's a little known fact, but there are no mirrors allowed in the transition area. At this point in the race if you got a glimpse of yourself, you'd hang it up and go home. Mud, blood, bruises, helmet head, and black ink tar from your race number – it's all on your face. You're beginning to wonder if this is the hottest day of your life.
So there you are, 10K away from sipping lemonade in a lawn chair by the river. You won't see any cheerleaders in white skirts or marching bands playing in your honor, but you'll get a burst of crowd-induced energy as you leave the transition and think, “The next time I'm here, I'll be done.”
You'll soon discover that the run course is modeled after Harrison Ford's escape in The Fugitive – minus only the waterfall jump. I like to imagine the pre-race prep crew from Hawaii clearing the course with no prior knowledge of Virginia and its indigenous snake population. At Reedy Creek Rock Garden, you'll appreciate being a number in the pack, making your way across the James, jumping from rock to rock. A good mantra that's worked for me is “Go away, snakes!” repeated in a loud, authoritative voice (I understand snakes don't like loud noises).
Once across the river, back on Belle Isle, you and your water-logged shoes will begin to smell the hay in the barn. All that's passed in the hours before will be lost in a fog of delirium, and you'll find yourself digging deep when you round the corner to the finish.
As you come across the line, someone will snap a shot of you in all your raw, dirty, beat-up beauty. A long line of people will give you high fives, and your friends will offer full body hugs despite your current state of hygiene. You'll down a bottle of some of the best-tasting water of your life and “talk story” about your adventures with the other racers.
To join in the action or for more information about the XTERRA events in Richmond visit www.xterrarichmond.com. Fans can also follow the 14th annual XTERRA East Championship pro race live on Sunday morning, 8am, at xterra.luckstone.com.