Golden, BC – July 2007
Here’s the thing about waking up with half a warm beer and some Oreos as your pre-race breakfast: it’s probably not what the pros recommend, but that’s exactly how race day started for me at Psychosis this year.
We’d been partying all night at Mary’s Motel in Golden. Our rooms were packed wall to wall with bikes because theft of custom rigs is pretty high, so we brought everything inside. There was literally no walking room. Just bodies, gear, and these insanely expensive downhill bikes crammed into every available space. We would have partied longer too, but a storm rolled through and kind of forced us inside earlier than planned.
Looking back, I’m not sure if I should be proud or disgusted with myself for eating that breakfast, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re 17 and about to race the world’s longest downhill mountain bike course.
The Build-Up
I’ve been racing since I was about 16, started with cross country which was definitely not my thing. Kept me fit, sure, but I liked the sprinting, the thinking fast, the way it became meditative when you’re moving at speed. Before that, I’d been freeriding in the mountains since I was about 14. In high school, every two to three weeks we were doing road trips to the mountains. I remember leaving school early so we could pack up and leave right after, or taking the odd Friday off. Mom didn’t mind as long as my grades were up.
I’ve done a few races in the Alberta Cup and Canada Cup. Races at Canada Olympic Park in Calgary. But Psychosis is different.
The group I’m with, we always seek new trails. We’ve done previous road trips to Golden and Mount 7, the mountain that Psychosis is on. It’s my favorite trail, especially near the bottom where it gets super fast and flowy. We train fairly often on the course. The first time we walked the trail to pick lines, then we’d go down the mountain section by section to critique and run lines. Eventually we put it all together.
To race Psychosis you either have some psychosis or you have some level of confidence. There’s always the what-ifs going on in the back of your mind and some level of care and attention needed.
Race Day Reality Check
As we were all driving in, we saw rescue helicopters rescuing people off the mountain before the race even began. Sobering moment. This is it. This is today.
I was at the top before my training run, standing near where the hang gliders literally jump off the mountain. I got into a conversation with one of them and he said we (mountain bikers) were insane for riding down the mountain. I was like, dude, you’re jumping off it.
But he wasn’t wrong.
Tyler Morland was there this year. One of the fastest riders in the world. The level of talent is insane. You’re standing at the top of Mount 7, looking down at what’s essentially a 5km vertical descent that they call “the most demented downhill race in the world,” and you’re about to drop in on your white Morewood Izimu next to actual legends.
The Hike-a-Bike Section
There’s this section called the hike-a-bike. It’s actually uphill. Fairly steep, and you lose so much momentum that it’s faster to get off your bike and physically run it up the hill to the next section.
Maybe not the scariest part physically, but there’s this thought in your mind: fuck, I’m going slow. I could feel some of the dust in the air from previous riders, so as I was doing the hike-a-bike, breathing in all that dust, it was brutal. Your coughing, yourlungs are burning, your legs are screaming, and you’re thinking about how many seconds you’re losing.
But the bottom of the course? That’s where you find flow. The trail gets smooth and you’re riding almost like you’re in a half pipe, going from one side of this small valley to another. When you dial it in, when you find those lines where you can literally float over obstacles, the whole course goes from really rough to smooth.
The Crash
My average speed ended up being 54 km/hour. Think about that for a second. That’s highway speeds on a mountain bike down a trail that’s barely wider than your handlebars in some sections.
During the race, I was in the lower half of the course doing a drop. What I was dropping into was pure fine dust. My front tire washed out and I went straight over my handlebars. My I see and feel my bike dropping underneath me and my body is flying forward, full motion. Full tumble.
The race marshal told me to stay down.
But in my head, I was laser focused. I didn’t think much of it. I remember my mind just saying “the race” as in, get back on your bike as quick as you can and go.
I felt something different on my leg. It wasn’t sweat, but I didn’t realize it was blood until I passed under the Red Bull arches at the finish line. I went straight to the first aid tent. Turns out I’d hit a large rock and it took a piece of my body with it. There was a chunk of flesh missing.
I finished the race with a literal piece of me missing and didn’t even know it until I crossed the finish line.
Commit or Eat Shit
That’s what we say. Commit or eat shit.
It’s a solid metaphor for life. Sometimes committing to a decision and following it through fully will give you more results and be a more positive thing than backing out. You may eat shit. This isn’t just for racing, it’s for everything.
When you’re at the top of Mount 7, waiting in the back of a pickup truck shuttle to get to the start line, waiting at least 20 minutes before your drop time, there’s this silence and stillness that comes inside. Something happens in your brain. The noise shuts off and you begin to focus.
I could see and visualize the course in my mind, see all my past runs and the lines I wanted. Even now, I can see it.
You don’t have time to be scared. You laser focus and actually use your peripheral vision to process things faster. Tunnel vision, but when you find and dial in that flow, it’s amazing.
What Your Body Can Do
The world’s longest downhill mountain bike race is definitely not for the faint of heart. When I crossed the finish line, I was exhausted. My body was shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline. I remember hearing my name from the announcer and the Red Bull girls cheering me on, but physically I’d given it my all.
I finished 34 out of 151 riders in the men’s category.
Not too many people can say they raced the world’s longest of anything or the “most demented” of anything.
The vibe at the bottom after your run is partly why I got into racing in the first place. Everyone is there for a good time and the sun. There are different team tents you can visit, sponsors of the event, a bit of a party vibe but also a chill vibe. We watched other riders finish, hiked sections of the mountain to cheer people on, hung out with pros like Tyler who was pretty chill.
Some of my friends hype me up to others, saying I’m a professional racer, but I never give myself enough credit. I’m fairly modest about it.
But here’s what this race taught me: you’re capable of so much more than you think when you’re terrified and pushing your limits. Your body shows you what it’s capable of when your mind can’t. Facing fear head on instead of overthinking. Untapped potential.
Would I do it again?
Hell yes.
Because at the end of the day, whether it’s racing down a mountain at speeds that make hang gliders call you insane, or any other decision in life where you’re standing at the edge wondering if you should jump, the answer is always the same.
Commit or eat shit.