“Man, isn’t this embarrassing?” the mountain biker said as he pushed his bike up the steep hill to where I was already leaning over my bike, sucking air. I thought he was referring to being with me this far into the race.
“I lost my water bottle,” I said, making conversation by way of commiseration. I gulped some air to continue, but before I could he reached into his second cage and grabbed a spare water bottle. “Here. Take this.”
I was afraid it was about to happen three miles into the ride. I had grave concerns at Mile 24, became concerned again at Mile 51, was taken by surprise by the short climb at Mile 63 and thought worried it might happen then, and was surprised that it didn’t during the long pull between Miles 65 and 74. I was certain, though, that it would happen between Miles 80 and 87, I just wasn’t sure how severe it would be. And at that point, if I made it that far, I didn’t really care.
Steve uttered an annoyed grunt and pulled off the trail. “My seat,” he said. “It slipped.” Instinctively, I pulled over to take a look. He gave me a funny a look, gave the seat a quick shove, and hopped back on. Moments later, another annoyed grunt, followed by another trailside stop. “I need to get out my wrench.” Again, I pulled over and stopped.
Today was the 9th running of the Huck-A-Buck, the longest running (I’m pretty sure) mountain bike race in the Triangle. The race is run by Happy Fun Racing, a local bike club who’s tongue-in-cheek catch phrase is “Nothing But The Best.” Tongue-in-cheek because the race is known for it’s laid-back attitude. Laid-back, but well run by Chris Pappas, Pat Lundergan and a bunch of other Happy Funners who understand what mountain biking is about. Enough blathering, on with scenes from today’s Huck-A-Buck.
“Let’s see,” Alan said thumbing through his small white book of eclectic statistics, “he’s got Beech Mountain rated as the sixth toughest climb in the Southeast. It’s three and a half miles with an average grade of 9.2 percent — and a maximum of 17 percent.”