Two hours earlier, I’d had my chance to qualify for the 4X finals in men’s expert and now it was my turn to sit in the sun and be a fan.

One by one the pro’s came down the hill, tearing up the berms and floating over the jumps like I’d like to do one day. I was studding them. The lines they’d take, the body position they’d choose. When did they pedal? How long did they pedal? What gear were they in when they took that berm and just where were their eyes? Were they looking at the jump, the lip of the jump, the landing then the berm below it?

It was while I was pondering these questions that a friend of mine and pro rider EVELIO “Evil” SUAREZ (NEMA, Ironhorse) came up the riders trail on his way up to the top for some practice.

Evil and I discussed the lines and the tactics. We spoke about pedaling and when to put that power in. I really appreciate riders like Evil. He takes the time to give me some much needed advice and, to this day, hasn’t been afraid to poke a little fun at me if I fail to do something…like take the berm quicker or, in the case of Fontana’s 4X track, fail to take the kicker in the second line.

But it was while Evil and I were discussing the track that I came up with my subject for my race report. One of the things that make 4X one of the most exciting bicycle sports (Along with Dual Slalom) is it’s not about the pure power or the “no fear” skills-it’s about the brain. This isn’t a race against the clock. It’s a race that pits you against three other riders and yourself.

Forget the bike set up, the tire choice, food, warm ups, the gear choice, line choice, or any other choice, this isn’t about any of that. One of the key’s to being successful at racing 4X isn’t in the leg, the frame, or the sick matching race gear. It’s what’s under the helmet, floating around the brain.

4X is a mind game against yourself.

The fight for me begins the night before the race. I was stretching on the floor of my hotel room with a pair of headphones on my head. I was listening to Gorillaz and trying to ignore the tiny devil on my right shoulder. Even though his voice was small, he was, if anything, persistent.

“Dude…let’s go home. This isn’t for you, man. You were made for something entirely different! You’re too big for this game. You didn’t work on this enough and the other riders are so much better than you. You’re going to break something and end up in the hospital. Let’s be honest, Bob, you’re doing this for a little fun so even if you do go, just push a bit, but don’t go all out. You might get hurt….”

I turned up my iPod, but that voice has a way of carrying through the music. The Black Angels tried to reel me in with a wicked guitar rift, but the tiny little devil on my right shoulder pressed on with his, “Let’s just do what we can in the race the go home.” speech.

And it begins.

I can’t tell you how to get rid of the tiny devil on your shoulders, but I can tell you how I smash mine in the mouth.

“I’m prepared.” I say and the tiny devil shuts up and stumbles a bit. He’s speechless.

There are a lot of factors in the game of 4X, but one of the biggest is the mind games you play with yourself. The only way to stick it to that little doubting devil is to prepare. Practice your riding, your jumps, play with the gears until you’ve got them dialed. Take the time to find out what pressures work best in your tires and forks. Find somebody like Evil to point out your problem areas then do what you can to make them your strengths.

Don’t believe me? Watch the pros in their pits. Check them out. And that’s just before a race. By being prepared you take the doubting devil’s ammunition away. The more you dial yourself in, the less he has to say and the less he has to say, the better you’ll do and the better you do…well…you get the picture.

I prepared for the first round of the US nationals, but I found some problem areas, so, I’m off with shovel in hand to build me a set of jumps in the back area of my house. Weakness into Strength.

Cheers,

Bob "Building Sicko Jumps" Burnes

I took my hands off the grip and repositioned them again. I looked up to a man on a boulder about 15 meters away. I watched his hands. I watched his face. I watched him turn toward us. He put one hand in the air and gave the gate official near me a thumbs up.

The gate official said something that got stuck at the doors of my mind. I took a look at the rear wheel of my bike to ensure I was in the correct gear, then I turned my eyes to the right and watched the gate officials right hand. He was holding on to the ring that was attached to the rubber band that made up our make shift gate. At the command of “7 seconds” he would release it-well, he could release it, but experience had taught me he let the band go at 3-4 seconds.

A trickle of sweat ran its way from somewhere above my eyebrows and traced a crazy line down my nose until it crashed into the foam of my goggles.

I rocked my bike back and forth-just a few millimeters in anticipation. The gate snapped and all four of us were off, but I missed placed my left foot and I missed a pedal. In just a few short furious seconds I was lagging behind the other riders desperately trying to find my footing, desperately trying to find the power.

I was behind in 4^th place and every missed pedal stroke let the other riders increase the distance between us, then, in a moment only another racer could understand, it all hooked up. My left foot found home and I fired off my left leg then my right then my left until I was smashing my drive train in circles.

I came through the berm in 4^th, but in a series of pedal strokes I overtook 3^rd, then 2^nd, and before the next final jump in the second line, I pushed into 1^st place.

It was in that turn, with the tires bouncing and screaming for traction, but begging to let go. It was in that turn that the sun exploded through the trees and cast rays of golden light over the track, with the dust reaching up and catching as much afternoon warmth as it could, with the race fans yelling for the riders to, “GO GO GO!” It was in that turn that my reason for racing existed.

It’s that reason that keeps me driving the lonely miles to the venues. It’s why I’ll pay the gas, pay the hotel, pay the registration fees, and love every second of it.

It’s why I take my bike apart then put it back together before the race to ensure it’s clean and all my parts are working perfectly. It’s why I wipe down my helmet and goggles, why I clean my shoes, and why I spend hours a day stretching and working out just to drive hundreds of miles and eat food that isn’t fit for the dogs, but I’ll eat it anyway.

For the love of the gate, for the love of the dirt, for the love of the race.

It’s why I’ll be at the 1^st round of the US Nationals in a week in Fontana, CA. and why I think you should be there too.

If you’ve never seen a 4X race I think it’s time. It, along with dual slalom and BMX, are some of the most exciting disciplines in bicycle racing. The speed, the jumps, the hair raising passes, and the gnarly crashes.

And hopefully, you find your reason and I’ll see you on the gate.

Look for me. I’ll be the “Storm trooper” looking guy in the pits with the insane smile on his face.

Cheers!

Bob B