The Story Behind Rio Elite’s First National Champion Jersey
Below, Rio Grande Elite rider Henry York writes about his journey to becoming the national champion in the Elite Cross Country (25-29) Category!
“At the end of May I had just finished a spring campaign with Team Rio Grande. We raced the last three professional stage races on the US calendar, sleeping shoulder to shoulder, sharing the rio van on long drives and giving it all to race with best in the country. I was headed into a full time job, and with it, a change from this velo vagabond lifestyle. I wondered what the future still held for me in cycling.
Mirroring the change in lifestyle, I started riding off road more. Looking for inspiration, I set my eyes on Elite Mountain Bike nationals in winter park, CO. At first I thought it would just be a fun goal to focus on that was close enough to go to with my new job. The more I thought about it though, the more I came to realize I might have an outside chance. The race was at the lung busting altitude of 9500ft, which gave me an advantage living at altitude. The course had a mellow enough descent to not hemorage time from my roadie sensibilities; and the race was split into 5 year age groups, narrowing the talent pool.
With this encouragement, I set an obsessive plan. I slept at high altitude in Frisco as much as possible, even on some workdays to adapt to the thin air. Almost all of my training was done on my mountain bike to hone rusty skills and develop neuro-muscular pathways. I made the drive to winter park several times to practice the course over and over again until I knew the descents twists, turns, and technical features.
Finally, race day arrived. I pulled my old hand-me-down hardtail out of my car. An artifact from the Colorado School of Mines cycling team, it had two carbon repairs, missing paint and a look of desperation. To give myself some amount of confidence in the bike, I had put on new wheels, tires and fixed many ailments, including the crucial broken dropper post. I headed to the start line with my teammate Tayne Andrade who generously gave me one of his ice socks to combat the beaming summer sun.
The race started in a block headwind on a gravel road before hitting the single track. Instinctevely, I sheltered in behind the other riders before the road veerd up to around 10%. I had planned to race my pace no matter what the other riders were doing, since I there was ample room to pass on the climb and I didn’t think I would get held up on the descent by other riders with my average descending. So I was surprised when I slowly emerged on the front on the steep gravel road. I felt my confidence growing, only to be shaken by a vicous dash to the singletrack when it came into view. A colorful kitted rider surged ahead and held it to the top of the single track on the first lap of four. I was followed closely by two others.
To my surprise, I caught the leading rider on the descent, grateful for my practice on the course. I passed him, but was followed by the two riders who hung with me on the climb. After the descent there were two kickers and a technical wet rock garden before the finish. I pushed it on the kickers to keep the superior descending riders behind me on the short backsides of the kickers. I grew nervous as we approached the technical section. I had practiced it many times, but the slick rock had been further exposed by droves of juniors racing earlier in the day. I got through unscathed this time, with two riders still on my heels entering the second lap.
The rider with colorful kit never appeared on the second climb despite his dominance on the first lap. I assume he must have succumbed to the unforgiving altitude. Once you go past your limit, you never recover at 9500ft. Half way up the climb, one rider was still on my wheel, Cody Iverson of Baghouse. I was riding a razor’s edge of what I thought I could ride without going past my limit for recovery. I knew I had to get time on him or he would pass me on the descent. I felt great relief when he lost my wheel 2/3 up the climb. I wasn’t out of the woods yet though. My worries would come true in part as I reached the technical section. I slipped on the wet rock and caught myself with my foot preventing a crash. I had to run through the rock garden. My gap to Cody disappeared.
The third time up the climb, I was again followed by Cody. I pushed against my limit again and dropped him earlier this time. I made it to the top with a healthy gap, but I could see Cody in the distance by the end of the descent. For the first time, I came across the finish line alone with one ascent left. I used everything I had left to attack the final climb, and soon Cody disappeared from sight. A tear came to my eye as I realized I would likely win a national championship. I used that thought to drive myself up the remainder of the climb. I refocused, I could still lose by crashing on the descent. I took the familiar turns, carefully but with confidence. After safely navigating the rock garden, I approached the finish line and put my hands in the air.
The momentum of the occasion didn’t hit me until I was riding back to my car. Wins don’t come often in this sport, and I had just ridden into the stars and stripes jersey every American cyclist dreams of. It was only in the elite category and not professional, but it felt like the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. I’ve put a lot into this sport and thoroughly enjoyed the process, but have always dealt with the reality that I wasn’t quite good enough to make it as a professional. On this day, I was good enough to achieve a dream, despite the 9 to 5.”
- written by Henry York
