Issue link: http://trailridermagazine.uberflip.com/i/1534827
Miquel, the mechanics, or any of my team- mates. I find myself wondering, yet again, how I find myself in these predicaments. To put it bluntly, I was "physically, mental- ly, emo onally, logis cally and financially" unprepared for round one of the EnduroGP series. Late last year, for a variety of reasons, I had resigned myself to wai ng a year before I came back. But then this opportunity came about two weeks before round one. Miria Badia, last season's EnduroGP champion and Factory Rieju rider, had decided to re re, and Rieju decided they wanted to con nue to have two female riders, so they reached out to me. It was fortunate ming, because my back was up against the wall, and I quite liter- ally had no other op ons if I wanted to keep racing professionally in a meaningful way. I only saw my contract the day before the EnduroGP of Portugal, and technically didn't sign it un l two days a erwards. The two le knee braces had become what my high school English teacher, Dr. Allen, would describe as "symbolic of the underlying theme." The race weekend proceeded as usual for an EnduroGP: walking the course, shaking down the bike, the Friday night Supertest, then two full days of racing on Satur- day and Sunday. As our rental van/bedroom/kitchen was intermi ently blocked in place in Paddock B, two of my friends/compe tors, Emily Hall and Vilde Holt, took turns le ng me ride out on the back of their scooters or chase bikes to the tests. Much like neighbors who will take shared responsibility for feeding the friendly neigh- borhood stray. Like last year in Portugal, both the Enduro and Cross tests were open and hilly, not much true "single-track" in sight. The dirt there has a fair bit of decomposed granite, so it drains well and gets surprisingly good when wet, almost like the west coast of the US does. The cor- ner ruts were epic by the second me through the test and u erly destroyed by the sixth. The Extreme test had several in mida ng granite rock faces and one massive twelve-foot drop off a boulder to flat. The runup was awkward as my dance moves, so the speeds would be slow, prac cally invi ng wheel spin and guaranteeing an unforgiving landing. The rock itself was shiny and wet, and the landing was slightly off-camber. The chicken run /easy line would cost at least six seconds, maybe more. But I thought of the expression on the faces of my new Fred Ccy Photography Fred Ccy Photography