Lois Eller's premiere at the DH World Cup: Three times green, once red - a father & son report

Holger Meyer and Karen Eller are known as the Beckhams of the bike industry. The two thoroughbred bikers have been cruising from event to event for over 30 years: first as racers, later as riding technique gurus, authors and brand ambassadors. So it was hardly surprising that their son Lois and daughter Leni would also fall victim to the mountain bike virus at some point. They race. Fast. Very fast. A dream came true for son Lois: competing in the UCI Downhill World Cup. With him: dad Holger, mechanic, mentor and nervousness manager in one. The pair talk to us about their joint World Cup premiere in the juniors - between adrenaline, berms and goosebumps.

Text: Holger Meyer & Lois Eller

Review:

HOLGER: Serfaus-Fiss-Ladis, nine years ago Holger: I remember the moment. Serfaus-Fiss-Ladis, some kids' race. Lois was eight or nine, I can't remember exactly. He meets Jackson Goldstone, then 16, already a rising star in the downhill circus. And my boy says to me: "When I grow up, I want to race the World Cup." I thought: Yeah, sure, kid. Go ahead and dream.

LOIS: Jackson was my idol. We rode together, he was much older, raced, then did the World Cup. And I thought: "Yes, I want to do that too." Freeride? Was never my thing. I always wanted to race. That adrenaline. That feeling when you get to the bottom after the run and everything went perfectly. That's it.

HOLGER: But he wasn't just dreaming. He followed through. Consistently. Rookies Cup, IXS Cup, European Cup. Regular gym sessions, endurance training, time on the bike. This winter he took it to the extreme: a year abroad in New Zealand. "Dad, I'm giving up skiing. I want to train in winter." That was the preparation for this World Cup season.

That's the moment when it hurts to be a father. This emotional closeness. I wait. Seconds turn into eternities. Then my mobile rings.

The exit of the father

HOLGER: I used to be where he is now. More than twenty years ago. Top 3 in Germany, GT team, international races. But at some point I said: No more. GT broke, team gone. And honestly? I was fed up. Travelling to Tabarz, sitting in the shuttle for a whole weekend, for three minutes of racing. Training, training, training, racing. Nine minutes on the bike, done. When everything fell apart, Scott offered me something: I said yes to life after the race. And it was the right decision. For me. When Lois started racing seriously, I was sceptical at first. "Do you really want to do this to yourself?" But he was determined. Very determined.

LOIS: Dad tried to slow me down a bit. "Why don't you do this, why don't you do that?" But I knew: I want to race. I want the World Cup. Two years junior, then UCI team. That's the plan. At 15, he was faster than me Holger: I knew this moment was coming. Every son overtakes his father at some point. For us it was at 15, and in the bike park he took three metres off me in every corner. I was riding the ideal line, perfect position, years of experience. He was still faster. But on the technical trail? I was still allowed to ride ahead. Until he asked at some point: "Dad, can I go first?"

LOIS: I can't remember exactly when the moment was. At some point it was like this: "Dad, you're driving so slowly, let me drive now." Since then, it's been like this: me in the front, Dad, my big sister Leni, then Mum.

Korea: In another world

LOIS: Korea was awesome. First time there. The food? Incredibly delicious. Korean BBQ, fish in Seoul. Once we saw a live octopus in a pan. Crazy shit. But we didn't eat it. The people are funny, everything is different. But cool. I had no expectations. No fear. Okay, a little: That there was something on the bike that Dad and I couldn't fix. We're just not the best mechanics.

HOLGER: That's why we had a spare bike with us - as a safety net. At the races in Europe, we have a mechanic and even a mental coach and a strength coach. I am the supervisor. The ride organiser. The guy who books flights and hotels, cooks, cleans and makes sure my boy hasn't forgotten half of his things at the airport gate. And the dad.

Training: The track is loose

HOLGER: The route was impressive. This massive launch ramp at the top. B group trained: Juniors and Elite Women. Then comes the A group - the big names. I stand there, check Lois' bike, wait. And then I look. Details. This is downhill. Details are everything. Asa rides Argotal tyres. All the other Continental riders use Kryptotal tyres. Interesting. We have Argotal with us. Should we have changed tyres? Asa later wins with Argotal tyres. "Shit," I think. "We should have tried it."

LOIS: The route? Loose. Very loose. Not bike park style, more natural. I thought it was cool. Many others were sceptical. No tracks, everything was fresh. Should they have let a few riders through first? Definitely. But that's just the way it was. And stones everywhere. Everyone knew: risk of flats. Dozens of riders got flat tyres in training. But I was lucky. Still.

In the evening: GoPro instead of Netflix

HOLGER: We sit together in the hotel in the evening. No Netflix series. Instead: GoPro footage. Training loop, every turn, every jump. Lois analyses. "Dad, what do you think? Inside or outside?" We're lucky - line scouts from the Scott Elite team give us tips. "The highline works better. It's retracted. There's a berm in front of it, you pick up more speed." Next training run: implemented straight away.

LOIS: Dad helps with so many little things. Cooks for me, cleans my bike, does things so that I can relax. It feels like home. And when it comes to analysing the route: he has experience. It's often the little things that help. What's annoying sometimes? He talks to everyone. Any driver we don't know. "Oh man, dad."

Qualifying run: Start gate

HOLGER: The morning of qualifying. I'm more nervous than he is. This emotional closeness. When a stranger crashes, you think: too bad. When your son crashes, you think: Please, please, please let him be okay. Lois hugs me before the start. "I'll see you later, Dad." Then he disappears into the start gate. There's nothing more I can do. Just wait.

LOIS: Things get serious at the start gate. All the good drivers are lined up there. You only have one qualifying run - otherwise the journey was in vain. I take a deep breath. Try to stay calm. My coach says: "Stay at 97 per cent." Strange number, but it sticks in my head. Don't overpace. You automatically give more in the race run anyway. I visualise. Every bend, every jump. Then: the gate opens. Let's go.

The run: Three green splits

HOLGER: I'm standing at the track, mobile phone in hand, live timing. First split: Green. Second split: Green. Third split: Green. My heart is racing. "He's leading, crazy! He's leading."

LOIS: First bend: loose, but okay. Then: flow. I do everything as I have visualised. Don't give everything. Just come down well. Clean. Controlled. Then, in one section, I think: "Dude, that was fast." Go on. Then I have to jump into a drop. Small drop, but you don't really brake because you need speed. And there are only rocks. 50:50 chance. PSSSST. "Oh, no."

The disc

LOIS: I can hear the air going out. But no matter. I drive on. That doesn't stop me. I'll still qualify, I think to myself. Three bends later: rear wheel slips. No more air at all. Crash into the catch fence. On my face. A little sore toe. Nothing serious.

HOLGER: Fourth split. Red. Then: nothing more. I stare at the display. "Fuck. He's crashed." This is the moment when it hurts to be a father. This emotional closeness. I wait. Seconds turn into eternities. Then my mobile rings. "Dad, everything's fine. Just had a flat tyre." Relief. Frustration. Both at the same time. "You were green. The first three splits. You were leading." Silence on the other end. "Shit. Didn't know that."

LOIS: I was angry at the finish. Then they said to me: "You were really fast at the top." I was even sourer then. But then I got over it. Look ahead. Would I have crashed because of my own mistake? That's another topic. But with the flat tyre? 50:50 chance. That's not in my control. It just happens. Bad luck.

HOLGER: He was composed. Incredibly composed. A flat tyre is bad luck. But it was an encouragement. The tactics were right. If he had managed the run - who knows.

The goal: Two years junior

LOIS: Two years Junior World Cup. Then UCI team. That's the plan. Next World Cup: Loudenvielle, France. Then Leogang - feels like home. Then Val di Sole for the World Championships. I'm looking forward to it. I'm not sad about the flat tyre. I'm hungry. Next time I'll complete the run. Next time there will be four green splits.

HOLGER: His goal is clearly defined. I used to be where he is now. But I got out. He's getting in. And me? I'm the dad. The supporter. The dispatcher. The emotionally vulnerable one. When he starts at the top and the splits turn green, I sympathise. When they turn red, I do too. But that's okay. That's the deal. Korea was just the beginning

HOLGER: We will continue. European World Cups, the whole season. Small team, big dreams. I have to juggle my schedule like crazy because I also have to work. But we can manage that. And yes, it's sometimes emotionally difficult. This closeness. But it's also the best thing I've ever done.

LOIS: Four green splits next time. I promise.

HOLGER: Welcome to the World Cup circus,

LOIS: I've arrived, Dad.