"You should definitely go racing."
I had announced this grandly on stage at the BIKE Festival in Willingen just a few hours earlier. Everyone should do it. Just start. Stay relaxed. Ignore the timekeeping. Treat the whole thing as an adventure playground and not as a job interview.
A few hours later, I'm standing in the Sauerland forest in front of the first special stage and realise: I've been lying to myself.
My pulse increases. My hands become moist. Somewhere between birch trunks and beech leaves, my ego takes control.
Of course I want to be fast.
Of course I want to look good.
Of course I want to be better than the others.
Welcome to racing.
The problem with the Olympic idea
The Bosch E-MTB Challenge is actually a friendly format. An enduro race for normal people, at least in the amateur classification. No World Cup stars, no professional attitude. Instead, lots of laughter, slapstick and long transfers through the green hills of the Sauerland. In between: so-called stages - short special stages uphill, downhill or both.
In some uphill sections, there is even a competition judge with watchful eyes to check who takes their foot off the pedal. Anyone who puts their foot down receives a penalty second. In these "No Feet Zones", the aim is to ride so technically clean that... that's right: your foot stays on the pedal. This is of course almost impossible, unless you are trials star Stefan Schlie, who can get up anywhere and only runs 0.8 bar in his tyres for maximum traction. In the end, Stefan Schlie ends up in 3rd place in the Advanced classification.
The highlight: nobody knows the route.
No training runs. No track inspection. No insider advantages.
Blind date instead of dress rehearsal.
Actually, that's exactly my thing. After all, I spend a lot of my free time riding down unknown trails in the Alps. Looking, reading, reacting. Improvisation instead of perfection.
But theory and practice are, as we know, distant relatives.
My mate Florian warms up in front of me. Squats. Frog jumps. Mobilisation exercises. A man with a plan.
I then swing my leg through the air a few times like Bruce Lee and feel very silly. Flori takes off in front of me, dashing off between the trees. My easy rider attitude is now completely gone. Pulse high. Killer look. Full determination.
The start marshal looks at his clipboard, notes my start number and says: "Go!"
Harakiri on wet roots
The Bosch motor pushes on.
Turbo mode.
In front of me, roots glisten in the morning light. It had rained during the night. These things look like anacondas. Slippery, treacherous, wet at night.
A sensible person would drive carefully now.
Not me.
I drive faster than I'm actually capable of. The technical jargon calls this overpacing. The layman calls it complete overconfidence.
The YT Decoy sits firmly on the trail. The Conti Kryptotal tyres stick to the ground. Still! My confidence is growing, my fine motor skills are barely keeping up.
Then a bump in the road. I pull off!
The idea: jump over the root carpet, land behind it, save time. That's the theory.
The practice: flight phase, landing, chaos. Something slips. Maybe the rear wheel. Maybe the front wheel. Maybe my entire life plan. A moment later, all I can see is forest floor.
My brain switches to alarm mode. SOS. Crash. Rollover.
Then comes the second thought: Get up. Keep going. No time to lose. Everything is still possible!
After all, the ego doesn't surrender without a fight. I drag the bike out of the bushes. The glasses are crooked. The brake lever is pointing towards the sky. There's blood on my arm.
The turbo gets me going again. I jump over a root. I'm sure it'll work this time.
It doesn't! I fall. For the second time. Bam! Full contact with the ground. Ouch! Root hits rib, knee digs into the ground. Pain! A voice screams in my head: No way!
The liberating effect of a departure
Two spectators look at me. It's the look that people reserve for people who have just proved that self-confidence is not a qualification. They look at me like I'm a complete idiot. Like someone who kills himself because he doesn't know what he's doing. Like those tourists who want to go swimming in the monster wave Pipeline in Hawaii.
Now I drive more slowly.
Much slower.
So slowly that you can hardly call it driving, but rather stamping.
I cross the finish line.
And suddenly something surprising happens.
It feels good.
The ego lies somewhere between the roots of the first stage. The expectations right next to it. The pressure to perform has also left an impact crater.
What remains is relief.
May, engines and small victories
We roll relaxed to the next stage.
The transfers are long enough to take in the scenery. Upland shows itself from its best side. May light. Meadows in bloom. Warm air. Erich Kästner was right: "If only there were a year of May."
The next special stage begins with a notorious no-feet zone. Anyone who puts their foot down receives penalty seconds.
A driver comes towards us.
"Better get off right away," he says. "That's quicker."
Maybe that's the secret.
Because I no longer expect anything, I'm suddenly doing well.
I master passages where others fail. I overtake riders. They hang on the slope, pushing, sliding, swearing, panting. This stage is a small, thin plaster for my biker honour. I can do it, I think, climbing over slippery roots and finding my rhythm again.
Not fast. But fluid.
And surprisingly satisfied.
The most beautiful advert in the world
The last stage leads uphill.
Uphill of all things.
While I'm motoring up a steep slope in turbo mode, another driver next to me is struggling with gravity and traction.
He looks at my bike.
Then he shouts: "Oh, the new Bosch! I'd like that too!"
I drive on and have to laugh.
No marketing agency in the world could have written this moment better.
Later, I'm sitting in the finish area. The rib hurts. The jersey bears a blood stain of remarkable size. I'm no longer interested in the result.
What remains is something else.
The realisation that racing can actually be fun.
Not because you win. But because they reliably show you who you really are.
In my case: a man who preaches serenity on stage and ten minutes later tries to play the hero on wet roots.
I'll be back next year.
If only so that this first stage doesn't have the last word.
The fastest riders in the Bosch E-MTB Challenge
Amateur Men (5 stages)
- Florian Haymann (WoFFM) - 11:20.36 min
- Felix Wolff (Screwloose) - 13:10.47 min
- Sebastian Schrader - 13:22.01 min
Amateur Women
- Elena Martinez Estrada - 16:32.08 min
- Anja Leupold - 17:40.68 min
- Josephine Georgi (RSV Adler Arnstadt) - 19:34.63 min
Advanced Men (7 Stages)
- Jan Schäfer (Bikestore Überwald) - 14:12.08 min
- Marcel Schröder (YetiCyclesDe / BadBikes) - 14:43.73 min
- Stefan Schlie - 15:20.89 min
Advanced Women
- Tanja Jung - 19:53.26 min
- Antonia Busch (NoTalentRacing) - 20:22.78 min
- Sarah Jahnel - 24:32.43 min
Pro Men (Pro Stages)
- Tiago Ladeira - 15:20.48 min
- Christian Textor - 15:29.06 min
- Erik Emmrich - 15:29.38 min
Pro Women
- Helen Weber (Rotwild Schwalbe Gravity Team) - 16:54.85 min
- Anna Spielmann - 17:31.31 min
- Florencia Espineira - 18:38.76 min
German Championship - Women
- Helen Weber (Rotwild Schwalbe Gravity Team) - 16:49.85 min
- Sofia Lena Wiedenroth - 18:57.80 min (+2:07.95)
- Jana Urban - 19:00.25 min (+2:10.40)
German Championship - Men
- Johannes Fischbach (Raymon Racing) - 15:27.35 min
- Christian Textor - 15:29.06 min (+0:01.71)
- Erik Emmrich - 15:29.38 min (+0:02.03)
Dimitri Lehner
Editor
