In 2000, the theme of my racing season was quantity, and my body was beginning to object. In the week leading up to the Roselawn enduro, my 5th event in that many Sundays, my back had been sore from a hard landing off a jump the previous week at the Columbia, Missouri hare scramble and my throttle hand suffered from soreness. But Roselawn was close to my homeland and my mother's cooking, so I packed my racing bag with ibuprofen and drove into the flatlands of Northwest Indiana.
The spring race at Roselawn was a new event for the new millennium, after decades of the Hill and Gully riders hosting a single event in August named Summer Bummer. The spring race would be called "Brrr in the Bush," an entirely appropriate name based on cool temperatures and trails which, at times, seemed to have been carved straight through bushes. Unlike the summer race, however, the lack of foliage made the dense undergrowth almost transparent. For a change, I'd be able to see more than 15 feet ahead of my handlebars.
A few weeks earlier the Worldwide Web, with its growing audience for all things off-road, had introduced me to Bill Steele, by way of the DirtRider.net discussion forum. Bill was a member of the club organizing the race and a resident of nearby Bourbonnais, Illinois where I'd lived prior. Bill provided me some early route sheet information. He also hooked me up with another Bourbonnais racer who was looking for someone to share a row with. In the five of so years I'd lived in that part of Illinois, I'd never run across anyone local who shared my passion for dirt bikes. Here I was now, 250 miles distant, meeting guys I wished I had known earlier.
I'd earned my first-ever enduro trophy at the Summer Bummer the previous year, so I graduated myself from the C class to the B class for 2000 enduros. My local hookup, Ryan Baker, signed up for the C class, riding a Kawasaki KDX220. We shared row 32, expecting the 100 riders or so ahead of us to have adequately cleared out the trails. When our row was released into the woods, we were rewarded with the cleared out trails we'd hoped for, but the course was its usual mix of sand, whoops, undergrowth and more sand.
The initial 8.5 mile test section wound itself through the old grass airstrip area next to a nudist camp. We would not see any skin on the trails, but I did notice Ryan's riding skills weren't going to keep him a C class rider for long. His choice of race bike was perfect for the narrow, twisty trails and he piloted the KDX with raw speed. Once his riding style was refined, Ryan would eventually make quick work of the C class and move up.
After the 8.5 mile test, a long reset allowed us to add a splash of fuel and exit the staging area for the paved roads leading to the next woods section. These test sections linked together a series of familiar trails leading to a checkpoint which began a long 20-mile all-woods marathon. I caught up to a fast guy in the row ahead and used every ounce of concentration to match his pace. Eventually I hit a tree and crashed in the soft, loamy dirt. The tree was small but lodged itself between the rear wheel and the side panel. A frustrating minute passed while I dragged the bike away from the tree and lifted it back on two wheels.
Momentum restored, I cruised through the remaining miles of this section, made up of narrow trails and loose "sugar" sand. The club challenged us with a log approximately 3 feet in diameter, strategically placed where all riders were forced to ride over it. Ryan and I both agreed it was the largest log we'd ever been made to cross.
Another long reset came at the halfway point, and it was there I noticed my mechanical odometer had quit working. Thanks to a boneheaded oversight, the cable had flopped loose against the wheel and stretched itself out of the odometer drive. I had neglected to strap the cable to the fork. At that point the damage to my race was minor, as the most significant timekeeping sections were done, and the club had posted numerous mileage signs where I could keep a handle on timekeeping.
The final test section was a repeat of the first, and I finished without incident. My final score was 61, my best ever. My score was tied with another rider in my class, but I beat him on tiebreakers and received a respectable 6th place in Open B, out of 22 competitors in the class. Ryan Baker did well in the C-class, despite bruising his foot, and finished in 3rd place with a score of 74. With only a couple years of racing experience, he was also satisfied with his result. I was further encouraged that I'd avoided any more aches and pains from Roselawn, and made the long drive home to St. Louis with only an ibuprofen or two for company.
