Max St. Pierre

MEMOIR

To you I owe my strengths, to you I owe my patience, to you I owe my suffer.

My bike and I have a very love hate relationship, both of which I love. Bow while that might sound very confusing it makes absolute perfect sense to me. My bike and I share moments of ultimate triumph, but we also share moments were I tear up and wince in pain. My bike and I are bound for life.

This may seem at least a little bizarre, but I have named my bike, also my legs. I have named my left leg LIGHTENING and my right leg THUNDER. Of course my bike is named THE STORM, and this is because both thunder and lightening drive the storm. Obviously you can pick up on the obsession I carry with my bike, I treat it like a pet, like its living, after all it does have its faults, and its gains. In my opinion every bike has a personality. Every bike you see on the road, whether it be a fixie, a road bike, a mountain bike, an old clunker found in moms garage, every bike tells a story.

The story of storm is one of valor and triumph. It all began the end of freshman year when I out grew my first bike, it was time to buy a new one, I chose the sleek, sexy, matte black Trek 8500. This bike came equipped with full XT and a fox f100 RL, a beautiful fork and splendid componentry.

While I love my bike very much, it is also the source of many pains of mine. When I am at the limit, I am tearing, I am burning all over, my heart is racing pounding out of my chest, I lose feeling in my finger tips, this is when I hate my bike, it brings me these pains, it makes me feel insane, I mean, who puts themselves through this and is not clinically insane, NO ONE. But while here it hurts, at the top after these pains, here is when it becomes all worth it, here is when I yell in joy, here is when I throw a smile across my face, when I summit, when I reach the panicle, when all the pains and insanity ties together, when the endorphins flood my blood stream, here is when I love my bike and the pains are forgotten, here is where I become drunk with joy, I love my bike.

This bike took me three months of hard earned money, working at Cal Adventures teaching sailing to pay for. When I picked this bike up from the show floor at the Missing Link, I was immediately in love, I knew this bike and I would ride to some awesome podium finishes.

Bicycle racing is very important to me. I love racing and during the season that is all I can think about. Through out the year I am dedicated and am a slave to my bike. I spend 10 hours a week over me steed. I ride about 200 miles a week; I burn nearly 10,000 calories a week on my bike. There is no question that I love biking riding and racing, it is woven into almost everyday of my life. Over the last few year that I have been riding and racing, there were a few races that really stood out for me. Some were riddled with mistakes and failure while others were built for me, providing me good results.

San Jose, California, Mt.Hamilton. It was a warm morning, no wind. I was truly excited about this race; I knew it would be fun. I rode the course in the morning, so I could get a feel for it; I knew this course was for me. Everything about this track was exactly what I wanted.

The course, while perfect for my strengths, was pretty bland. The start was a boring one, on the road and we were forced to have a lead out (when a race official leads the group to the course, like the first lap of an auto race.)

An hour later we were lined up and about ready to go.

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...GO

We were off, racing at full speed. Once all seventy of us got to the climb, the race split up. Devin, Taylor and I were off the front, leading the race. As the climb progressed, so did our lead, dropping the rest of the field. As we came around for lap two, I was feeling great; it looked like my competition was too. We hit the climb again and we were all there, not too exciting of a lap. As we came around for lap three, the final lap, somebody bridged up to us. We were now four. When we hit the climb again, the group started to break, the pace was faster and we were all trying to win. Approaching nearer to the top of the climb, I was in the lead, but only by a foot. I looked back to see all three of them were there, and I attacked, lurching forward as hard I could, sprinting. Devin attacked, too, and was right behind me. Through the downhill, I picked up a larger lead, maybe ten feet now. As we came on to the flat part and the last two miles of the course, I was lengthening my lead, pulling away from him. The final turn, and he was sprinting, catching up to me. I looked back and he was right there, I had had no idea. I sprinted as hard I could, pushed as hard I could. I was able to beat him by about five feet, winning the race.

Races that stand out to me are not the ones where I win, they are not always the one that brings me to the podium, they are the ones that I learn the most from. Racing is not all about the victor, it is not all about the spoils, rather about the growth of the sport. From every race something is learned, a new lesson taught, weather that be from failure, or from victory.

Angwin CA:

The interesting thing about this race is that there is no “start” it is a massive group start, every category leaves at once, leaving a chaotic mass that is nearly impossible to control. After the count down was finished the race was off, nearly 300 people racing down a quarter mile stretch of road, all with a common goal, get to the dirt first. I buried myself, I lowered my head and concentrated on breathing, I looked forward and occasionally a quick look back. I had somehow worked my way to the front, stealing the whole shot from the competition.

I was hurting bad, my legs throbbed, my fingers began to go numb, my heart rate was flaring up, a quick look at my hear rate monitor and I was pumping near 200 BPM (beats per minute) maxing out my heart rate and rendering me at my fastest and easiest to fatigue. At this point in the race I noticed the first mistake. I worked too hard in the first three minutes. How will I recover? How long can I hold this? Who is behind me? Which of all these people are my competition? Thoughts raced through my head, I was under immense amounts of pressure. After we worked our way of the starting section and through the first segments of trail we were on the first fire road, here I saw a few people in my category pass me, they had gotten around me. At this point in the race I knew all I could do was stay in it, wait until I get a chance to rest a little then put back on the burners.

After holding off the rest of competitors I got some rest, I started to feel good again. The first decent came at a great time. The decent was laden with rocks, roots protruding from the dry dirt of a sun drenched trail. The decent was hard, light peered between the branches of the trees, the shadows and light spots made it hard to see, I was stuck going down the trail only seeing half of it. This factor of being handicapped made the race that much harder and because I couldn’t see. I ended up hitting a large rock, I was able to keep my bike up and ride away, but I lost my water, the only thing I really needed. From here on I was stuck, riding on what little water I had previously ingested. My race was thrown to the garbage, there was little left for me to do except ride the rest of the race simply to finish.

A lap into my grind I got bored of simply riding, after all I was in a race, I mine as well act like it. I stepped into gear; I moved higher up on my saddle and threw the shifter down, shuddering into a higher gear, forcing my bike to lurch forward as the engines re started. Once again I lowered my head and tried not to pay any attention to my legs, without water it felt like a car without oil, it was a grind to do anything. The smallest hill took toll in my throat; the dust and hot air were dry and painful. I was in another type of grind; I was thirty, hot and miserable. But I wasn’t going to just give up the race. I struggled on every climb, every descent only came sooner. The race was trashed, my ego hurt, my body was destroyed. I had failed my team, all of this in the first five minutes, on the first decent. I was so angry with myself that once finishing the race I simply road to the car, got changed and left, I had no desire to stay after and hang out with friends. I wanted to leave before anybody asked me what happened. I was embarrassed and tired; there was no point for me to stay.

While I had been under the impression that this race was completely blown, I was wrong, my last minute effort had done something I had passed people, I had moved up in the race, despite my lack of a simple necessity, despite my original screw up, I had gotten myself a fourth place medal. I had earned a podium placing, a solid race, and a last minute effort that actually worked.

The best example of this would be the 2007-racing season. In the '06 season, I was slow and never got a good result. I was ashamed of myself, my hopes were not fulfilled and I didn’t like bike racing. But I knew that I could better myself and get fast and do well in the '07 season. I trained harder, ate better, and focused more. I was determined to do better; I was set on the idea that I would race stronger and make it to the winners’ podium. That was my drive I knew I was going to do it.

When the first race of the season came. I was scared, defeat was on my mind. I didn’t know how the other kids had trained, were they faster than me?

I knew my training was to pay off. This was important to me; I set my mind on something and did it. My hard work had paid off. I was determined to race well.

My whole season was lead up to the very climactic, State Championships. This race was not only the biggest, longest, and by far hardest of the six race series, but it was the deciding factor for the overall point’s race. This race was worth double points, making it very important and a stressful experience.

I showed up to the course on Saturday, the race was on Sunday, and I began to look at the conditions. I set up my tent, unloaded the car, and began setting up camp. Upon completion of my living site I went to see who had arrived early and if they wanted to go ride the course just once. I was able to assemble about five of us to go and ride the Boggs Mountain Bike course. The course was super turny, lots of small pitches, lots of riding over pine needles, not exactly preferable because pine needles are slippery and lead to crashes. The start out was nice, an open fire road, fairly flat and long, perfect for me.

Anything that simulated a road was perfect for me, after all I had been training and riding for Tieni Duro, a road racing team the whole year, anytime a mountain simulated a road it was perfect for me, I loved it, my personal stomping ground.

The night before the race, we Barbequed, Peter Libby came with a massive Salmon that I began to feast upon, it was amazing. After my brief bout with food, I went to sleep, preparing myself.

The morning of the race was a blur, everybody was moving so quickly, there is always a lot to do the morning of races but today it was busier than usual.

I went with my team to go warm up on one of the fire roads, we just went up a hill about one mile, we proceeded to go up and down this hill for what seemed like forty five minutes. They say the warm up is the most important part of your race, I took this very seriously. After this brief warm up it was time to line up. State Champs is different, lining up is very methodical here, you can’t just go up and claim your spot, they call you to your place. Here we are waiting, sixty to seventy kids, waiting for our name. Four names went by then mine, because I had such a good season, my accumulated points gave me fifth in the state before that race, allowing me to line up really early.

A few minute’s later and everybody was there, waiting, anticipating the gun, listening, getting ready, legs twitching waiting to lurch forward at full steam….

GO.

All of us were racing down the “road” section, once again; I had worked my way to the front, leading out the group, taking the whole shot, stealing the dirt from the others.

This race I used my wits, I let myself go easy, I lead the race; I could do whatever I wanted. Then, Devin Masterson fly’s by me, I look back, and nobody else is there. Again, we broke off, now just the two of us. We were taking the course like we owned it and had designed it, laying our bikes down in every corner, clearing every technical ascents. We were on fire, and I was in contending for a first or second place finish.

Two laps into our three-lap stretch and I was hurting, the engines were over heating, I needed to call it easy for just a minute. I sat up and rested for a while, I lost Devin, he was gone, and out of sight, there goes first. Then I hear the familiar clicking of a mountain bike hub, the chain rattles and all the noises from a bike accumulated into…he’s gone. Damnit, there I went, losing placing, I needed to start the fire again, I went down, got some water, took a few gulps, and went at full steam. Lap three approached and there I was, catching this guys, the guy who stole my second place, I needed this, but I couldn’t get it, he was too far by now and I didn’t want to invest that much energy in him. Third would have to be satisfactory.

The race came to a finish and I had finished third, not a bad result, but not what I could have had. I was disappointed in myself but I knew that all would be fine. I went to the team tent, ate a lot of food, and then rested, letting myself gain strength. After about a half hour after the race, I got changed and official results were posted, the unnamed rider was twenty seconds in front of me, I could have caught him, I thought he was near a minute it front, but twenty seconds, what the hell was I thinking, why did I ever stop pushing, I could have taken second at State Champs. I was pissed.

After about an hour of eating, I was fine with the result, I gave myself some time to calm down and realized both are respectable. At this point I just waited for the awards ceremony, I wanted to get my medals.

I won my third place medal and now it was time for the overalls, I didn’t know if I was going to get fifth or fourth overall. The anticipation was overwhelming; I just wanted to know, where had ended up.

“And in fourth place overall…Max St. Pierre from Berkeley California”, exclaimed the race coordinator.

I had gotten fourth, I could deal with that. Fourth in all of California isn’t too bad I guess, scrap that, its great, I was so excited.