BMX Basics

Those of you who are looking to learn about writing could do far worse than to study the work of Jeff Cooper. Although Cooper is now past eighty years old, he has become, if anything, sharper and more perceptive with age. If only the same could be said, dear reader, about yours truly... One of my favorite "Cooper-isms" concerns his relation of an incident from his college days. Cooper's fraternity brothers were discussing some troublesome squirrels who, apparently, would hide in the back yard and attack the young ladies who came to visit the fraternity house. Upon hearing of the matter, young Jeff said something to the effect of "If someone would give me a .22, I could take care of this."

Much to his surprise, Cooper was then handed a rusty, unsighted .22 rifle that one of the "brothers" had found in the basement. With the eyes of his fellows upon him, and never having fired the rifle before, Cooper promptly head-shot a few of the squirrels at fifty or so yards, which I can tell you from experience is no easy thing. Sixty years later, Cooper wrote, "I still recall the incident with complete satisfaction." A wonderful thing, to have such a memory. Last weekend ago, I completed a moto of the Dayton Indoor BMX Track that, I think, will last in my memory as one of the better laps I have taken - and, given the circumstances, perhaps the best, one that I, too, will look back on with complete satisfaction.

The ride in question was not a dramatic victory. I have had those, perhaps most interestingly a race years ago when, in order to take first for the day, I had to both win the third moto and ensure that another rider got dead last, a task I accomplished by jamming out of the gate, passing six of my seven fellow riders, and pimping the necessary victim right off the side of a straightaway before cruising to first. In fact, it wasn't a victory at all. I took second place out of three riders. The rider I beat had never raced BMX before this day. How then, could I possibly be proud of this race? Why would I bother to share it will all of you? Come with me and find out...

My competition that day in the Cruiser class consisted of 17X Randy Stamper and a twenty-six-year old rookie rider, referred to hereafter as New Guy. Looking at the moto sheet, I knew beyond doubt that I could not beat Stamper - he's just too fast, and his gate is too strong. Occasionally, at outdoor tracks, I can nip at his heels a bit, but in the short, jump-filled indoor setting, there would be no chance.

New Guy, on the other hand, was a completely unknown quanitity. I spoke with him a bit prior to the race and found out that he was a veteran road racer and mountain biker. Although we were close to the same height, he probably weighed in at 180lbs. to my 250, and it was plain that he was extremely fit. He was trying BMX primarily out of curiosity, to see if he could do as well in this sport as he had in others. I pegged him in my mind as someone who might, after learning a little bit about riding, might be a threat - but not that day, my friends, certainly not.

When the gate dropped in the first moto, I was treated to a real surprise. New Guy took a picture-perfect gate, pulled up and manualled the first set of doubles, and then proceeded to cut under me in the first turn and steal my blankety-blank line! He then used his light weight and tremendous fitness to just pedal away from me.

I crossed the finish line in a state of complete depression. Was this what my riding career had come to, providing the moto filler in a moto of three? Was my lack of fitness and poor gate going to make me the laughingstock for an entire indoor season? True, this guy was no chump - he'd been winning bicycle races for a long time - but why couldn't I beat him? I knew that my state of mind - expecting to take an easy second behind the unbeatable Stamper and ahead of this silly, mountain-bike-helmet-wearing newbie - had contributed heavily to my defeat, but could I, in fact, do any better, particularly now that New Guy would have the advantage of confidence in the second moto? I spent the next hour deep in thought and self-recrimination before rolling off for staging.

What did I have that could beat this kid? (I know, he's twenty-six, but I'm twenty-nine.) Although I was much stronger than he was, he was much lighter - and he didn't get tired. His gate was excellent. The first-straight doubles that make fools of most older cruiser riders, and provide me an opportunity to pull ahead, posed no problem for him. I couldn't afford to get in a drag race with him - his acceleration was too good. Nor was he an idiot when it came to taking corners. I resolved to beat him by physical means, by shoving him hard enough to make him back off, by intimidating him down the straights, by moving forcefully against him in the turns. With that mindset, and prepared to pull out my fifteen-year-old bag of dirty tricks, I settled into the the gate for the second moto.

At this point, if you were watching a movie, we'd go into slow motion, so you could see with precise detail everything that happened. To mimic this effect, I will "slow down" the narrative a bit...

Riders ready.
Watch the lights.
He's slightly ahead.
Throw one extra pedal in as I pull up to roll the doubles. A little unsteady, but now we're even.
Manual the step - don't jump it. Now I'm a wheel ahead, and I have the inside line.
He's taking the high, berm-railing line. I'll make the turn late. Ride up all the way to the top of the berm. There he is, moving faster than me.
Contact, my stomach with his bars. Flex my knees to stay low and steady. He's wobbling. Shove my body forward to seal the deal and close line. Now I'm in front.
First set of triples. Jump two of three. Cross-up to the left. I can relax now.
Pedal hard and pop-up jump two of the next three, about twelve feet. Nose-dive cross-up. This race is done. Heck, I'm not that far behind young Stamper!
I hear someone yelling at me. "He's passing you!"
There he is, manualling the second set of triples, passing on the right.
Two hard pedals and a pump down the backside and I'm slightly in front.
Last turn. Take the safe line. I am one-half-bike ahead.
He is railing the last turn, attempting to force the same kind of contact.
But it isn't safe this time. There's a wall on the outside of the turn. If I block him again, I will put him in the brick wall.
I can't do it.
End of turn. He jams his bars into mine. If I move in response, he will hit the wall. Why doesn't he know this? Easy - he's never raced before. He has to assume I will move over, because that's what a roadie would do. A roadie would never put him in the wall and hurt him.
Should I?
If it were one of my long-time competitors, I would punish him for being stupid. Were I still fifteen years old, I would do it for the fun.
Not anymore. I bunnyhop six inches sideways, pulling up and away to free our entangled bars.
Now we have a rhythm section with a finish line at the end, and we are dead even.
He's choosing to manual. I will choose to pump.
Pump one. A little faster.
Another. Pulling away.
Next. The bike is starting to complain at being asked to follow the ground this closely, bucking around and tossing its rear wheel from side to side.
Next. I have a full bike on him now.
Second to last, pull hard to maintain speed and control of the bike.
Pump the last one.
Cross the finish line in a fast-rolling nose-wheelie, chest on the crossbar. Second place.

He didn't show up for the third moto - why, I don't know. I rode for fun, pulling a small table over the second set of triples when Stamper pulled a huge one. Took my second-place trophy. Went home, happy as a clam.

Why did I win, so to speak? I was older, slower, heavier, and low on confidence. By all rights, he should have beaten me as thoroughly as he did in the first moto. Here's why he didn't:

• Knowledge: I knew which lines to take and was able to make decisions on the fly.
• Physical riding: I wasn't afraid to make contact in the first corner and negate his speed advantage.
• Stupidity: I shouldn't have wasted time showing off down the second straight. Don't ever think you've beaten a rider until you beat them across the line. However, I did keep my eyes and ears open, even while I was jumping. I'm not that stupid.
• Judgement: I chose not to hurt him in the last turn. Why? It was a local race with nothing on the line, and a new rider who might never come back if I had hurt him. Don't always make a strong move just because you can - the results have to be worth it. There's one idiot at our local track who will hit any rider, anywhere, for any reason, whether he's in last or first. Don't be like that guy. Save the hits for when they truly matter, particularly when something like a wall (or other obstacle) is involved.
• Practice of fundamentals: I practiced pump-rolling that last rhythm section. It wasn't as fun, or cool, as practicing high-speed manuals, but when I was out of speed and deadlocked with another rider, it made the difference. Don't limit your practice to the fun stuff and the best-case scenarios. Practice EVERYTHING.
• Thinking on the track. Don't turn your brain off when you take a gate. Keep your eyes open, your ears open, and your mind on full alert. At any given point in any given race, you should be aware of who is around you, what they are likely to do, and what might happen next. If you are experiencing "tunnel vision", you can't do any of the above.
• Low center of gravity and stability. By keeping my knees flexed, I was able to easily survive two corner contacts and a high-speed, both-wheels-flat run down a rhythm section. You are probably not as heavy as I am, but you can be just as stable, if you practice staying low on the bike. You'll be safer over jumps, as well.

Really, it's a comforting idea, that a rider who studies his art can beat other, (physically) faster riders. After all, there's only so much you can do to become stronger, and it you can't do much about the physical attributes you were born with - but you can always improve your racing by expanding your mind.

Jeff Cooper wrote, concerning hunting, "To my mind it is all good, and the more different ways I have enjoyed it, the richer my life has been." Racing, for me, has been the same way, and if I have become older and slower, my appreciation for the sport has grown regardless of my ability to participate in it. May the same be true of you, and may you, also, have truly smart rides, ones that you may look back on "with complete satisfaction."