Grewal Never Looked Back
Canmore, Alberta, Canada: July 17-19, 1999
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Led by John Stamstad (Chevy) and Rishi Grewal (Klein), 40 of the top endurance athletes came from around the world to take part in the first world solo championships. With the threat of bad weather and extreme trail conditions, the odds makers put John Stamstad as the favorite.

However, after mid–pack, 600 meters, and a La Mann's 4 km prologue that rolled into lap one, Rishi Grewal lead the entire race. Grewal not only led the best soloist in the world, he passed the entire team division. He powered to the lead by setting a beyond human pace—I figured 18 maybe 20 hours would be his limit. And I thought that along with the many fervid racers who worked to stay with the alien, the more guys chasing Rishi the better.

"The course was falling apart: soils and organic matter became sponges with the consistency of peanut butter and baby excrement...."

To be successful in Canmore, athletes need patience and experience. This course has both power climbs and consistent, technical singletrack. Basically, it's an easy area to go out hard and blow up fast. My plan of action was simple: don't get sucked into anyone's game, stay present, and ride within myself. I think the scenario of choice would include Hades weather, knowing everyone would anguish under a deluge of rain, maneuvering through bottomless mud holes, power walking, slick roots, and exposed trails for 18 hours gave me hope.

The bad weather would definitely play in my favor. Yeah, sure, the mass of solo talent had strength, but how many would remain mentally sharp and physically ready for five hours of hard rain? From the start, many other soloists and I prayed to the goddess of meteorology for foul weather, anything to slow Rishi down. While Rishi and company were in front pounding the course, the wily foxes played the waiting game. We watched youthful energy drain from experienced legs. While, together, John and I waited for the power course to take its toll, patiently looking forward to the inevitable foul weather.

Rishi Grewal

Just before dark sheets of wind driven rain wreaked havoc and the rumble of thunder and the crack of lightning could be felt on the upper mountain. The rain came down, mud built up, darkness set in, attitudes started changing, and little cracks in the armor began to appear. The leaders started slowing down: Mike Madden, Steve Fassbinder and Greg Blackwell all became glued to the lawn chair. Matt Ohran (Cannondale) and I continued to put pressure on fourth place: Bernard Hug (Cannondale) while Chris Scott (Gary Fisher) continued to surprise us all by keeping the pace up on Rishi and pulling away from Stamstad.

The patience game began to pay off. The harder it rained: the more bodies accumulated on pit row. The foul weather lifted my spirits, 'this would not be an easy race,' I thought. The course was falling apart: soils and organic matter became sponges with the consistency of peanut butter and baby excrement. Mike Curiak (Marin) summed it up best, "if I was one degree off on my line, I would loose momentum and walk." And power walk we did.

"I strapped latex dishwashing gloves and plastic bags on my feet to help keep warm and called upon my Alaskan philosophy, 'don't worry about staying dry, just keep moving to stay warm' to help me to brave the extremes...."

The night riding became our total focus. The cool, moist air plummeted temperatures into the mid 30s. I strapped latex dishwashing gloves and plastic bags on my feet to help keep warm and called upon my Alaskan philosophy, 'don't worry about staying dry, just keep moving to stay warm' to help me to brave the extremes. I knew this would be a great plan as long as there was a plethora of food and drink passing my lips—not an easy goal to achieve on a slick, muddy, power course like this.

The course became insane. Carrying speed through standing water evolved into an exercise in mental recall: 'Was the rock on the left or the right?' Not the best question to be asking oneself in the dark, at 25 mph, with mud–clogged eyes, while trying to clean a handlebar light. I was in the grin and bear it mode; I put my head down, sucked down my fireball gels, and drank large quantities of XL–1 energy drink, with the hopes of getting through this suffer–fest.

In pit row, the rain split the world championships into two races: the athletes' race and the mechanics' race. The top mechanics had less than two hours to clean, overhaul, and tune–up the rides before athletes returned to the pits. At the end of each lap, I would hand off a bike that would not stay in a gear—due to the 10 pounds of crusted mud clogging all the drive parts—to Super Dave Dewbrey who was waiting to trade me a clean Dumonde Tech lubricated WTB bike. Dave was pulling double duties wrenching for both me and Brett Wolf (Voodoo). Dave Theist changed break pads and shifted cables every lap for Stamstad. Matt Ohran's (Cannondale) mechanic Steve kept the pressure on me by keeping Matt just ahead on a clean bike. Tammy Jacques totally out–styled the pit crews with her hot pink rubber boots and did whatever it took to keep Rishi on his bike. The pit area became a paradox of intense competition mixed with encouraging comradeship, where the mechanics did whatever they could to keep us athletes on the course. The world championships were as much about wrenching as they were about riding.

Kathy Burns

Out on the course, Chloe Lanthier (Rocky Mountain) was showing her strength to the formidable competition of Katie Lindquist and Monica Nelson. The media pumped up the Chloe vs. Amy Ragen–Axelson (Kona) competition and the crowd looked forward to a great battle. Unfortunately, Amy totally bombed which left Katie and Monica to rise above the pressure and keep the race from becoming another all–Chloe day. Chloe didn't seem to mind and stated: "The night was intense, trying to stay warm and get enough to eat here was as challenging as anything in the Alaska races, I felt totally focused and emotionally fulfilled."

Back on the men's course, my suffer–fest continued. I hear, "Hey, on your right, bud." I figured it has to be another impatient team rider trying to pass me on the gnarliest section of the course, but no, it's Rishi. He is jacked–up and trying hard to make a point of dropping me, so I play along, 'let me see what he has left.'

"Hey bud on the same side," throwing it right back as I cut his line. Ah, competition at hour 18. We spun along in hyperventilated silence. I figured if I could hang with the alien long enough to reel in Matt Ohran, then maybe, just maybe, I could stand atop the podium.

With five hours remaining I definitely need to stick with the alien as time was running out. Bernard has folded; fourth place was between myself and Matt. Riding with Rishi paid off, Matt is just ahead. Time to play casually—like I'm out for a Sunday ride, no big deal. Yeah right. But, Matt is pissed; Rishi is tired of my company and the pace is killing me, but I need to look cool while I work on getting inside Matt's head.

Chris Scott

Two hours to go and Rishi has locked up first place. He looked good, but later said, "from 11pm until 2am was sheer hell, I didn't feel good and the trail conditions were savage." The surprise of the race was Chris Scott's one lap up on Stamstad! However, the big unknown was still fourth place. Matt is six minutes ahead and looking over his shoulder. "Matt does not want to go out for another lap," Dave said, "so time it just right for one more." The past three hours were spent doggedly chasing Matt and staying painfully close to Rishi. I was running out of steam, even sucking down fireball wasn't working.

The late morning sun began to dry the peanut butter like mud. My tires were holding onto the thick stuff and slowing me down; my body was going into a tail spin and I was trying hard to pull my mind down with it. I was zoning out big time. If not for Brett Wolfe hopping up a particularly steep hill, I think lap 16 would have been my last lap. Brett once again inspiring. I knew the rain had dealt him some bad cards, but I had no idea what a physical feat it was to hop one–legged while pushing a bike up these steep power climbs. I was choking with emotion to see Brett in action, knowing how close he had come to throwing in the towel just two hours earlier. Brett inspired me to suck it up, get back in the game and focus on Matt.

11:45am: Matt is out on his last lap with a 20 minute lead, basically untouchable. The sun was out and the last lap was for Dave.

—Pat Norwil, MountainZone.com correspondent