It was the summer of 2000. We had lived through the big Y2K scare and a new programme called "Survivor" was introducing the world to the plague know as "Reality Television."

I had moved back home after graduating from university the previous year and was looking forward to a couple of months of rest and relaxation. My buddy Rob was in a similar situation and also living at home. I had introduced him to the sport of mountain biking the year before and he loved it, so this summer he suggested that we enter the Wednesday Night Race Series at Hardwood Hills. I have been riding mountain bikes since I was in elementary school but I had never entered a race. I'm not really sure why this was the case, but here was the perfect opportunity to give it a try.

The first race was a pretty harrowing experience. It was a mass start with all age groups and both genders pedaling like mad to get to the singletrack first, as once there, it was very difficult to pass. Each racer could chose their preferred course. They ranged from "Fun" with hardly any singletrack to "Radical" with very technical riding with sections I would have to walk. Rob and I chose to race "Gnarly" which was the medium choice and we could both ride it pretty cleanly.

We raced nearly every week that summer and my times improved steadily, but so did everyone else's. It was always the same fourteen year old who weighted 120 pounds that won every time. That didn't really matter to Rob and I as we were basically just racing against one another. Unfortunately I wasn't faring so well in that category either. As the summer drew to a close, I had yet to cross the finish line before Rob.

My ego was bolstered a little by the fact that he was riding a brand new Rocky Mountain dual suspension, while I was on my seven year old rigid KHS. In fact as I glanced at all the bikes around me at the starting line, I saw that mine was the only one without a suspension fork. I never told him this of course, but equipment aside, I think Rob was just the stronger rider.

That brings us to the second last race of the year. I was riding through the last singletrack section of the course when I saw Rob up ahead. There was one racer in between us so he didn't know that I was there. The end of the course featured a short steep uphill, followed by a fast long downhill to the finish line. As I reached the crest of the hill, I threw my chain on to the big ring, got into a somewhat aerodynamic position and pedaled like crazy. I was halfway down the hill when I passed the rider who was in between us and I was quickly gaining on Rob. The ground flattened just before the finish line, but I was still carrying plenty of momentum and I didn't let up on the pedals. When I got up beside Rob I knew it was a forgone conclusion and I had the luxury of sitting up on the bike and giving him a friendly wave. The surprised look on his face was priceless, as I flew by and crossed the finish line ahead of him to the silence of a small and rather indifferent crowd.

Rob is a very competitive person who doesn't like to lose. It didn't matter that he had beaten me in all of the previous races. He didn't say too much, but I knew that he was thinking about it and was annoyed at himself that not only did I beat him but I did it right at the finish line.

On the drive home form Hardwood that evening I was doing some thinking of my own, and hatched what I thought was a pretty good little practical joke. I was talking to Rob a few days later and told him that unfortunately I would not be able to go to the race on Wednesday as I had a family engagement to attend. This was going to be the last race of the year and Rob's only chance to redeem himself after my improbable victory. I knew he wouldn't be very happy.

In the end, I did race in the last event of the season and this time Rob was the victor and I was the vanquished. He was even a good sport about the ruse that I had played on him, but I think this may have been in part due to that fact that he won.

I had a lot of fun that summer. (I didn't even mention racing in a thunder storm where the singletrack turned into raging rivers.) Racing is not my favourite type of riding, but it made me a stronger rider and I'm glad I tried it. What made it fun I think, was not taking it too seriously and having someone to share in the laughs.