The North American Enduro Cup (NAEC) is, in my opinion, the premier enduro event in North America, featuring a full two days of racing, fresh-cut stages, and a wide variety of terrain that attracts the top talent from all over the U.S. (and internationally) to the small town of Kellogg, Idaho. For the second year in a row, this race also doubled as the U.S. National Championship for enduro.

Once again, NAEC fell right in the middle of my larger BC/PNW trip, and this time, was just a week after BC Bike Race. True to form, I chose to take advantage of being in this part of the continent and ride as many trails with as many friends as possible in between events rather than truly resting or recovering as much as my body likely required. I did two days of riding in Bellingham, a short post-work lap in Squamish, and then an e-bike rip on the North Shore before driving out to Kellogg for NAEC–all #worthit.

NAEC is a huge weekend on bikes, which is part of why I love this event so much. Nowhere else do you get >29,000 feet of descending in three days (one day of practice, two days of racing), and the opportunity to race such a wide variety of trails–from epic fresh cut loamers to bike park DH tracks.

In comparison to last year, I felt really confident after pre-riding. The drop on stage two was the only thing I was afraid to commit to–mostly because it was bigger than any drop I’ve ridden previously, and adjusting the speed appropriately to not overshoot the landing seemed challenging. But otherwise, I loved riding all of the steep loamers, even if I wasn’t sure what “racing” those trails would look like.

Though I often say it as a joke, I do think the phrase #spiritofenduro encompasses everything that is these big days of riding and racing varied terrain: the management of bikes and bodies to to get through an epic three days of racing, the laughing and joking with friends as you push your bikes uphill through gnarly rock gardens, the team effort of repairing mechanicals or flats, the breathless recounting of a stage at the bottom, and so much more. More than anything, its the riding with your friends all day–which is exactly what I got to do at NAEC this year (shoutout to Eddie & Emily for being such a great crew to ride with this weekend!).

This weekend, Day 1, Stage 1 started with an all-new #spiritofenduro experience for me: an “aggressive moose hold.” Just before we dropped in, the course marshalls got word of an “aggressive moose” on course, and paused the race. We went from being hot and sweaty from the climb up to doing random dance moves and plyometrics to try and stay warm during the ~45 minute hold before actually dropping into stage 1. First lesson learned: carry dry gloves (or climb without gloves?) so that your sweaty hands don’t get too cold to function. I struggled on stage 1, mostly due to not being able to manage my shifter lever or dropper post with my cold, non-functioning hands, and generally just feeling very stiff and un-coordinated on the bike. But it was clean, something I perhaps took a bit too much for granted.

Stage 2 was the short bike park stage that had the big drop in it. After warming my hands during the gondola ride back to the top, I still didn’t feel brave enough to hit the drop for the first time during my race run, so planned to take the B line. I did, and also hit all of my other planned lines on the trail–until I lost the front end in a high-speed corner and crashed hard–right on my already-injured knee. Despite having a brace for my knee, I had opted to race without it, due to the difficulty the brace caused in getting that leg into my pedal while riding. I immediately regretted that decision, as I untwisted my bars and painfully made my way down the last bit of the stage. The crash hurt, but I think it scared me more than anything–the fear of injuring my knee more than it already is shook me.

After climbing up to stage 3, I dropped in and felt way out of sorts and off balance on the bike. I talked to myself nearly the entire way down the stage, trying to coax my body into somehow finding the fluidity and stability that was missing. I was just starting to find my flow again when I clipped a pedal going into the steepest and loosest chute on the stage–and scared myself all over again. It took me several minutes at the bottom of the stage to collect myself and slow my breathing. I was scared of getting hurt, mad at crashing again, and disappointed that I felt like I didn’t know how to ride a bike–on one of the stages I had loved the most during pre-ride.

The transfer to stage 4 was all descending, so we cruised down to the start, then dropped in. I started slow, still nervous from crashing on the previous two stages, but eventually relaxed and managed to have a blast ripping down yet another loamer. I hit all of my lines, remembered to slow up for the two tight corners we’d noted during pre-ride, and was stoked to get through an entire stage at pace and upright.

On the last stage of the day, I finally dropped in with confidence–and all was good until it wasn’t. About two-thirds of the way down the trail was “the left:” a corner that was so blown out and caught so many riders out that it became known as “the left corner.” I (like almost everyone else I talked to) went down, twisted my bars, and had to spend way too long wrestling them back around. In the end, I was disappointed and frustrated at failing to show up and ride like I knew I could. This was not my best work.

For day two, I wanted to start fresh. We climbed up to stage 6, which started by dropping through a rut in a snow pile, and I dropped in, excited and ready for a long stage that featured a mix of fresh cut, steep loamers and bike park trails. I cleaned the snow pile, rode cleanly through the bike park bits, and dropped into the loamer feeling really good. Near the bottom, I mis-judged the support in a corner and crashed yet again. I picked myself up as quickly as possible, then finished out the stage–feeling good about how I had ridden (despite the crash).

Then it started snowing. On the transfer up to the final stage of the day, it snowed/sleeted on us, and in true #spiritofenduro style, we put our jackets on, started singing Christmas carols, and did our best to stay positive–all while getting increasingly wet and cold. At the top, nearly all of the pro women huddled in the bathrooms to try and dry our goggles and warm up just a bit. Stage 8 was a top-to-bottom stage through the bike park, which, last year, challenged my fitness and upper body strength. This year, I made it through the stage still feeling strong, but was challenged by not being able to feel my hands at all thanks to the cold (lesson #2: bring a third pair of dry gloves for when you get snowed on during the second transfer of the day?). Despite struggling with not being able to feel my hands (or brakes or dropper lever or shifter), I was hopping over the wet roots and managing it decently–until I tagged a wet root with my front tire mid-hop and went down yet again, knocking my brake lever out of position. After finally managing to wrestle it back into place, I decided I was just going to chill and ride for fun, and so “party-lapped” the remainder of the stage.

It wasn’t my weekend (at all), but still, I’m stoked. I had a great time riding with friends, I got to ride some truly incredible trails, and I (kind of decently) worked through my fear after that first hard crash on stage two. I’m leaving the weekend disappointed in my performance, but also stoked for progression and to come back next year!