A Season for Celebration: Why I Love Races Like Golden Rush.

Every year, come midwinter, something strange happens in my brain: I forget all the hard things I did last summer. No, that’s not quite right. Forget is the wrong word. It’s more like a reframing. I forget that I once, possibly multiple times in the course of a season—after many hours in the saddle, in all weather conditions—swore I’d never do another bike race and my thoughts turn to the fun times: singletrack, catching up with friends, beers in the sun, camping, campfires, road trips, etc. 

Now, I’m a mountain biker, and having been around races and big rides for many years, I know I’m not alone in this way of thinking. Those who have had the privilege of really testing themselves will, I’m sure, have gone through or will go through something similar. At least the rational ones.

Nowhere is this brain shift from disgust to nostalgia more evident than in long races—not necessarily the longest (I’ve never done a 24-hour race and hope I never will), but the ones that still really hurt. Some would call them ultra-endurance. Some would even go so far as to call them “Enduros” (I'm looking at you, Salty Dog, though legends can call themselves whatever they want in my book). All the same, only those of a certain age, like myself, would dare describe a race where Lycra is so front and centre as an Enduro. But I digress, so let me just cut to the chase: when I say long, I’m talking your 6-, 8-, 12-hour—solidly in the realm of type-two fun—mountain bike races, like Golden Rush.

As I said, this change in my brain takes place around midwinter each year, which also just happens to be, roughly, the time race signup emails start appearing in my inbox. Though, could it also be that my brain is just allowing me start to acknowledge them again? Either way, perfect. Because the things that make long, single-day events like the Golden Rush incredible deserve to be top of mind. And there are many.

Of course, the masochists out there will relish the suffering. And with race lengths longer than the average workday, there’s certainly enough of it to go around. But that’s not why I’m looking forward to Golden Rush 2025. For me, it’s the trails, the community and the atmosphere.

The road to happiness isn’t paved at all!

I’m going to go ahead and assume that for most mountain bikers, excellent singletrack is a priority when choosing a race. Especially if you’re going to be on it for hours and hours at a time. A poor racecourse can leave you in agony, suffering through every minute and every rock, root, and incline. On the other hand, exciting trails keep you in the zone, whooping on the descents and thinking only about the next fun move or gaining on your competition—whether real or imagined. 

Luckily, Golden Rush is more the whooping kind of singletrack that makes time seem to disappear. Located on the lower slopes of the legendary Mount 7 and part of the Mountain Shadows network, this course will have you feeling like you’re out for a rip with friends—a few hundred of your closest, in this case. And that’s good news because friends are a special part of the experience.

Teamwork makes the dream work. 😬

Like me, if you’re not one to get excited about riding 8 hours straight, let alone 12, you’re in luck. Both categories offer the option to ride as a team. Whether you choose to alternate laps, separate the race into halves and each ride one, or any other combination of distance or time, few things compare to being out on the trails like this racing with a friend. My most memorable races are those I’ve been lucky enough to share with a teammate. Strong connections are formed in the heat of battle and in sharing the load and suffering that come with it.

No matter how seriously you choose to take your race, joining forces with another is sure to bring out the best in both of you on race day. Not to mention, you have another excuse to hang out, plan your logistics and strategy before the race, and celebrate afterward (no matter how you place). This is the perfect segue into another reason I love these races: the atmosphere.

1 part prime singletrack + 1 part friends = 2 parts epic weekend.

If there’s one thing single-day, lap-based races like Golden Rush have over other mountain bike races, it’s the vibe. There’s nothing quite like it, and if you’ve never done a race like this before, it's an amazing experience. That’s because the start, finish line, feed zone, and team handoff are all in the same place, allowing for a small tent village to take shape. Maintenance is being performed on the fly, bikes are being washed and admired, beers are being drunk, tall tales are being told and backs are being slapped. And somewhere in there, bikes are even being raced. But the fun doesn’t end there. 

Unlike multiday events where racers flee the finish area to eat, rest, and otherwise prepare for the next day’s stage, Golden Rush is one-and-done, freeing us all from the tyranny of another too-quickly approaching prerace routine. And it shows. At the foot of the infamous Mount 7, racers have the option to camp not far from the start/finish and continue their celebrations well into the evening, visiting old and new friends, planning future races and rides, or gathering around the fire at ChillVille for a well-earned beer. 

Let the good times roll.

Amazing singletrack, friends, and good times. These are things I remember when I’m staring out the window at the snow and cold, and race season is but a distant memory. Of course, logically, I know there was always a bit of pain, maybe even some suffering, but those things have their advantages too. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? Sure. 

Those who study this stuff would probably tell you there are evolutionary advantages to our minds suppressing the tough times and emphasizing the good. All I can say is that it seems to do the trick for me. What pain? What suffering? Right now, as I look out the window at the cold and snow, all I’m thinking about are the good times. Sign me up!