Frank Gao, G 11 高熙恒

June in Guangdong was unusually hot yet unexpectedly rainy, with intermittent downpours hitting without warning. But that didn’t stop me from showing up for the 2025 “Ferui Cup” Mountain Bike Enduro. My mission? Conquer the mountain trail.

On June 22, just before the final, heavy rain fell again. When the starting gun fired, my teammates and I shot off without hesitation.

Rain clattered against my goggles, constantly clouding my vision. The track lay submerged in a thick, sludgy mess. Every hard pedal stroke made my wheels slip; now and then puddles gurgled as they stirred up the muck. I kept my focus: “Go steady, climb with all your might,” saving time for the downhill challenge ahead. At 7 minutes 40 seconds I reached the mountaintop checkpoint first — a quiet surge of pride washed over me.

Dry downhills always feel like flying at top speed, but today’s descent would stay with me. The rain had mostly eased, and with mud flying everywhere, all I could hear was my own rapid, ragged breathing. Steep slopes, sharp turns and thick mud — sticky muck coated the bike, making the tires spin uselessly and slip out of control. Each turn felt like a risky bet.

The crash came suddenly: my wheels skidded, the bike slammed down, then bounced and slid three meters down the slope away from me. Blood from my hands and waist mixed with mud, trickling down my body.

I scrambled down to drag the bike back, and despair hit as I remounted — my rear brake lever was snapped, and I was still 100 meters above the bottom. After a minute of hopelessness, I pulled myself together. “I have to finish this race,” I told myself.

On the steepest sections I walked, hauling the bike down step by step. When tree roots trapped the bike, I climbed back up, adjusted its angle, and pushed on. Reaching a gentler slope, I got back on, using body weight and the front brake to steady my balance and control my speed. Spurring myself, I sprinted as hard as I could — then finally I saw the finish arch.

I wasn’t the only one caked in mud — every rider around me had fought through the same hardship. We measured every meter of the track, completed our “mud battle” ride, and embraced the cycling motto: no compromise.