The weekend adventure kicked off Thursday night as I packed up my gear and pointed my car toward the mountains, eagerly anticipating what was ahead. After work on Friday, I hit the road for the four-hour drive, winding through the iconic landscapes of Lone Pine and Bishop. The destination? Mammoth Mountain RV Park, where the race weekend would begin. Arriving at camp under the cover of nightfall, I was welcomed by my fellow rider and longtime friend, Jonathon. With the tent set up in the dark, we cracked open a couple of cold beers and settled by the fire, exchanging stories and laughs. The crisp mountain air signaled a chilly night ahead, so after some fireside vibes, we called it a night around 10 p.m., ready to tackle whatever the altitude and cold had in store for us. Temperatures dipped into the low 40s, but the mountain air made for some of the best sleep I’ve had in a long time. We were up at 6 a.m., the stars still out, and prepped our coffee like pros while mentally preparing for the day. Kitted up, fueled by breakfast, and buzzing with anticipation, we rolled over to the Village, where the race start line awaited. At 8:20 a.m., it was game on! The race kicked off hard, with the first few miles flying by on pavement. My legs felt strong as I surged ahead of the pack, maneuvering into position before hitting the left-hand turn onto the fire roads. And man, what a view! It was hard to focus with the jaw-dropping scenery all around. The rugged peaks and wide-open wilderness had me constantly tempted to hit pause just to take it all in. Most of the day, I rode solo, occasionally yo-yoing with a group of equally strong riders. We exchanged nods as we pushed through the toughest sections. A quick pit stop at the aid station for the essentials, and I was back in the race, chasing down the finish line. The final stretch was no joke – 4-6 miles of deep, sandy, rutted terrain that tested every ounce of my bike handling. It was the most challenging part of the course, but once I pushed through, the smooth road reappeared, and the uphill grind toward the finish line began. Crossing that line? Pure satisfaction. Post-race, I reconnected with old friends and finally got to meet some fellow riders I’d only known through social media. The camaraderie was real. After a well-deserved shower, we hit the town for celebratory beers and food. The night ended, as all good race weekends should, around a roaring campfire. Sunday brought a more relaxed vibe – a mini sleep-in, camp packed up, and a recovery ride in the Alabama Hills. Honestly, the views there might’ve even beaten Mammoth’s! It was impossible to resist stopping every five minutes to snap photos. Big kudos to the Mammoth Tuff team for throwing down an unforgettable, safe race. Already looking forward to next year’s adventure. See you at the start line!