The Cat and Mouse of Pre-Running in Baja: Robby’s Racing Chronicles
Back in the later 2000’s, while I was racing for American Honda, there was a bit of an unspoken game while pre-running for a Baja race. In some ways it was quite silly, but at the base of it was the goal of gaining a mental edge over the competition. And bear in mind, this was still in the era before GPS, Google Earth, and Virtual Check Points (VCP’s), when you really had to ride around to search for lines and had more opportunity to spread off the main course.
This game basically came down to being the first rider out on the trail and the last one off of it. All the more points if you weren’t seen by any other riders at all while pre-running. The goal, just underneath the game itself, was trying to get a mental edge over your competition: if they knew that you were out on the trail before them (by passing your chase truck after you’d already head out on course, for example), and then after they got to their chase truck at the end of whatever section they rode, gearing down or getting a snack, here you (or your chase truck) come by, it might plant a little thought of doubt in their head. This thought could either be that you’re doing more work than them—by being out on the trail longer—or that you’ve found some lines that they don’t know about—because you obviously weren’t on the marked course when they went by.
When I first started riding down in Baja, I remember Steve Hengeveld being a master at this game (whether it was intentional on his part or not). He’d always be the first on the trail, the only evidence being the sight of Tim Gomez (Steve’s chase driver) driving his box van out of a drop-off location or down the highway after seeing Steve off. And then it would be rare to even see Steve for most of the day, or Tim in the box van for that matter, as they’d sometimes pick obscure spots for Tim to pick Steve up.
I also remember the worst feeling while pre-running was being spotted by another rider while out on the trail. For example, if I was cruising, looking at lines while pre-running, and while I was on the course (or even worse, just coming back to it while looking at some kind of line) and a rider rode by and clearly saw me as he was passing. I still remember the feeling of dread in my stomach during those moments. Whether the rider was a direct competitor or not, it felt like a ‘gotcha’ moment, where they surprised me and suddenly knew everything I was up to on the trail.
Again, somewhat silly, but there was this mental one-ups-man-ship just underneath.
So, one particular story of this Cat-and-Mouse pre-run game was a time I was being dropped off just past Ojos Negros—for the 2006 Baja 500, if I remember right—to ride around 40 miles out to highway marker 78, where I’d meet my chase truck to get gas. I’d gotten there pretty early, as we sometimes leave Ensenada a little after 5am to get a jump on the day. As I’m finishing getting geared up, Mikey Childress—who was on the 1X Honda team with Steve Hengeveld, while I was teaming with Kendal Norman on the ‘B’ team—came riding by. He does the quick wave as he rides by, but instantly I could feel some tension build in my body knowing we’d both be on the same section at the same time. I was also still trying to prove myself in Baja, and this could be an opportunity to get a small on-up on my direct competition.
So, I waited a few minutes for Mikey to get out on the trail a good ways ahead, then set out on the course myself. I could faintly make out his fresher tire mark on the trail for a little bit, but it quickly seemed to fade into all of the previous tracks over the next few miles. So, as I’m riding down the course, I start to get the feeling that I’m the lead bike on the trail. I decide to act on that feeling and tip-toe off the main course, then ride off the trail a little ways to hide in some trees and bushes, well out of sight. Sure enough, a couple minutes later, here comes Mikey riding down the course. It was game on.
After waiting a few minutes to give him a gap, I set out again, riding for another 15 minutes or so before I came to a section where the course kind of split for a few miles. There were a couple different options: one was staying far left, where there was a bit rougher, siltier section of course; the second was staying right in more of a sand wash, which split into a few options as well. I got the same feeling that I wasn’t behind Mikey once more and decided to pull off again. Like clockwork, here comes Childress a few minutes later. I was curious which line he would take, and remember thinking it was odd that he stayed left, as that line sucked.
(At the risk of being overly neurotic about it, he was probably taking the worse line in case I was watching, so I’d think ‘why is he taking that line’, while he’d know ‘this ain’t my real line!’ Again, somewhat silly, but any mental edge is welcome with the high stakes racing in Baja.)
After riding further down the course, within five miles of the highway, I pulled off and hid once more. And after waiting a couple minutes, what d’ya know?, here comes ol’ Childress cruising down the course. I waited for the dust to settle, then a couple more minutes for good measure, before getting back on the track. At this point, I remember thinking, ‘oh I got him, we’re so close to the highway, there’s no way he’s pulling off again.’
So, I finish my section, get to my dad and start joking with him about the cat and mouse game with Mikey while I was getting a snack and some gas. I had a tone of victory while I was telling the story, as I start to hear a bike coming up the highway. I didn’t think anything of it other than wondering who the next rider on trial was going to be. So, I glanced to look at who it was, and to my horror, it was Mikey (bleepin’) Childress. I swear, he must have stopped right before the highway to hide, just to make sure I would beat him out, and I’m positive he was smirking at me as I rode by oblivious that he’d ‘won’ the game.
It was at that moment I decided how silly the game was (or at least the way I had played it). I’d just ridden 40 miles of racecourse and not actually looked for lines or mentally logged in anything I just rode because I was too worried about getting a ‘one-up’ on Mikey. So, for the next section I just focused on myself and what I needed to get out of it. I don’t even remember if Mikey, or I, was the last one off the trail after the next section (it was probably Mikey again, though). And as much as I can say the pre-run game didn’t really matter—and in the grand scheme of the race that year, it didn’t—I have to admit I rode with my tail a little between my legs the rest of that day because I didn’t win the gosh darn pre-run game.
Robby Bell
