Chris Eatough retired this year from professional racing and I attended a party last month at the Rumor Mill in downtown Ellicott City that honored his career. The night gave me cause to reflect since he has been a huge mentor and influence in my own racing since I’ve been on the East Coast. Much of my own career owes him a debt of gratitude since I have followed in his footsteps in the niche world of ultra-endurance racing.

 
It isn’t as though he sat me down and whispered secrets to me. Instead, I’ve watched how he rides and competes while training and racing alongside him. And the most general thing I can say about him is that it wasn’t raw power and super-natural talent that made him a great rider; rather, it was a certain finesse that is much more difficult to pin down. He made everything look relatively easy because he flowed through the trails rather than fighting through.

The best way for me to emphasize this is to use an analogy to the NFL (of which, I’ve always been a huge fan). I’ve always thought of Eatough as a sort of Barry Sanders type of athlete. Barry Sanders was one of the greatest running backs of all time because he had patience and finesse that worked around and through the defense. Many running backs fall short of greatness because they attempt to use raw power to shove themselves straight ahead through the defense. And they become impatient and don’t allow the holes to open up before they slam into defenders. Sanders danced around the defense.

And this is how Eatough rode – by using the least amount of energy possible to flow through the terrain rather than trying to shove his bike directly ahead with stubborn power. He had patience, allowing the best lines to present themselves. This was a huge, but tough lesson for me to learn while riding hundreds of hours behind him on technical trail. Over the course of four years, I think I saw him crash maybe 3 times. In contrast, he probably saw me crash well over 100 (or rather, heard the explosion of bike and limbs go down behind him as he pulled away).

The analogy also works well because both athletes were humble and understated, which is something I’ve always looked up to. I've always thought an athlete should just get the job done and let others do the talking. Luckily for Chris, however, the analogy doesn’t extend into their respective organizations. Trek’s support helped Chris win big races whereas the culture of losing that has always plagued the Detroit Lions ultimately pushed Barry Sanders into early retirement.

Chris and I no longer train together now that he has moved onto an office job in bike transportation policy. However, I still remind myself to relax and flow through the rocks like he would. I have always gravitated towards a stubborn impatient style of riding, but I have gotten much better with his example and I crash a lot less.