Words: Israel Carillo
I still can't quite explain why riding a closed race track at the absolute limit of my abilities, holding on to my bike and wondering whether that will be enough to be the fastest rider on the mountain on a given day, in a place far from home, is infinitely more appealing to me than riding the trails I know like the back of my hand with no one else around.
I don't fully understand it, but the little voice that pushes me to compete is clearly still alive even if the entire package that once made me competitive is only beginning to emerge from hibernation.
With that in mind, we loaded up the car. We headed to Guadalajara, Jalisco, to once again line up against the best downhill racers in the country at Round 3 of Mexico's premier national series.
The venue is called “Bugambilias,” a track that holds a special place in my story. More than twelve years ago, it was on this very hillside that I first had the idea that maybe I could make a living riding bicycles. Returning to race there all these years later naturally brings a lot of reflection. By the end of the weekend, it felt fair to ask myself whether it's time to push harder than ever or start thinking about hanging up the gloves. But I'll get to that later.
It's interesting how revisiting the same place can feel like a completely different adventure. In competitive cycling, it's common to return to the same venues year after year. Some tracks become classics. For me, Guadalajara, Bugambilias, and the familiar drive from Guanajuato have always been exactly that—a classic stop on the calendar.
Twelve years later, however, the experience is very different. These days I arrive not only as a downhill racer but also as a father, a driver, a tour guide, and everything else that comes with family life. The trip may be familiar, but the role I play within it is entirely new.
I've rarely felt such a strong desire to prove to myself what I'm still capable of on a bike. Maybe even more capable than I've ever been, and who knows if more capable than I may be one day in the future. The challenge, of course, is that life rarely gives you unlimited resources. Time, energy, and money are always competing for space. Add an extra bar labeled "unfinished business" and another one showing negative hours of sleep, and you have a pretty accurate picture of this race weekend.
Throughout practice, my speed increased with every run. The confidence started to kick in, and I gradually found a rhythm that could do the trick.
Then Sunday arrived: qualifying and finals day.
In one of the track's most technical sections, and one of the few places where multiple line choices were still available, I committed to the most aggressive option. A small mistake was enough to momentarily lose control. In downhill racing, a moment is often all it takes for a race to come to an end.
The crash sent me into a tree, causing my right shoulder to dislocate. Fortunately, there was no major structural damage on sight, and the shoulder was able to pop in without serious complications. I also experienced swelling and discomfort in my middle finger.
A few days after returning home, however, significant lower back pain appeared and temporarily sidelined me. I wanted to know whether these issues would become something serious or simply be part of the recovery process that follows a hard crash.
Today, I'm happy to report that the outlook is positive.
After several sessions on the trainer and a few rides back on my local trails, I'm back on the bike and preparing for the next challenge. My body still remembers the impact, but it also remembers why we do this in the first place.
As usual, I'd like to thank everyone who cheers from my corner for continuing to support this journey. Every race, every road trip, every training session, and every opportunity to line up at the start gate is made possible by partners who believe in this project.
Round 3 of the National Series did not end the way I had hoped, but it reminded me of something important.
Earlier in the race weekend, I found myself wondering whether it was time to push harder than ever or start thinking about stepping away. The answer became surprisingly clear.
The desire to compete is still there.
So we'll recover, get back between the tape, and continue the chase. There are still start gates waiting, still lessons to learn, and still plenty to discover about what is possible on two wheels.
Now it's time to get back to work and do what I love most.
Race downhill.
