Hell on Wheels : Family Feuds and Foggy Fungus Are All Part of the Mountain Bike World of the Grewals

On a recent sun-kissed morning in the San Bernardino Mountains, it was becoming abundantly clear that Rishi Grewal’s gastronomic lexicon is, uh, different.

Meat, particularly red meat, is shunned. Dairy products and other refined foods suffer a similar fate. As he extols the virtues of beet and garlic juice, Cytomax--an energy drink--and handfuls of vitamins and minerals, Grewal slices fresh fruit into bite-sized wedges. That done, he returns to the kitchen to fetch unfiltered apple juice, rice milk, granola, bananas and plain, nonfat yogurt.

It’s breakfast at Grewal’s, and afterward, Rishi goes lightly.

He pedals a high-tech, titanium mountain bike, its butyl and chro-moly components--from shifters to hubs to cranks--as intricate and feather-light as his morning meal.

Up he goes, climbing about 1,200 feet on dirt trails at the Snow Summit ski resort. He will eventually come racing down, covered in a film of dust, on two wheels and a prayer.

Rishi Grewal is a professional mountain bike racer, excelling in an endeavor that has captivated a certain yuppiefied segment of society. The sturdy bikes with thick, knobby tires have become such the rage that a cottage industry has surfaced as a manufacturing force.

Still, professionals such as Grewal are as anonymous as L.A. taxi drivers. Grewal and his fiancee, cycling pro Tammy Jacques, live in the far reaches of the Rockies near Carbondale, Colo., where they train in solitude.

Much of their time also is devoted to their anatomies.

Organic food alone will not ensure premium performances, so Grewal has enlisted holistic medical practitioners to sustain body and mind. He studies his biorhythms and searches for the perfect masseuse.

But despite the preoccupation with health, he has been unable to match the sport’s royalty--John Tomac, Daryl Price and Ned Overend--and he thinks he knows why.

Grewal, 26, suffers from Candida albicans, a natural yeast that grows in the intestines, the result of antibiotics having worn down the immune system. If neglected too long, as happened with Grewal, Candida turns into spores and bores its way through the small intestine. From there it enters the blood stream and circulates in the organs, where it colonizes like little aliens.

“You have foggy thinking, foggy vision,” Grewal said. “You just feel terrible.”

Physicians told Grewal he probably eroded his immune system by taking antibiotics to combat chest colds during his road-racing days in the 1980s. Jacques, who once suffered from Candida, thinks the problem became serious after Grewal completed a mountain bike tour in southern India four years ago.

Grewal, whose father, Jasjit, is a Sikh from India’s Punjab, joined a promotional tour for an Indian airline when his brother, Alexi, refused. He was advertised as an American-Indian cycling champion, a title more appropriate for Alexi, who won the gold medal in the 1984 Olympic road race.

Rishi rode through rain forests, deserts and coffee plantations, ending the tour in Bombay. The journey was as unsanitary as it was exotic. Organizers were unable to provide much bottled drinking water, so Grewal drank beer and Scotch. Good food also was lacking. Grewal returned with a parasite, and eventually a serious case of Candida.

His condition has been aggressively treated and he says recovery is just around the next uphill switchback. It was apparent in his second-place finish at the Jeep National Championship Series opener here last month that his endurance had improved markedly.

But last week at Mt. Snow, Vt., Grewal had to drop out of a race because he was too weak to continue. He had quit taking his medication and the Candida suddenly returned.

“I’m not the toughest person on earth, which is too bad because if I was, people would have problems,” Grewal said. “I’m unstoppable at times.”

While getting a massage later in the day, he suggested another explanation: “I look at the Grewals . . . we’re crossbred too much. Swedish, Indian. There are genetic problems they don’t even know about. The genes are all messed up.”

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Rishi Grewal is the youngest of one of American cycling’s elite--and eccentric--families. The Colorado

Grewals have been a force on the domestic cycling scene since Alexi won his medal in 1984.

Yet, the brothers--Ranjeet, like Rishi, competed on the roads before switching to mountain biking--were known for their tempestuous nature as much as their riding.

Alexi, for instance, spit into a CBS camera lens during a mountain stage of the 1986 Tour de France.

“They didn’t grow up in an affectionate family,” Jacques said. “When I first met Rishi, he needed a lot of comforting.”

Even Jacques, 27, a former member of the U.S. national road-racing team, was warned to stay away from Grewal after they met at a stage race in 1989. At the time, she was studying exercise physiology and chemistry at the University of Utah.

She ignored the advice. And after graduating, Jacques moved to Colorado to be with Grewal, as well as to pursue her own cycling career.

In the 1980s, competitors so disliked the Grewals and their teammates that fights sometimes erupted on the course. In one particularly embarrassing moment at a circuit race in Aspen, Rishi was caught on television fighting with rival Ron Kiefel as they pedaled.

Alexi, though, led the charge. He was known to throw water bottles at motorcycle escorts, to yell at cheering fans. Once, after accepting a third-place trophy in a Mexican race, he took the prize from the podium and set fire to it, in front of everyone.

The Grewals seemed to be fueled by something other than the desire to succeed. Now, they think their tantrums and antics are a reflection of their upbringing.

Jasjit Grewal, who owned an Aspen bicycle shop, was the strictest of disciplinarians and a powerful influence.

“He’s not American, which is OK,” Rishi said. “He has different beliefs on how things should work.”

As the youngest, Rishi escaped much of Jasjit’s wrath because his mother, Martha, took him to Kalispell, Mont., after divorcing Jasjit in 1978.

“But the divorce was very difficult on Rishi,” said Martha, a secretary in the mechanical engineering department at the University of Colorado.

Grewal’s relationship with his father remains tenuous.

“My mom’s support is much better,” Grewal said. “She doesn’t care how I do, just that I’m doing OK. My dad seems to care more how I’m doing (in racing).”

Jasjit is a common sight at mountain bike competition in the Rockies--from Durango to Crested Butte. He owns a 160-acre ranch surrounded by a national forest near Pagosa Springs, an hour east of Durango, where many of the world’s leading mountain bikers, including Ranjeet, reside.

“We don’t get along at all,” Jasjit said of his sons. “We’re not good friends.”

Rishi and Ranjeet are not welcome at the ranch, and although Jasjit, 57, admits the situation hurts, he said he is happier than ever.

“It’s the first time in my life I don’t need my family,” he said. “So many other people adore me. I’m directing my attentions to others than my own flesh and blood.”

On the occasions he attends races, Jasjit roots for his sons, but not vocally.

“It’s always painful,” he said. “We don’t even speak. They still resent the divorce and hold me responsible for all of it.”

Does he foresee a time when relations will be restored?

“It’s unlikely because they hurt me so much,” he said. “I’m immune to the pain they caused me. My boys are a huge disappointment to me. I’ve divorced my entire family.”

Rishi has finished third overall in the national series twice, and fourth in 1991 on the world circuit. But Jasjit lamented recently about his sons’ defeats by Overend, who at 37, is the Nolan Ryan of mountain biking.

“I tell them, ‘You let that old man beat you? How? Why?’ ” Jasjit said. “They’re not near as close to their potential. I don’t think they’re whole in spirit or their honor.”

The Grewals have undoubtedly gone their own directions.

Alexi recently married and lives near Boulder. He is a member of America’s best domestic cycling team, but a rash of injuries has kept him from succeeding this year. He suffered a broken back in a crash last year, then crashed hard again in April.

Ranjeet, who retired from road racing in 1986, re-entered the scene as a mountain bike racer, and was named rookie of the year in 1989. He has done little to distinguish himself since, although he remains one of the better American riders.

“Rishi is different from his brothers because he didn’t have that mental and physical pressure of his dad pushing him to whatever (Jasjit) wanted to be,” Jacques said. “He gained a lot of humility being around his mom.”

As Team GT’s cross-country specialist, Rishi also has gained insight into making cycling his livelihood. Despite the outlaw reputation, Grewal is one of the sport’s ambassadors.

An hour after racing at Big Bear, Grewal returned to the competition site to conduct a children’s clinic. About 50 youths--from 6 to 15--eagerly listened to Grewal explain the basics of the sport as they straddled their mountain bikes.

Grewal, his brown eyes beaming and shiny black hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, was giggling as the children pressed ever closer to hear him. Moments later, he led them on mock races, lavishing the children with encouraging words as they crossed the finish line.

His touch was gentle, and genuine. Grewal then signed autographs as dozens of little hands waved his poster in his face. He stayed until the last one left with a souvenir.

A father wearing biking shorts approached, mountain bike in tow.

“I just want to thank you for what you did today,” he said, referring to the clinic, not Grewal’s second-place finish.

Grewal smiled, and shook the father’s hand.

“No problem,” he said.