Goin’ Green

So what do you do you with a track bike that has not lived near a velodrome in a while? You recycle it and turn it into a commuter bike!

Yes, folks my racing this year will be up against cars, potholes, glass, traffic lights and bike messengers. Wicked awesome!

The Final Chapter of 2007 XC Race Season

The 2007 mountain bike season has come to a close for me. Racing was my fortress this season. It kept me figuratively and literally moving forward in the midst of major changes. But I have been putting off the last race of the season update for weeks. I wandered into the “off-season” with such ferociousness that it has been difficult to look back at what has already been accomplished.

Arriving in Farmington, CT for the final Root 66 after a nice relaxing stay at my lovely aunt and uncle’s home and a brutal round of Happy Gilmore croquet, my elation to finish the final cross country race was clouded by a layer of heavy fatigue – though not to be blamed on the croquet match. Mentally and physically I was cooked. I felt like I was running on fumes.

It took a couple of trips to the registration tent to get my number plate. I forgot my money to pay for the race, had to make a detour to the bathroom and got caught up socializing with my race buddies. I finally suited up and took a pre-ride spin. The course as dry, fast and the only technical elements to clear were four logs graduating in size. Not one section was walkable.

My bike, however, was giving me serious fits. I had some work done on it and it was ghost shifting. I chunked my way from one gear to the next to try and find one that would hold the chain. I was lucky enough to have my teammate, Jon Rowe, give me a hand and find better alignment with the rear derailleur. It was enough to make it tolerable to ride and get me through the race.

The start line was very social until the whistle went off. I popped off the front with a slight burst trying to maintain sight of the usual fast suspects. It was not before long that I fell back and lost glimpses of their bright colored jerseys in the twisty turns of the trails.

With each pass through the start/finish line area I was cheered on my best and most devoted fan club – my hubby, Stephen, and my aunt and uncle ringing their cow bells. Stephen receives fan of the year award for supporting my racing endeavors – putting up with grueling training schedules, dealing with my unruly pre-race attitude, post race highs, sweltering heat, rain storms, driving me thousands of miles to events, and just plain taking care of me as my loyal soigneur. My aunt and uncle have also delightfully attended many of my races – their cheers are powerful and the cow bells are inspiring. I am the luckiest racer out there to have so much support!

Back to the race. It took less than an hour and a half to power through the wooded dusty trails and complete four 4-mile laps. I was thankful to have finished upright. My bike still gave me fits but at least I did not have to race single speed. Maybe next season. I finished 4th for the race. Since this was also the Root 66 series finale I also found myself 3rd overall for the Pro Women. Overall, I had a respectable season and feeling proud that I was able to overcome many obstacles to see it through to the end.

Boiling Cauldron: Wompatuck State Park 9/8-9/9

I have finally pulled myself away from the TV remote and a tub of ice cream to recount the last few mountain bike races……

Racing at the Wompatuck State Park was not a long drive. It seemed strange not to have to drive for two or more hours and crash in a hotel for the night. We even joked about simulating a long pre-race drive. But there was no need for that….it was the NEMBA festival complete with music, food, folks and fun!

The final Root 66 short track race on Saturday was super hot. It was about 95 degrees. Add a two hour race delay and no shelter from the heat makes for an energy zapping event. Even so, I was ready to take on the challenge. Steve’s Uncle Danny even made the trek in from the north shore to see the race! My fan club keeps growing.

The competitors lined up at the start and zipped through a canopy of pine trees and a soft needle-covered ground, a quick shot back out on the open grass into the trees with some technical rocks and roots, a tight turn onto pavement, up a loose rock hill, through some forest single track and out back in the open field to the start/finish. The loop was just under a mile and felt like the longest short track course of the season.

The women were tossed in with the men racers who always make it interesting. Testosterone was flying everywhere and the energy levels varied greatly. There were guys just tooling along drooling from the thick waves of heat and others who took off like shots and those who faded fast. I caught up to one of the faders and requested a pass, but he was not inclined to let me get a head of him. So when we hit the pavement, I floored it and passed him. I kept my steady pace and headed up the loose rock hill when he came zipping by me again. It is interesting how these guys get back into the race when a chick passes them. Anyhow, he must have used all his juice on the hill and proceeded to shut it down. I told him, “The rule is if you are going to pass me you cannot slow down.” He finally gave in that I was going to go faster and let me go through.

I endured many sweaty laps and no crashes. Cheers were heralded in the trees and at the start/finish line. Finally finishing my 30 minutes of heat puking pain, I claimed a first place victory as well as first place for the Root 66 Short Track Series!

For Sunday’s cross country event, I carefully planned out my strategy. I had done several pre-rides of the course and even went out with Bike Barn, the event sponsor, to help trim and tag the course. It had been desert dry out here and I felt like I was back in Southern California. I felt that this was going to be my redeeming race. Well, things change – like the weather. It was a misty humid cool morning.

The night before the race it rained hard. Luckily, the ground was so dry and thirsty it soaked up the moisture nicely. Still, this course was rocky and rooty. It was not completely dry so everything was slicker ‘n snot for 22 miles. I waddled off the start line knowing what lay ahead pacing myself into the race.


My aunt and uncle drove in from Connecticut for an afternoon of cheering and race entertainment. Steve once again loyally stationed himself at the feed zone, giving newbies lessons on proper handoffs of cups of water and juice.

Unfortunately, my pre-rides went flying out the window. As I tried to bust through the technical sections on my narrow tires I greased off everything imaginable. I was feeling strong and confident, but without traction I had to settle into doing the best I could without serious injury.

I tried to make up for lost time on the flats and powered up the climbs. Dabbing was a constant on the slippery rocks and roots. I tentatively pedaled my way over the slimy bridges. I caught and passed one women, Mo, and encouraged her to jump on to catch the rest of the pack. Later I learned she had crashed and was having bike issues.

Continuing on through the race, I wove in and out of the single feed zone that at times was a downhill feed. Huh!?!? I skidded through to grab a water bottle. Working my way back into the woods, several dude racers came up behind me asking me, “How much further do we have to go?” and “Are we there yet?” I am not sure what category they were racing in, but it really seemed like an odd question for a RACE! My replies were not tender and nurturing like, “Quit whining and keeping pedaling.” Or “Don’t make me pull this car over……” I did have empathy for one fellow who took a wrong turn and got off course taking a long way around. Ooops!

Another group of dudes came up on my wheel and they were actually determined. It was nice to see that they kept pushing themselves. I kept them in sight and chatted with a few. Hitting the last stop at the feed zone, I zoomed up the pavement hill to slide back into the trees. I was setting a mean pace for the last three miles to the finish line. Then I dropped my chain. Grrrrr! I had to pop off my bike and wrench it back on to the cogs. I jumped back on the bike and spun out the last bits of technical baby head rocks and rooty tangles.

The race came to a close and I rolled over the finish line in fourth place. No crashes. The only injury was a hole burned in my lower back by the tool I had in the jersey pocket. Ow! But nothing a cheeseburger wouldn’t cure!

8 x 8

Just over a week ago I decided that I would test my skills in a 6 hour mountain bike marathon in Dalton, MA. Another fabulous event put on by my team, North Atlantic Velo. It was a chilly weekend, sunny and unseasonably cool in the 60’s, but perfect riding weather. We landed at the race venue the day before to help mark the course. Backtracking one section of the race course, I went down the wrong trail and did a very elegant endo. Stopping my front wheel cold against a buoyant log across the trail I flew over the handle bars and landed with a quiet thud. It was the most noiseless crash ever – the only sound was my shoes clicking out of my pedals.

The next morning I reluctantly hauled myself out of bed for a tasty breakfast and then off to the race venue. This was my first experience of not being freaked out about having enough time to go through my pre-race preparation fidgeting like a baseball player up to bat between pitches. We arrived just under an hour before the start. After getting my race number, I procrastinated getting ready. With 15 minutes before the start, I ran back to the car to put my uniform on and rode my bike to the start line. That was my warm-up.

A 6 hour mountain bike marathon is a little different than the regular cross country races. Instead of competing for the fastest time with a defined set of laps, it is how many laps you can complete in 6 hours. We were told at the start line that if we did not complete our lap by 3:30 pm, that lap would not count.

A mass start with all the Pro/Experts, I rolled off the line like I was going to the coffee shop. I was not in a hurry. It was going to be a long day and I needed to pace myself. In my head I was thinking that I would only have to complete 6 laps, since the race I competed in at this location earlier in the summer I rode 4 laps in just under four hours. A couple of laps into the race and the official announced to me that I had completed 2 laps in an hour and a half. Whaaaat?!?? I thought I was going slow. This cannot be true! My calculations concluded that I was probably up for 8 laps at my pace…..noooooooooooo!

Toward the end of my fifth lap a part of the trail was becoming precariously washed out on narrow spine just before a technical jaunt over a stump. I clipped out my left foot trying to gain some traction, but I was too far down in the silty washed out sand that I could not reach my leg to stable ground. I proceeded to fall backwards down the hill into the sticks and leaves scraping the entire line of my right shin bone. Other than a couple of bruises and some snake bite cog marks, I was OK. (Later, I would find out that Steve would have a matching wound putting his foot through a bridge. The poor fellow!) I jumped back on my bike and tried to regain ground on the racers ahead of me, but once the adrenaline wore off, I was toast.

Lap six and seven were close to death marches. The demons were leaking into my head with, “Why am I doing this?” I felt sick to my stomach and I was getting a dehydration headache. I kept pushing water and juice. Each lap I had grabbed new bottle and ate something, but my stomach was not digesting the gels and half of Clif Bar Stacy had so kindly held out for me while Steve managed my bottle handoffs. Coming through the start/finish zone after my sixth lap, I clanged my left hand on one of the rebar posts as I cut the turn too close. OW! In the midst of my increasing delirium, Steve made me pull off in the feed zone to eat solid food. A banana and half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich settled in my stomach nicely.

During lap seven I was fantasizing that I would not have enough time to do another lap because I would not finish before the cut-off time. Then these two junior kids rolled up behind me. One of them asked if anyone had any paper towels. Who carries paper towels on a ride? He lamented to his friend that he could do one more lap, but he had to poop. Lovely. I told him to look around, the forest has lots of leaves, bio-degradable too!

I rolled through the start/finish and asked the officials, “What time is it?” They replied, “It’s 2:28.” Whaaaat! I rode up to the feed zone and grabbed another banana and discussed it with Steve. “Your slowest laps have not been longer than 50 minutes,” he said. “So I have time to do another one?” I asked hoping to burn more minutes with the conversation and not have to go back out. “Yup,” he said. “Ok, I can do another one.” There is no crying in biking. And off I went thinking, “If I am doing this, it better, *&^*in’ count!”

Finishing my eighth and final lap with under 10 minutes to spare and in 2nd place I completed 8 eight mile laps. I leaned my bike down to get off it because I could not lift my leg over the top tube. I was exhausted. My body ached. I walked around like an old Labrador retriever until we got in the car for our three hour trip home.

Heat Seeking Missile

Driving almost four hours round trip to pre-ride the Hodges Village Dam race course in Oxford, MA seemed like a huge mistake. But I have realized how important it is for me in preparing for race day. Still, I wonder if the effort is worth it as I spent half the day on the highway dodging RV’s, mini-vans and Floridians up north for the summer.

The venue was in a grassy bowl behind a dam. Of course it was hot out for the New England contingent. From my new bike shoes I was in a comfortable toasty bliss in the 90 degree sun. I felt giddy and my stomach was tossing while I was warming up for the start. I tried to relax by riding in the kid’s race, encouraging the next generation of racers. One kid yelled at some expert guy, “Dude get OFF the trail, I’m racin’!!” I know how he feels….

At the whistle, I took off like a missile. I had my strategy to keep a strong pace without blowing myself up in the 5 mile 4 lap race. The trails were smooth with root tangles and short hill bursts that made my heart pound hard and fast. Only one short little loose hike-a-bike and a barricaded bridge was in my way of clearing everything on the tight tree-lined trails and fast flat double-track.
I took the lead the first two laps zipping through each turn decisively and with confidence. I pedaled every chance I could get. A tiny misstep on a sharp right turn sent me almost off the trail and another racer cut inside to pass me. It was a sweet move on her part, bad on mine. I managed to pass her at the barricaded bridge doing a decisive nifty ‘cross maneuver and hopping through the tiny break in the cement carrying my bike over the wall.

At the third lap there were three of us almost wheel to wheel. I backed off a little to grab water from the feed zone and a new bottle of juice. I figured during the first two laps I was able to close this gap and snag the lead and would do the same here. Before I knew it, she had taken the lead was not in sight. I put my head down to close in on her. Another racer, Sarah, was on my tail. The leader of the men’s pro field lapped us and right behind him was what I thought to be another pro/expert racer who almost took me out on a turn into the single track, only to pull off the race course a little past the feed zone to go pee in the trees. He was warming up for the sport race later on in the day. I wanted to say, “Dude get OFF the trail, I’m racin’!!” But I did not want to spare any energy.

Latching onto my secret race mantra and remembering my fellow race pal, Christie, and her determination at the Rim Nordic stage race I kept the legs churning for the last lap. I was determined to go fast. I am finding my race spirit again. With the leader barely in my sights at each turn I kept pushing myself to go harder. Swinging through the last turn to the finish my right leg cramped. Yow! I kept my left leg turning and rolled over the finish line in 2nd and HAPPY! Instead of being minutes behind, it was only 23 seconds. This was my best cross country finish of the season!

Racing like a Folding Chair

The USA National Mountain Bike Championships took place last week at Mount Snow in West Dover, VT. After much hemming and hawing about whether or not to compete in the cross country event I finally mustered up the courage to put in my last minute registration and a day trip to go pre-ride the course.

Mount Snow has the most technical cross country course and it is also the most expensive venue – overpriced with plenty of New England attitude. The pre-ride went really well. I was excited even though my legs and lungs were a little fatigued from the previous Sunday’s race. I took my time rolling through the 5.5 mile course and riding sections I was too scared to attempt last year. Afterwards, I had a chance to catch up with some Southern California pals, Lyle and Brook too!

Race day arrived and all the stars were misaligned. It had rained for the previous two days and the trails were a spongy sloppy mess of peanut butter mud. Physically, I was not feeling so great. I had a wave of exhaustion that I could not shake. I put on my best smile and forced myself to the start line trying to find my focus and familiar faces of friends Christie and Caroline. Since I have not been frequenting the national circuit this year, my rankings are lacking and my call-up was at the back of the bus. It was going to take some extra effort to get through the pack.

I flew off the start line weaving my way through the flock of racers. Approaching the first bit of single track it was a bottleneck over a slippery bridge. Position really mattered since we were funneled through a tight bit of trail. It was frustrating to find myself getting off my bike because the folks in front of me could not ride it. But that would not matter much by the end of the three lap race as I fumbled my through most of the other parts of the trail.

Burning so much energy at the beginning of the first lap I took most of the rest of the lap to recover. I felt as if I was going backwards. I rode the whole trail in the pre-ride and for the race I walked my bike through masses of foul mud. I did not know if I had enough fight in me to finish. Each time I got back on my bike to race I was off again, either because I fishtailed my way off the trail through the mud or because I flew over the handlebars. Also, my bike was not functioning well. My front fork had been shipped off to be fixed - the company over-promised and under-delivered and I was racing on the off-season spare. It was infuriating.

The fanatical fans were fantastic on the steep climbs. But it just was not my day. The mud formed thick layers on my bike so it felt like it weighed five hundred pounds. I bounced my front wheel to get some of the sheets of mud off the tires. I tried to fly down the descents with chunks of mud flinging back into my face.

My second lap was faster than my first lap and by my third lap I lost track of time. I passed a couple of other racers. I was racing in slow motion. I finally finished and did everything I could not to just lay flat out on the finish line and wait for Stephen to carry me back to the car. It was a rough day. Yes, I was not last. And I finished the race when so many others packed it in after the first lap. There is still so much for me to learn about racing. At least there will always be a cheeseburger after a race......

Clear as MUD

Sunday I raced at Pat’s Peak in Henniker, NH. As you can see once you cross the border into New Hampshire the state government is really concerned about your safety (on the right is the State Safety Rest Stop building) while you purchase large amounts of alcohol at their outlet liquor store. Curious.

Other than New Hampshire filled with odd folks – which may be a condition of their environment compromising of too much fresh air, dense forests and lack of strip malls to keep them in tune with pop culture – it is a lovely state. Do they know about rain jackets?

After registering for the cross country race I found a fellow teammate, Scott, to go scope out the race course. We were delayed by a 30 minute deluge of rain and thunder before we ventured out. We managed to squeak in a pre-ride between the end of the 24 hour race and the beginning of the Sport XC race. The trails were technical, slippery, muddy and with strenuous climbs. The Root 66 promoters have yet to disappoint me on their choice of race venues.

As we started to line up for the beginning of the race, it began to rain again. The race official threatened to call the race if there was lightening as he reduced our five mile laps from 5 to 4. At the whistle we started on a grassy hill to wind our way up the mountain. My legs were not so cooperative. I just felt very lethargic. Trying to maintain a steady pace I kept the cranks churning. I popped my wheels over roots and rocks and crept through the deadly ditches on one of the descents. I managed to hold off a couple of racers as one slid out on a rooty turn and another rode off-course and had to double back. Toward the end of the race course there was some double-track and some folks camped out in a RV next to it. They had rigged up a ramp and posted a sign: “Ramp of Doom” and another obstacle: “Teeter Totter of Terror.” Since I am not into terror but still a sucker for a dare brought on by their ringing cow bells, I tested the ramp and caught some air. Yeeeehaaaw! Then I mistakenly took a right turn, following one of the Expert men racers to head down hill instead of the left-hand uphill climb. Now I was backtracking.

By the start of the second lap it started raining pretty hard. Just after I grabbed a water bottle in the feed zone I was having trouble seeing through my eyewear. I tried rinsing the mud off with squirts of water. That did not help. At this point I was not sure if the mud was on the inside or outside of my glasses. I kept plugging away spinning over the slickery roots – zipping my rear wheel several revolutions and wearing off bits of knobby tread. The rain did not let up. It kept coming in waves of heavy downpour. The trails in the trees were so dark and foggy it felt like I was doing a night lap in a 24 hour race. I finally removed my glasses after debating whether crashing into a tree from not seeing was better than having globs of mud flung into my eyeballs. Mud won.

By the third lap I was struggling through the mud. The race course had changed for each lap. Either the rain had washed out all the lines with mud or the lighting was completely different. One racer was keeping a steady pace just off my tail as we climbed past the feed zone. I was soaked and had a rock in my left shoe. I refused to stop for a silly pebble that would dig a hole in the flats of my foot and ruin my racing career for fear of getting passed. Thunder blasted through the skies and it rained cords but there was not enough lightening to call the race. I dug in to keep climbing strong. It was becoming impossible to ride the technical mud single-track climbs. I lost function of my front derailleur as it was clogged with mud and grass. I lost control of my bike as I slid down the twisty trails. Although I did not crash, I did some slow motion slides and laid my bike down a few times. To keep my spirits up I caught even more air on the Ramp of Doom.

The fourth and final lap I was ready to finish strong. The sun started to come back out and it was getting steamy swampy warm. However the single-track climbs were impossible to spin through unless I wanted to completely burn my legs out. So I ran. Yes, I RAN one complete section of the single-track fearful I was going to get passed by the couple of racers behind me. (Those of you who are trying to convince me that cyclo-cross – ahem, PSYCHO-cross- is fun, I am still NOT convinced.) Once it was possible to ride again, I saw another competitor ahead of me. I laser beamed my focus to catch her and I passed with ease. This was my last chance on the Ramp of Doom. I lined up for one last jump and took the uphill left turn with speed. Finally, I crossed the finish line to float in for a fourth place finish. Awesome. Absolutely awesome.

Building Character?

Racing this weekend was located in the bowels of western Connecticut. It was a southern California drive from the highway – 45 minutes to go less than 20 miles. There just is not an easy way to get to Winsted, CT.

Finally arriving in town, we parked at the local high school wondering what type of course would be carved out of this small hillside town race put on by the local fire department. My first reaction was that this was going to be much like the NORBA national circuit races……. begging for a technical section. (Sorry folks, I do not consider NORBA NMBS switchbacks technical even if they are rutted out.)

I quickly signed up for the short track race so I could get a quick look at the course. Straight after the football field start we were thrown into a maze of rocks and climbing switchbacks and then down a very narrow swath of trail and a hard right turn back up the pavement to the start/finish area. For the warm-up I tried to locate the best lines and took some scenic routes like the early pioneers, wandering into the pile of glass without puncturing a tire. My posse spent half an hour picking glass off the course, learning from one of the fire fighters that every time it rains glass “blooms” like mushrooms on this trail. It was the first toasty race of the season in the northeast and I was pretty happy not to be sporting arm warmers and slathering warming oils on my chilly toes.

For the short track start we chicks were bundled in with the dudes. It was a matter of position for this race start. I got stuck behind the clog of clods who were trying to maneuver through the rocks and dismounted. The guy in front of me swung his leg wide like he was getting off of a horse and clobbered me square on the elbow with the heel of his shoe. That hurt. (He was a gentleman and apologized after the race……so now I can’t complain….darn it!).

Trying not to get thrown out of focus, I squeezed between the adrenalin junkies and found my way to the top of the hill. Many laps later into this 30 minute puking festival I kept trying to go faster. I was in the lead. Then I bit it hard. Over the handle bars I went with force on the narrow squirrel path. I am not sure how it happened, but I jumped right back on my bike to finish. My adrenalin pumped its way through my body in overdrive and I overheated. I lost my lead. My only consolation prize was lapping one of the expert racers three times. I took second and tiptoed out on the XC race course for a pre-ride/cool down.

Pre-riding the course was a smart move. Swimming and playing water games after the race to cool off and soak my rock rash legs was not. Do you ever bonk in your sleep? I did. First time. I woke at 1 AM with a start – either it was the pain of hunger or the loud growl from my belly screaming for chow. Sneaking into the kitchen I inhaled some grub and then was back in the sheets to grab some more ZZZZ’s.

During my pre-race warm-up for the cross country race my legs felt like heavy driftwood. All I wanted to do was curl up next to the pool and call it a nap day. My body was rejecting my pleas to race. I found some shade upwind from the port-o-potty stench in the sweltering 90 degree heat for the warm-up. For once I did not panic about getting the start line. I took my sweet time – like those slow moving people who cross against the lights and hold up traffic. While waiting for our wave to go my foot stuck to the melting tar sealing a pavement crack. It sure was hot out.

At the whistle, I stomped off the start line. I figured it would be better for me risk blowing up on the first technical section than it would be getting around someone. I made it through in the top three. On the first descent the leader in the race took a fall right where I ate it the previous day – so it wasn’t me after all! The XC course was nice and technical winding through trees and roots with some stiff long climbs over granite rock outcrops. The local stump pullers took off and I did my best trying to hang in with them and not let them out of site. For the first couple of laps there were three of us racing together, swapping positions taking precarious passing lines so that we would not be held up by the other while we tried to catch the race leaders.

By my third lap I found my rhythm and stayed ahead of the other two chicas. Alas, I had lost sight of the leaders. I held my secret mantra in my head during each climb and descent. A few times my mind wandered, but I pulled back into focus fairly quickly. I kept the legs churning as I stood up and tried to sprint out of the corners and the tops of the climbs. My lower back was taking a beating as I strained to keep my speed on the climbs and bounced over rocks and roots on the way down. I was racing. It felt good. There was no relief during the race – even through the feed zones. I had to force myself to slow down and guzzle from my water bottles to be sure I stayed hydrated.

When the official tells you at the start line you have 5 four mile laps you have make up a game in your head to remember what lap you are on. At the feed zone in the middle of the race course, one of the fire department dudes asked me if I knew what lap I was on……it was as if he was practicing checking my vitals from the lawn chair. Did I really look that bad to him? Luckily he did not try to hold my neck in traction or cut my clothes off with trauma shears. So yes, I was on lap four and belted out my response so he would not feel inclined to take me off the hill in a stretcher.

I rolled through my fifth and final lap with a vengeance. I was not going to slow down. I sucked a gel down and chased it with water raring to finish strong. And finish strong is what I did. I finished 5th and I closed the gap on the time between me and the leaders. I did not crash or walk my bike. What a wonderful day.

Knees and Trees

Just about every mountain bike race I have been in this season I have managed to whack my knees and have tried to take out some trees. One race I even slammed my knee on a tree. So now I sport a perpetual bruise on each knee. Oh what to wear with purple and yellow?

Anyhow, this past weekend was the grand Apple Blaster Mountain Bike Stage Race. It was three events taking place in two different states – no not delirium and panic, New Hampshire and Vermont…jeeeesh…. Saturday’s events were the short track and hill climbing events. We drove in that morning and arrived just in time to wait for the promoters to set up. For some reason these New England events tend to have livestock on the premises. The start/finish area included some chickens. Yup, we were in the sticks.

The short track course was already taped off so I took a test drive. This was the longest short track I have been on yet. We wound through the apple orchard and barreled down the other side of the hill to climb bit of dirt road and then we were launched into some single track steady technical climb that kept everyone honest. My first practice run through I endo’d over the last ditch before the start/finish. That is were I tasted a couple of trees - saplings so they were tender and pliable and did not leave much of a mark.

For the actual race it was so cool to see a whole line-up of racing women! We actually got our own start and the official gave us our last three laps off our own race leader instead of being tossed in with the guys! Outstanding! During the race I was on fire and inspired. I was doing pretty well on my first lap until I hit the technical jog through the rocks and roots and lost my chain. I clamored back on the bike and hustled around the turns and up the hills to regain position. But no such luck. On the gravel left turn up the dirt road I laid my bike down and had a complete water bottle yard sale and chain drop. Ooops! I got back on and hammered my way through again, tasting a little puke from the effort. I finally got a few laps in without incident. Coming around for my last lap I was so excited that I endo’d off a pyramid of logs in the mud. I finally finished upright and dirty and in 2nd place.

Right after the short track race we had the hill climb time trial. This hill had some 6-10% grades up some old logging road – for you west coast folks this means fire road. It was shale and gravel with a lot of spring run-off troughs. I think I was the only person who hit the only puddle in the road on the way up. I zoomed my way up and came close to winning – I could almost taste it, but 11 seconds too short off the winning time. Not bad and another 2nd place finish.

The next day we were in Putney, Vermont for the cross country race. It was sure a beautiful venue. The day was warmer too. I took a chance to do my warm-up on the race course instead of sitting on the trainer. Riding the fine line between a predictable consistent warm-up and getting a pre-view of the course made me wary of how I would perform during the race. I took a chance to check out the course and found myself gasping for air on some of the climbs that I got off and walked. I was not sure I was going to make it back for the start in time. It was swooping single track roller coast trails in the trees with no let-up. During my practice run I missed a shift and slammed my right knee on my handlebars climbing a switchback. Ow! Fortunately, I made it back just in time for the start and a quick pre-race pee break.

At the whistle, I stomped off the start line. I am not sure where the energy was coming from because my pre-ride/warm-up did not feel good. I was racing between controlled and ohmygodiamgoingtoofast speed on the descents. I found the sweet spot on the switchback climbs and tight left hand S turns. I went a little too fast down one hill that my bike hopped straight down parallel to the hill. I managed to keep upright and keep going hoping to remember not to do the same scary move for the rest of the laps.

Hammer, hammer, hammer. I raced steady staying consistent with each of my five 4.3 mile laps. Every cell in my body was smiling. I was having a wonderful time. I grabbed a juice bottle from my doting husband in the feed zone and went out for my 3rd lap. It was getting toasty warm and I was thirsty. I ended up losing the bottle about mid-way through the lap. At first I thought it was a stick trying to take out my rear derailleur. For the last two laps I kept my race pace trying to ride as fast as my legs would go without cramping. No crashes or mechanicals I found myself at the finish in 3rd place. Shazam! It was a major racing breakthrough. I am getting back on track – physically I am stronger and mentally I am ready to race.

Humbled….

A week ago Sunday we headed for Dalton, MA for a XC mountain bike race put on by none other than North Atlantic Velo. What a swell team! The day threatened rain, but we danced between the clouds and basked in the low 60’s.

The venue was really interesting, with pigs and chickens next to the port-o-potties, mosquitoes the size of helicopters, and a super fun technical figure eight race course with an over-under bridge. The pro women were designated four 8 mile laps of grueling mud, tricky climbs and troll harboring tree roots. It was going to be a war of stamina.

This would have been a great race course to pre-ride, but with the major moving transition going on in our lives it was not a possibility. I did ride the first mile of the course for my race warm-up. But it did not help me very much. After we were sent off the start line, I stumbled my way through the first mile causing some pile-ups. Too much adrenaline and the first time this season I was mentally checked in to a race I was bouncing off everything and taking bad lines and clogged the trail. I professed numerous apologies and was having flashbacks of getting frustrated with people who have done the same in front of me at races. Very humbling….. Anyhow, I finally finished the first full lap doing a lot of self-cheering and managing to ride things I would not have attempted a few weeks ago-like taking root-filled descents at crazy speeds and kicking my back wheel around some hair pins.

The second lap was much easier. Mary Lynn, one of the other racers, and I were frequently swapping places. I am enjoying meeting the east coast contingent of racers. These ladies are no slouches. I kept a steady pace and was actually glad that this was a longer race. After hopping on for my third lap and scrambling my way up the greasy root laden hike-a-bike hill, Mary Lynn was not to be found. Alone, I was talking to myself like a newly discharged mental patient without meds. I knew I needed to maintain a good pace because it is easy when I am on the trail all by myself to kick back and just take in the day and forget that it is a race. Steve was at one of the turns yelling to me, “Last lap! You’re doing great!” I guess I forgot to tell him that we were doing FOUR not three laps. I caught up with some other racers struggling up the grassy hill. One guy said, “You’re almost finished!” I am not sure if he was talking to me or himself since he was walking his bike. But I hope I made him feel better when I told him I had another lap.

As I rolled through to take my fourth and final lap, I felt that pang in my stomach when I am about to bonk. I was nervous. I knew I could maintain my consistent pace for the last lap. The growl in my stomach grew to a roar. I was becoming delirious. I could not remember if I had been through certain sections of the race course or not and I started bouncing off of roots again. Thankfully, the feed zone was at the mid-point of the lap, so I was able to snag some juice and a gel to tide me over. I gobbled my sugary snacks when what I really craved was a sandwich. I kept it moving and rolled across the finish line before they packed up the official’s tent.

I came in fourth place. And I later found out that racers were being pulled if they did not complete laps in a certain time frame. I was so jazzed that I did not get pulled. Woohoo! I have deep pockets of endurance – now I need to add some speed to the equation.

Breakin’ Stuff

So every time I have come back from a ride or a race, Steve asks, “What did you break now?” Last week I snapped my chain off my mountain bike. This week I flatted in a XC mountain bike race on a tire I have ridden on three times and I snapped my road bike cable shifter thingy during a “recovery” ride. I think I need to become a product tester because it is apparent that companies are not using the same protocols or environment I am encountering, such as thighs of mass destruction and “just riding along” power.

In any event, these last three weeks of racing have been tough - not so much physically as mentally. Last year, my husband and I made a huge life change and moved back to the east coast where we are both from to seize an opportunity of a lifetime. For a variety of reasons it did not work out. So now we are back in the throws of changing our lives again. I am very thankful for biking even though I am frustrated to have had to reduce my season goals to finishing a race unless the bike is completely trashed or I am carried out on a stretcher, and have as much fun as possible. So here are the highlights of what has been going on in the race scene:

Plattekill, NY XC

The race series is shortest distance from my house – only one hour in the car on windy country roads that leave me wobbly carsick. And inevitably the drive includes getting behind someone who is afraid to use the gas pedal and go the speed limit.

After warming up in the parking lot on the trainer, we took the chair lift up to the start line. I rode up the lift with my eyes closed and a tight grip on the safety bar. The warm-up was lost to a sudden drop in temperatures and my poorly acclimated blood to the northeastern weather. The course was rough for these California sand trap rattlesnake riding legs. My legs tightened up and my stomach was having a fit out of the gate. I tip-toed the first lap trying to feel out what lines to take – a pre-ride would have been helpful. The next couple of laps I got faster, however, I dropped my chain and a sapling branch twisted itself between my spokes and rear disc brake rotor requiring me to stop for a bit to make my bike rideable again. I finished 3rd.

Coyote Hill, VT ST and XC

This was the first short track event of the season for me. I forgot how much I missed racing short track. I cannot explain my love for 30 minutes of shear suffering and pain. It is so satisfying. Sure the east coast short track race series do not pull the same amount of competition as do the NORBA national events, but they are just as fun. It is cool being sent off with all the men and trying to match their speed or have them try and show you how tough they are before they blow up on a hill trying to stay ahead of a chick. Nice. So we raced around a grassy hill in Vermont. I placed 1st for the women and still held off some of the guys.

I was thankful that after the short track race I pre-rode the XC course. It may have not been the smartest move on my part in preparation energy-wise for the XC race, but remember my new goals. It was a really nice rooty technical trail with bouts of mud that were dragged about to make some sections really slickery. I forgot how to ride technical trails after moving to California. This trail beat the snot out of me. My arm muscles are growing by the race with all the bike handling skills I am reforming.

Anyhow, I was miserable for the XC race. I was full body tired. It was tough to haul myself to the start line. But I did. Why? Because this physical activity keeps me from going insane. After one of the laps Steve asked me if I wanted a water bottle – I shook my head “No” and gave him the cat claw. I had fantasies of a DNF. What would it feel like to willingly quit a race? It is a slippery slope and there is no crying or quitters in bike racing. During the last lap I finally started picking off some racers, but it there were too few laps in the race to keep up the good work. I managed to pull out a 6th place finish with a nice wreck and chain shifting issues in four laps of muscle rattling moves.


Channel 3, CT ST and XC

AHA! I figured out the reason why more chicks do not show up to short track in this series…they are either too scared of my huge thighs full of raw power or too scared they will use all their matches for the XC race the next day. BUMS! Call me a sucker, but I like what I like and short track is awesome! It was the coolest most technical short track race I have ever competed in. I lapped the chicks in this race. Even better I had my own personal fan club cheering for me on the course. It was so energizing. 1st place feels good too.

Yes, I burnt some matches in the short track event, but not all of them. The XC course was pretty technical with some killer logs in the middle of the trail that required super-bunny-hopping skills or psycho-cross dismount-remount skills – none of which are currently in my repertoire – I often took the weenie-bout, the little off-shoot trail to go around the log. I managed an OK run on the first couple of laps only to acquire a flat just as I was heading out for a third lap. Time taken for a tire change meant lost spots in the race. I also had some huff-daddy ram his handlebars up my bum trying to pass me in a rocky slippery mud section. Whatever. But on the last lap I was able to catch and release 3+ racers that had passed me. I was getting faster each lap after the flat change. I can only hope that I am getting stronger with each event. Surprisingly I was not DFL (Dead Freakin’ Last), but 7th.

Je me souviens

Baie-Saint-Paul, Quebec c’était the place to race last weekend. About huit hours in the car and we arrived at this beautiful Quebec village on the St. Lawrence Rivière. Steve made a beeline into town since the previous weekend I snapped my rear derailleur in half for the second fois since we moved to the east coast. After Steve sawed off the broken derailleur and reassembed the bike, all I thought I had to worry about was a few minor shifting issues. And our little middle earth city does not have a viable bike shop to assist with these small matters – they are used to changing tires and greasing chains of retro relics.

So we sauntered into the only bike shop Baie-Saint-Paul (Galerie du Sport) and waited patiently as the shopkeeper assisted a couple on des choix of car racks. Steve gave me this look of “how long will we have to wait.” I told him at least vingt minutes since we were in a français only speaking part of Canada which emulates la vie dans europe. Dans my window of opportunity to express my plight….spastically used my French linguistic skills to ask for help in fixing my alignment for the weekend’s race. Marc, the owner, gave me the fearful look that my request may take too long, but of course I have no clue so I said, “Ca va prendre juste un moment.” Oui, I am a mauvaise estimator of how long it takes to get things done due to my heritage of being a passionate perfectionist. Marc found that one of my derailleur stop screws was stripped and he had no replacement for it. Dammit! How come I break so much biking stuff? He was sweet and kind enough to make it work with some standard pieces of hardware. I waited nervously by, biting my nails and sweating wondering if I was going to be able to race. Marc saw my anguish and using his limited English, said “Don’t worry!” Magique and $5.00 Canadian later, my bike was in race form! Forever grateful I am!

The jour avant the race I tested out Marc’s handiwork. Wow! I was impressed. The shifting was tight! I took a slow first lap around the course. Fun, fast and technical. Droit! Gauche! My French brain was kicking in and responses were coming freely. The weird part about the whole language transition was coming around a corner and seeing two guys changing a tire and one yelling to me “Pompe!?” “Oui, je l’ai.” “Merci.” Awkward silence and I then asked, “D’où venez vous?” “Umm, ENGLISH??” So I was helping the only two other US racers at the event –Andrew and Kirk from Maine - with a pneu change, what are the odds?

Dimanche was race day. We were slated for quatre laps 6.31 KM long. This is the first race that I have been nervous for in a very long time. For those non-racers out there nervous usually comes with many trips to the WC. It ain’t purdy. Just imagine using a port-o-potty at the construction site after everyone has had the Denny’s grand slam or skillet special. DO NOT GO IN THERE!

Lining up was based on UCI and then Coupe du Quebec points. Marie-Helene Premont was at the front-the only other racer who has given Gunn-Rita a run for her money. Since I had no points I was an unknown at the back of the bus. It was a petit field with 17 femmes. But it was not short of riff raff wheels. I tried to ease into the race, but instead I had scurry around some not so great bike handling. The first lap was pretty speedy. But it was the second where I really started racing. The course was plein de roots and other obstacles including a barn we had to ride through. The air was cold 50 degrees Fahrenheit. The promoters had mentioned something about shoveling snow off of trails and making some areas rideable – I guess that is why there were some really sandy sections.

At the end of the second lap I started playing leap grenouille with a couple of racers. I managed to pull off some strong climbs and paced myself well to finally shake them off my tail. I was determined to race hard and not get lapped or pulled from the race. With Marie-Helene on the course I was not sure I was up against, especially since the course was so short.

10 minutes into my last lap, I hear over the loudspeakers Marie-Helene avait fini. Woohoo! I was not lapped! One small achievement at a time is what I seek. I mustered up the strength to not panic and stay focused to finish out the race strong. What killed me is that during the first couple of laps I rode parts of the course without a hitch. Then the last couple of laps I botched sections I had cleaned and then gallantly rode through areas I had struggled with at the beginning. How do you expliquer that? I am building a confidence with wacky roots and shale climbs. No complaints.

At the end I found myself at neuvième place. This was so exciting. I managed a top 10 finish in a UCI 2 race. It was a nice breakthrough for me and gave me the courage to know that persistence will prevail.

Lucky 113….Almost

Sunday was the Greenbiar Challenge in Boonsboro, MD. It was a UCI 2 classified mountain bike event which means the top ten finishers would get points toward qualifying for world cup events and the Olympics for 2008.

We arrived fresh on Saturday and I was eager to test ride the trail since it was going to be my third time on my mountain bike since December 2006. Northeast living means limited outdoor riding as I have mentioned numerous times. I took a quick spin out on the race course and found it fun, fast and all completely rideable even with my pre-race “I don’t wanna crash before I get to the startline” jitters. I am getting so much more confident and better in the roots, rocks and the sneaky leaf covered trails hiding trolls that want to take you out.

My number was 113 and I was not sure how that was going to pan out. I think Italy is one of the only countries that views the number 13 as lucky. Anyhow, I pinned my number on my sweet new threads of my new team North Atlantic Velo. For this race I had a strategy. Since the stresses in my personal life has seriously encroached my mental race energy I had to take a different plan of action. My head was not in the game – in so many words, I had a tough time wanting to race. Submitting a downgrade request to beginner was sounding really nice (that sound you hear is my husband coughing “Sandbagger!” into his hands).

At the gun I actually took my time off the start. As you can see, I am not in the picture. I kept my nerves sort of in check. I was on of the last chicks off the line and into the single track. This is not something I normally practice because passing racers on the single track expends a lot of energy.

By the second lap, my head was in the game. I was reeling in the chicks one at time, clawing my way up to the top 10. Keeping a steady pace, I climbed the steep hills really strong, clamored down some of the descents, dropped the hammer on everything else and tried not to hit the bubbas fishing next to the lake that we had to skirt around. The pro men were sent out before the pro women and were really kind about not pushing the women racers off the course and announcing themselves when they passed.

My third lap was just as speedy as my second lap until I came through the last root and mud downhill section. All of a sudden I heard a snap and shshshshhshsh. Yup, I shredded my rear tire. Quickly moving to the side of the trail I slapped a tube in while I watched all the racers I had previously passed whiz by me…….sadness….I gingerly rode to the start finish area yelling for a new wheel. The neutral support lickity split provided me with a wheel and tube. WOW! Although the gearing was off and the wheel was so heavy comparatively, I was so happy I was not going to DNF.

I finished out my final fourth lap and was ready to head to the showers. But USADA (US Anti-Doping Association) was there to greet me and chaperone me to provide a sample. Lucky 113 strikes again. They hauled my muddy body down about mile to the station. The lady driving the Gator was laughing at the prospect of me walking back to the car. She said with a giggle, “It sure is going to be a long walk back to your car.” I told her I was going to be pretty pissed off if I had to walk back in my biking shoes. (No pun intended.) I had to wait about 45 minutes and was released without having to provide a sample since I was on second reserve. That means if none of the first picks showed I was the fill-in. Nice.

So where is the luck in all of this? I really have to dig deep these days to find pleasant things to think about with all the drama that has been going in my life. So here it goes:

I am married to the coolest and most supportive guy in the world who drives me all over the US and Canada for bike races.
I finished the race.
I got to meet up with some race pals from last season- YEAH!
I did not get hurt.
The race course was wicked awesome.
The promoters for the race were fantastic-thanks to Jim at Potomac Velo and all his crew! Great race!

Ridin’ Dirty……or Nerdy?!??

Moving back to the east coast has challenged me on a variety of levels, biking included. I have spent many long hours in the basement looking at the snow piles out the window. Now that the snow has almost all melted it is time to go out and play! But unlike Colorado after the snow melts the roads here are not dry…..my bike has been perpetually dirty. My hubby rigged a fender on my road bike so I could get a few hours outside without freezing winter run-off spraying my butt. Sexy, I know.

I did my first training road race last weekend. It was very interesting. The race was next to the Hudson River and the spring breeze cut right through all my warm clothes. But the sun was shining and I was feeling like I had just been released from prison. I was scared I would have lost my edge pack riding since I have been training next to the washing machine in the basement for the last few months. The race was with CAT IV and V men. So here I was riding next to some guys who were similar to a washing machine. Many times I gasped for my life and collar bone with the sketchy wheels and crazy moves – like the one with race smarts who crossed the yellow line into oncoming traffic. Thankfully, there were only close calls and no crashes. I pulled off a 3rd place among the women in the group and about mid-pack for the men, finishing with the lead group.

This weekend we made the trip to Connecticut for my first mountain bike race and ride of the year. My aunt and uncle were so generous to take us in for the weekend and accompany us to the race. It was the first time I had been on my mountain bike since December. I was not too sure how I was going to handle the technical parts of the trails. Also, I acquired a cold the day before the race. My head was stuffy and I was feeling a bit grumpy about racing. It was especially hard to be motivated to race when the thermometer barely went over 40 degrees and the wind off the lake sent a chilling reminder that it could snow.

The problem with not riding my mountain bike turned out not to be the technical aspects of the race course; it was how my bike was functioning. The neat part about this race was there were 6-7 pro women. I was impressed with the turnout. The first lap, I shot like a bunch of nerves out of the gate. I took a lead position pretty quickly, but lost it to severe chain suck. Yup, my chain went between my cogs and spokes of my rear wheel. I thought I was going to break my rear derailleur yanking it free. As I finished my first lap, with Steve yelling, “You’re only 45 seconds behind the leaders.” To which I replied a disenchanted, “Whatever.”

So my first lap was not so hot with the mechanical. But I did motor through the race course smoothly. I was happy that my skills flowed back so easily. The trails were super muddy, with long stretches of deep mud puddles in some sections and fun roots and rocks in others. By the second lap I had caught up to the third place racer. We were riding together when another pro woman came from the opposite direction asking, “Am I going the wrong way?” Unfortunately, she had gotten off course and missed a turn. Sadly, she also packed it in for the day.

Into my third lap, I passed the racer I was riding with and did not see her again. I did get another mechanical, but was able to fix it pretty quickly. I was starting to get a little tired and having trouble to maintain focus. I looked for my energy gel I had stuffed in my waistband-somehow it had worked its way into my tights. I rooted around for it, but alas, no luck. I figured I would not starve and my energy would have to stay in my pants.

At the beginning of the final and fourth lap I endoed hard. I took a slow motion line into a rock garden mud puddle and flew over the handlebars, slamming my right knee on the rock and soaking my hand and foot in the icy muddy water. After five seconds of crying, I got back on the bike and pushed my way through the pain. I tried to take a sip out of my camel back, but all I got was a mouthful of mud. Pushing through the remainder of the race course, I had another incident of severe chain suck. This one was much more difficult to yank out because by this time my bike was so encrusted with mud. I started acting like Hincapie, I looked over my shoulder to see who was riding up to me-would anyone catch me with my crash and mechanical?

I reached the home stretch crossing the finish line with a 3rd place finish. I earned that place on so many levels. From being sick, to overcoming the mind demons to persevering through mechanicals and crashes it will probably be one of my more memorable races. Best of all, it was awesome to have my family and my husband there to support me and cheer for me. Thanks guys!

Smooth

Smooth was what my legs felt like after I shaved them for the inaugural training race that was supposed to take place last Saturday.

Grating was the sound of the plow clearing the road in front of our house at 4:30am. No racing Saturday-cancelled!

Numbing was the sound of my trainer while I sat on it gutting out another weekend of epic workouts staring at the washing machine in the basement.

Soggy is what happened to my chamois as I sweated through some tough intervals and the annoying drips down into my socks.

Clear were my intentions to not let the snow and cold get me down.

Eager I am to test out a full winter on the trainer against the ravages of the frost heaved roads and trails.

On another note, we have wildlife in middle earth. We have a resident deer who we have donned the name “Floppy Paw.” If you are from southern California and have seen the commercials for the San Diego Zoo you will recognize the zebra taunting the lions with his “floppy paw.” Anyhow, the deer has a rear leg that just is not right and drags it all over the place eating our shrubs.

DNS Times 2

DNS or in biking land = Did Not Show…..or for me lately it means it Did Not Snow….
Yes, we are still waiting for the mass amounts of snow received the second week of February to melt away.

For this weekend’s racing activities I had only good intentions of heading out to Plymouth, MA and jumping in a training race on Saturday. But then I got an email from my new team about a nice long initiation ride that was happening on Sunday. So I decided that a training road race with a bunch of skitterish Cat 4/5 men would be too much of a risk to the rest of the racing season – who needs a broken anything this early? Plus, the idea of driving eight hours round trip was not very enticing. So that was my first DNS of the weekend.

However, Sunday was not an intentional DNS. And no, I did not get baffled by the new daylight savings time change – I got lost driving to the meeting spot for the ride. What really stinks is that I cannot seem to orient myself to a map to save my life. I just don’t have the map skills. So when the written directions fail my very patient hubby spoon feeds me directions over the phone from a map. It sure is a good thing that bike races have fancy arrows and tape on the courses otherwise I would never finish a race. Unfortunately, after driving almost two hours, I missed the team ride by 20 minutes. Then I spent the next couple of hours and $1.10 in tolls backtracking to my house. I was so wicked bummed. For once I was going to ride outside and with people – for the first time in several months I would not be in the basement on the trainer looking at the washing machine…..sigh…..at least I was able to ride outside and I did not lose a toe to frostbite either.

Transitions: The Rest of the Season 2006

Spring to summer to fall to winter to spring, skipping summer and fall all together and straight to winter…..something to that Monty Python effect…..

During my east coast NMBS and World Cup race tour, my husband and I found a house on a nice piece of property in Upstate New York. Needless to say after June the race season went from crazy to chaotic. Squeezing in laundry between packing and unpacking the car for another race while at the same time trying to organize a yard sale and a whole life move to the opposite coast is not something that I would recommend to anyone not already on anti-anxiety medication.

Although much delayed, here are my race reports from the last four races of the National Mountain Bike Series now that I am starting to remember where I put things away in our kitchen…..

Altitude vs. Attitude Deer Valley, UT July 8-9, 2006

My teammate, Chrissy, and I headed out solo with no men in tow. It was a long drive from Southern California to Deer Valley. It took over 11 hours and several poor meal choices along the way. The course was a fun swooping singletrack with lots of switch backs. I did not find that the course was technical. After the pre-ride I was feeling strong and ready to go for another practice lap, but thought better of it to save some for the racing.

The beginning of the race was tortuous. After warming up we kept getting delayed because it was taking the pro men longer than anticipated to finish. Then we had to wait for a down hill racer to get pulled off the mountain. He arrived at the start line in an ambulance on stretcher and in a neck brace. I was doing what I could to not look.

But it wasn’t the pre-race distractions that impeded my performance. Whatever I had left in the tank for the pre-ride was not there race day. First, I burned a lot of energy from almost being taken out by a racer who has crashed or has caused a crash at every national event start line. It was the biggest turnout for the NORBA National Series – just a few less than at Sea Otter. The altitude knocked the wind out of me. My legs were not cooperating. It was impressive I actually crossed the finish line without serious injury or collapsing. 57th place is better than a DNF in my book.

The next day was short track. I have not done a lot of short track and I can say at this juncture I was in lust with short track. I just love the complexity of the courses and quickness of the race. Not one moment can be wasted. I had recovered a bit better than the previous day. Pushing myself beyond the exertion puke stage is cool. It was an aggressive race and I felt good with my ability to sneak through the tight bike clusters and turns. I just need to keep building myself up to not implode to finish out the race for the last three laps. I managed a 40th place finish.

Pulling the Season Together USA National Mountain Bike Championships, Sonoma, CA July 14-16, 2006

The USA National Mountain Bike Championships were moved this year from the beautiful Mammoth, CA to the dusty summer tundra of Sonoma, CA at the Infineon Raceway. Mammoth still had a ton of snow and it was not going to melt in time for mountain biking. I am trying to understand the mentality of hosting mountain bike races at car raceways. The environment is not what I would call a “mountain bike Mecca”.

I pre-rode the cross country course in the steamy heat of the afternoon in hopes that it would help acclimate my body for race day. Once again, the course was not technical. It was soft sand singletrack or bumpy doubletrack. The scent of burnt sage bushes was intoxicating.

The turnout for this race was weak. No one likes this venue and the promoters thanked everyone at the start line for attending especially since it was the USA Championships. We took off from the pavement and I was taken out on the first dirt hill. Some chick swerved in front of me and I landed on my side causing a couple of others to go down. Man, I felt badly – luckily not hurt. I got back up and into the race. Maybe crashing helped me. I was having an awesome day. I ended up passing so many racers. At one point the whole Ford Cycling team was lined up fixing bikes and changing tires. I swooped in on the finish line with a big grin. I was so psyched that I pulled off a 21st place –my best placement yet in a national event and the championships to boot! I told Stephen that I could go out for another lap I felt so good – then my rear tire went flat!

There was a day lag between the cross country race and the short track event. I had so much fun on this short track course. There was a series of BMX type burms that we had to maneuver over and then take a squeaky tight “S” turns up to the pavement hill. I tore through everything and managed to hold it together for the first time through the entire 20 minutes of the race minus the last three lap call. 29th place is where I landed. Woohoo! What an accomplishment!


Movin’Out Brian Head, UT August 5-6, 2006

With two cars packed with all our valuables and the moving truck on the way to New York, we headed to the last two national events of the season. We finally finished packing, cleaning and saying good-bye to my Southern California contingent of friends. But we still had to go through our closing on the house over the phone the day before the cross country race.

Exhausted and a bundle of nerves, I was looking forward to beautiful Brian Head, UT. This is my favorite race venue. If I could figure out a way to live here in the summer -not winter- I would. It is a tiny little ski town nestled in the mountains of Utah. It is right next to the breathtaking Cedar Breaks National Monument. Descriptions and pictures do not do it justice. You have to go find out for yourselves.

The thing about Brian Head is that it is a real mountain bike course – not one of those pansy “let’s ride the sandy path next to the highway” courses. There is no pre-riding this course. It is a huge loop of – so long I have forgotten the mileage. It is also really tricky in some spots and the altitude-8,000ft to 11,000 ft plus- will take a swipe at the sea level lungs. I had a tough start to the race which includes a five mile grueling climb on pavement and fire roads. Later, I picked off about 5+ chicks that had dropped me during the climb. The expert men were sent out after the pro women and some of them started catching us – ok me. Most were behaving but one I had to tell off. The big jerk was yelling meanly at me to pull off in the middle the most technical descent. Where I was to move to I am not sure. Keeping it PG let’s just say I let him have a piece of my mind. Miffed, motoring and hanging on by an altitude induced exhausted thread I managed to finish 37th. I learned a great lesson too – finishing is the key because you can never second guess who will have a mechanical or crash out of the race. And several of the top pro women did just that.

The short track race was not my finest moment. And it was just a moment. KABOOOM! That was my legs and the sound resonated to each continent. I blew hard after the 2nd lap. They had the 1st two laps designated as "hot" laps to win dough and the pace was set pretty high. I did really awesome picking my way through the crowds and turns and finding great lines, but I could not hold everyone off. I had no legs and was pulled after 3 laps. I finished 33rd. I was cooked.

Headin’ East Snowmass, CO August 12-13, 2006

As Stephen and I were heading to our new home in NY we decided to make one more stop for the National Mountain Bike Series Finals held in Snowmass, CO. We laid low in Lakewood, CO with my aunt and uncle who were gracious to take us in for a few days before and after the race. We also took some time to visit some of the old trails and friends.

We did a "fun" ride up Mt. Falcon before the race. For some odd reason I thought I was going to be a stellar rider-being pro and all I thought I had the schnizzle to storm the hill. I was coughing, gasping and almost falling over from lack of O2 and pure race fatigue. It was two hours of torture. Plus it was wicked hot. And 80 degrees in Colorado feels like 100 degrees in California. It was so much fun being back in Colorado.

We headed to Snowmass the day before the race so I could check out the race course for a pre-ride. Thunderstorms made it difficult to get out and see the whole cross country venue. One of my race buddy roomies and fellow pro, Caroline, was a terrific race course guide. It sure was a pretty course and real mountain bike trails too! Yeehaw!

For the cross country race, I also had my own Colorado cheering section. Friends Cindy, George, Brittany and Conner made the trek to see me race. It was cool to have them there-it made me feel extra special. I was ready to get on with the race. It was the last of the season and I was going to make the most of it. However, the body was not arguing. Maybe I should not have hit the trails after Brian Head and saved some energy. Sometimes you just don’t figure these things out until you’re in the middle of them. Lungs burning, threatened by thunderstorms and legs shredded I mustered up the rest of my reserves and finished 41st.

The next day the short track event was a very interesting course. It was similar to Nationals- meaning there were a few BMX –type burms. The kick in the pants was the hairpin turn and lung busting climb afterwards. I did a great job in the beginning but it felt like someone kept holding tighter onto my rear wheel for each lap. I had nothing left in the legs or the lungs and I was happy to stay upright. Fortunately I was pulled just before the thunderstorm. Without waiting to see where I finished we bolted down the mountain back to Lakewood, CO-finding out later I finished 43rd.

All in all, I accomplished a lot for my first season of mountain biking as a pro. I would not have been able to get through it without my biggest supporter, my hubby. Without him, I would have never imagined getting this far with cycling. I can only hope that 2007 season will be just as fun and exciting.

ALLEZ, ALLEZ!! World Cup Mt. Ste. Anne, QB 6/25/2006

After tackling the most difficult US National Mountain Bike Series cross country course in Vermont, I thought I was ready for the most difficult course on the World Cup circuit: Mount Sainte Anne in Quebec, Canada. I was excited about this trip for several reasons: I was going to race against the best mountain bikers in the world, I was going to dust off my French speaking skills and put them to good use, I was going to visit yet another beautiful part of the world with my hubby and some of my Southern California race buddies were going to be there too-Teri Strayer and Christie Pleiss (see the picture of us just before the race). There was so much to look forward to.

My husband and I arrived at the mountain a couple of days before the race so that I would be able to get some saddle time in on the race course. The mountain had been pummeled by rain storms. I was not quite sure what the 6km course was going to be like. Pre-riding the course there were sections that were already lined with spectators because they were some gnarly root, rock and mud drop offs. I do not perform dangerous moves well in front of an audience so I walked a bunch of those sections. One of the descents was ankle-deep mud that I skated down on my feet trying not to lose my bike. Luckily one of the course marshals told me that he had yet to see anyone actually ride it – that made me feel so much better. Then one section I tried riding I ended up hugging the padded telephone pole and my bike went elsewhere. Yikes!

Race day was arriving quickly and I was ready for a good night’s sleep. It was Quebec’s holiday, Saint Jean-Baptist, and much to our dismay the all night party was stationed right across from our condo. The speakers were pointed directly at our place and deep bass shook the rooms – after inquiring at the front desk, the party was to last until 6AM and the place was booked solid so we could not change rooms. We hightailed to a quiet establishment down the road.

After a peaceful night’s rest, I was ready to race. It was a warm day, but most of the course was in the trees. Launching off the start line, we were sent around a spectator loop. The extra start section was great for me since I was called up toward the back of the pack – I did not have any World Cup points to be ranked yet. I crept my way up, passing almost a dozen racers. I was feeling awesome! Hitting the first bit of single track and then the first descent was bottlenecked. I made it half running, half riding down the first technical section and dropped my chain – not once, but TWO times. Losing time putting my chain back on, I was almost the last person because the course marshal on the motorcycle who sweeps the last rider was so close I was choking on exhaust fumes.

This five lap 6km course was like a short track race. I knew I had to get back on track and start catching riders because the officials would start pulling racers in jeopardy of being lapped. I was feeling good and I started reeling racers in that had passed me while I was fixing my chain. The crowds were amazing – the most I have ever seen at any mountain bike race. They lined both sides of one of the climbs cheering everyone on – calling out racers by their names-even my name! I felt famous! It was exhilarating.

Flying down a hill and back up the other side of a short, blind power climb I almost ran over the line of race officials blocking the course. Two laps and I was being pulled out of the race. Wicked bummer! My legs were ready to keep going. I finished 70th out of 81 starters. Just having the experience of racing in a World Cup event made it worthwhile.

Zoom, Zoom! NMBS#3 ST Mount Snow 6/18/2006

Racing at Mount Snow in West Dover, VT rounded out with the Short Track race on Sunday afternoon. After having a hearty Father’s Day breakfast with my dad and grandmother, it was an agonizing wait for the race. With a full belly and three races in a week’s time, I was ready to lounge around like a fat bear that had just gorged itself on a beehive.

To burn some time before the race I decided it would be a good idea to clean my stinky mountain bike. It took me a good hour to get the mud- which I am not too certain was mud - off my bike. It was a mess from yesterday’s cross country race. The bugs in Vermont are veracious and it did not take long before they found most of my exposed skin while I was outside scrubbing. Now I know why the trail marshals during the cross country race had on hats with nets that covered them to their shoulders.

Warming up for the race I could not seem to get my legs moving. My legs felt like water logged wood. It was difficult to get through my warm-up exercises so I cut the drills a little short and decided to go out and pre-ride the short track course to see what I was going to be facing for the 20 minute suffer festival.

The course was pretty dry with one giant mud puddle. It started out with a false flat and then a short jaunt of a dusty climb and then a speedway down a grassy hill with a couple of “12 stitch dips.” (I have coined these narrow ditches “12 stitch dips” from awhile back when I hit one of them hard, going over the handlebars, landing on my chin and needing 12 stitches.) After the speedy descent there was the giant mud puddle followed by a short power climb, another short descent, a hairpin left turn and a sprint to through the finish line.

While pre-riding, the kids were having their races and I rode around trying to encourage them. I helped one little girl back on her bike after she crashed just before the finish line and then escorted another one back to her dad after a lap because she felt like she was going to “throw up” and wanted to stop. It sure is great watching these kids try out racing. Now I know that all racers go through what I have endured.

Finally, the pro women were called up to the start line. Chrissy, my teammate, (see the photo of us before the short track race in North Carolina) told me we had to do one more lap than last weekend. This meant finishing five laps before being pulled from the race. As usual, I took my spot in the back of the pack. Although I was not the last one, I was pretty darn close. I had to think fast about my strategy to move up. I needed to be aggressive without crashing or taking anyone out so that I could fulfill my promise to Chrissy to do at least five laps.

The gun went off and it was a big zooming dust cloud of racers. I darted to an outside line and then cut back in for some real estate on the climb. I passed a bunch of women right away. There is so much energy at the short track racers. The crowds are really into it and the racers know that a lot needs to be accomplished in a short period of time so the adrenalin is spilling out of everyone. I was feeding off of the cheers from the family and friends that were there. It was so awesome to have another big cheering section like in North Carolina.

Breathing hard with my mouth gaping wide open, my mouth and throat got a nice coating of dust. But I found myself focused and racing strong Much to my surprise I was feeling better than I did during my warm-up. I kept going as hard as I could to stay on the wheels of the racers just in front of me. Part of it was for drafting purposes, the other part is that I wanted to get in as many laps as I could before the leaders caught me and lapped me.

I was hanging on by a thread by my fourth time through. I knew that if I did not close the gap between me and the racer in front of me I was going to get pulled. I powered up to her and hung on to her wheel. I made it through! The officials let me go through for another tour! Yippee! My head was down and I drifted far to my left almost running into the barricades. I was fading. I kept pushing to just stay on the wheel in front of me for as long as my legs were able to endure the pain.

Closing out my fifth lap I was finally pulled from the race. The leaders were fast approaching. I finished in 37th place, but it was the best short track race for me both mentally and physically. I pushed myself to new limits physically and I am figuring out what the best strategy is for me for this type of race. I will work my way up to being called up to the start line so I am not cleaning up the back of the pack.

Thank You Webster Elementary School!

For the last three years I have spent Thursday afternoons at Webster Elementary School volunteering for Miss Eimer and her fabulous Third Grade Classes. I have treasured the time I have been able to spend with each class and its students. It is wonderful to have an enthusiastic group of kids who are as passionate as I am about biking. Just look at them as they chase me across the school yard after talking to them about bike racing!


As I move on I will surely miss the students cheering, “Miss Meggan’s here!” each time I entered the classroom and being able to help them with their school projects, but most of all I will miss their thoughtful and inquisitive spirits. Thank you for a very rewarding experience!

Thunk!: NMBS#3 XC Mount Snow 6/17/2006

After a few days recuperating in Upstate New York with my family, my husband and I made another road trip further north to Vermont. The third USA National Mountain Bike Series was in beautiful and weird West Dover, VT at the Mount Snow Ski Resort. The scenery explains why Vermont is called the Green Mountain State and I think the lack of sunshine during the long winters may explain the goofy flair of the local residents.

My husband was not going to be able to stay for the cross country race. It is rare that he has missed any one of my races. But it was important for him to attend a special family event in Massachusetts instead. Anticipating that he was not going to be there was making me nervous. He is my biggest fan and gives me the moral support I need to remain somewhat calm around race time. Without him there the night before the race I did not sleep very well. But I was surrounded by great energy and support from my family and friends to race 3 laps of a very technical 5.5 mile loop.

A large family contingent arrived in VT for their first adventure as mountain bike race spectators and I tried to get everyone settled. Early in the morning before the race I gave them a tour the main race area, feed zone and spectator spots. I also enlisted them to help me prep for the race and to hand me water bottles and gels in the feed zone. In cross country races, competitors may only take water bottles and food from specified feed zones or they will be disqualified from the race.

Warming-up for the race, my legs were feeling a bit tired. I was hoping that I would be able to acclimate into the race even though I was not feeling up to par from residual NC racing fatigue. My good results from the race in NC allowed for me to be called up to the start line somewhere in the middle. I was glad I was not going to have to fight my all the way from the back. Like NC, it was so cool to have family waving and cheering for me from the sidelines.

The gun went off and we all sped off for the first short climb. There were about 60 racers and it was not a good scene at the first technical root and rock section. Although I had started in the middle of the pack, I was held up by a train of racers who had dismounted and were walking through sections of the course that I was able to ride through easily a couple of days earlier in a pre-ride. This was incredibly frustrating since I could not find a way to either ride or run my bike around the crowd.

After meandering through the trees, over roots and rocks, we descended through some double track of mud and rocks and then climbed some single track as far as legs would pedal. This included a hike-a-bike section that did not seem to end. I know many racers were able to clean this area with some effort, but for me and many others it was a difficult section. My heart felt like it was going to pop out of my chest just trying to ride it. The course led us through more climbs and difficult descents. There was no room to hide, pass or take a break. And some of those who tested their limits were not so lucky. One gal I passed was receiving medical attention for a broken hand. It is considered the toughest course on the circuit by the top pros.

I made it through the first lap wondering if I was every going to recover from breathing so hard. The rain that had soaked the area for the previous six weeks made a lot of the sections greasy with mud. I was having flashbacks to competing at Sea Otter in April. I knew after this race I would be at the bike wash for a while.

Coming through for a second lap I yelled to my Uncle in the feed zone, “Shower!” This means he had to take the top off the water bottle so I could douse myself with the water to cool off. He executed this duty perfectly. I was off for a second lap, feeling refreshed and ready to go. I did much better on the climbs in the second lap, but on the descents I got a little sloppy. And I kept taking the same silly lines as I did in the first lap in the downhill technical sections that led me straight into trees or deep puddles. The pro men, who were also racing, started catching and passing the women. Only a handful of them were pleasant enough to let me know they needed a room to pass (which I was glad to give them) and the rest were overly aggressive sneaking up on me with a few almost knocking me off my bike.

For my final lap I was geared up but needed some energy to keep me going. I shouted to my Uncle, “Gel and shower!” He already had two bottles in his hand and looked confused. He handed me a gel and I held the packet in my teeth and promptly held out my hand for the water bottle. All of a sudden I feel water streaming through my helmet, in my eyes and down my back. To my surprise, my Uncle was taking care of the shower part. Letting the water drain off my helmet I kept riding. Then all of a sudden I feel and hear, “THUNK!” He had tossed the water bottle and it hit my helmet. Later I found out that he figured that by tossing the water bottle the remaining water in the bottle would finish off my shower. It did not work. Someone else in the feed zone jokingly called out, “Line foul.” My poor Uncle thought he got me disqualified from the race. From now on, my family will not pass on any opportunity to torment him for many years about his feed zone skills. Sadly pictures are unavailable since our camera battery died.

Fortunately, I finished the race without any more incidents or a concussion! Although I placed 44th in this race, I am happy with how I raced. Each of my lap times was consistent and I was becoming much better with the east coast root and rock trails. I will only get better with more experience and time.

Hurricane of Pain: NMBS#2 ST Sugar Mountain 6/11/2006

Part Two of the Showdown at Sugar Mountain in Banner Elk, NC was the Short Track race on Sunday. It turned out to be a really warm day. Rolling around on my bike in the expo area I felt the sweat dripping down my back – it was like being in a sauna with all my clothes on. My husband saw Geoff Kabush, a top pro rider, sporting an ice vest to stay cool during his warm-up laps. It was going to be a challenging 20 minute gut wrenching race in the heat.

I set out to warm-up on my trainer with plenty of time to get a really solid spin. I had it made in the shade until I unnecessarily let my mind wonder and somehow plenty of time turned into a compact warm-up. I had psyched myself out into thinking that I had less time than I had originally planned. Racing does crazy things to the brain. Then the race ended up starting about 15 minutes later than scheduled. So I rode around the roads near the start line to stay warm in the thick muggy air that had engulfed the area.

Finally, the race course opened up and the field of women was allotted two practice laps before the call up to the start line. I took just one easy lap because earlier in the day I was able to check out the course and felt familiar enough with the twists and turns. All the other racers were buzzing around me like neurotic drivers on the Los Angeles freeways. Since this was going to be my second short track race ever, my strategy was to conserve energy prior to the race. Sea Otter was the only other short track race I have done – and with all the mud at that one I was off my bike more than on it so it did not give me a good idea on what to expect.

As usual, I was one of the last handful of competitors called up to the start line. In short track the back of the field is a difficult position to begin a race. It would mean I would have to work super hard and make aggressive moves without ejecting my lungs out on the race course during the breakneck start. There is no room for mistakes.

The race began and the first right turn was a jumble of bikes, dust and people who may have never ridden in a pack before. Everyone was fighting for a better position. It was messy. I did my best to grab on to a wheel, draft and move up. The next turns were tough. It was a short stiff climb and then a bit of an S curve through trees, mud and gravel, followed by a super fast descent through the grass, a tight right then left jog through some slick mud, up another short hill, a final hairpin turn and sprint past the start/finish line. This race was going to last 20 minutes plus three final laps for the leaders.

The first lap was complete but my legs were no where to be seen. I was struggling to hang on. I also was getting caught behind racers who were starting fade. One of them slipped off her bike unharmed on one of the turns, making it difficult to get around her. I could not believe how hard my heart was pumping and how small my lungs felt as I gulped for air. Pushing myself from pain to numbness back to the ecstasy of why I love racing my legs kept turning the pedals around the course.

On my fourth lap, my body finally acclimated to the pressure it was under to perform so quickly. I was actually starting to feel good – in fact a bit spry. I was able to stand up and push through the short steep climbs. I was gaining ground and even started passing some women. Everything started coming together and then I was pulled from the race because I was in danger of being lapped by the race leaders. I was so bummed. The whole race lasted 12 minutes for me…..who knew I could have so much fun in such a short period of time!?!

For this race I finished 36th. I just need to practice, practice and practice. Once I have the opportunity to participate in more short track races, I will get better. All in all, it was great weekend of racing. But being surrounded by family and friends in North Carolina to support and cheer me on was the best race food to keep me going.

Connect the Dots: NMBS#2 XC Sugar Mountain 6/10/2006

The USA National Mountain Bike Series continued with the Showdown and Sugar Mountain in Banner Elk, NC. My husband and I made the long, hot and tedious drive from Southern California to North Carolina in three days for this race. We almost melted in Arizona and Texas with temperatures peaking at 111 degrees Fahrenheit. Arriving in North Carolina, we had a few more brain cells than the average zombie. But we sure did welcome the cabin that my extended family so generously let us crash in for a couple of days before we headed up to Sugar Mountain for the race chaos. The view from the balcony of the Blue Ridge Mountains was gorgeous- take a look for yourself!

The hour drive from the cabin to Sugar Mountain did not seem so long after spending 12 hour days in the car driving cross country. We took the opportunity to pre-ride the race course during some rain storms. The loop was 6.6 miles of a punishing long climb up to 5300 feet and a tricky descent with lots of rocks and roots. The rain had made the roots and rocks wicked slippery and even though I had some monster truck tires on my bike I was still sliding all over the place. Plus, Southern California desert riding does not provide similar training options. My lack of practice in these tight technical sections showed. I felt like a beginner, not sure what lines to take and a little spooked with my last race crash fresh in my mind. I was trying to figure out how I was going to manage three laps through the trees with wrapping my bike or myself around one.

On race day, my warm-up did not go very well. It seemed like my legs were stuck in cement. I did not feel very powerful and my energy levels were not anything near being the Energizer Bunny. Figuring this was my first race in about a month, I decided to focus on the mental game plan: HAVE FUN. Once again, since I have just started out on the pro circuit, my ranking gives me a spacious spot at the back of the pack. I almost had all the racers in view. At the start, instead of fighting my way through to the front, I decided to take my time and ride into the race.

My plan worked. I worked my way up in the race. On the first lap, I was passed at the base of the climb by several racers hammering their way up the hill. I paced myself nicely to pass several people toward the end of the climbing sections. However, some of these chicks are really smooth in the technical descents and sailed past me. Putting on my brave face, I tried to ride as much of the descent as I could possibly muster on my first lap. I dropped my chain twice and I only crashed once with my bike flying over my head. Luckily, I caught the bike out of the corner of my eye and made a run for it so it would not land on me.

On the second lap, I powered back up the hill. I was starting to feel surprisingly well. My legs were warmed up and some of the racers who passed me on the descent I was now catching on the climb. In these racing moments when I get into a groove I sometimes have songs that appear in my head out of nowhere. For this race I was entertained by the no longer kid-friendly Pee Wee Herman’s Playhouse song “Connect the dots. La, la, la.” Over and over and over and over and over and over again in my head. I am not sure if I pedaled faster to get the song out of my head or if I was really enjoying the melody. Reaching the downhill section a second time, I decided to not fiddle around with getting on and off my bike and just run it. Running it seemed to take a lot less time than crashing all the way down.

However, when the climb for my third and final lap began, my right inner quad muscle seized up. Oh the pain! I kept riding and punching the cramped part of my leg to make it go away. Downshifting to an easier gear, I kept pedaling through it. I was not going to get off the bike because that would ensure I would not get back on again. It helped to have a mini drum corps in the middle of the climb to provide a beat to pedal to and to distract me. For the final descent I had some gumption and tried to ride more of the technical sections than run them. I was having trouble holding a good line and kept getting tossed. Playing it safe, I rode only the areas I felt super confident and ran the rest. Later I found out that my handle bars had loosened and were twisted about 10 degrees to the left. Ooops! I guess maybe some of my downhill skills were not too terrible.

Barreling through to the finish line I was pleased with my performance. It was the first time in a month I felt happy to be racing. My burn-out rehab was complete! I also managed to reel in a 30th place finish which means I am closer to finishing in the top half of the race field.

Urban Racing: NMBS#1 Southridge 5/6/2006

The USA National Mountain Bike Series kicked off at Southridge Park in Fontana, CA. I was happy that for this race I would not have to travel far. Sleeping in my own bed, eating out of my own refrigerator and not having to wonder what a stain on the floor is from are just a few of the perks of not having to stay in a hotel.

One would think that a race close to the home turf would be a plus. However, I am not fond of the Southridge Park race course. Fontana (or “Fontucky” a name the local mountain bikers jokingly call the area) is also not a vacation destination – unless of course you just got out of jail. I think the city has been featured on the TV show Cops on more than one occasion and it was evident why on race day. While I was warming up for the 3 lap/21 mile course I had to move my trainer set-up because a group of people decided that the park was an optimum place to do drugs. Not cool.

My warm-up went fairly well and I rolled over to the start line and waited for the announcer to call up each racer. Since I have just started out on the pro circuit, my rankings do not allow for a good spot on the start line. I was located way in the back. I knew it was going to take some work to get around the racers because the start of the course was narrow with tight turns for at least the first half mile until it opened up on the short pavement hill climb.

Just as we were sent off, there was a wreck. A bunch of ladies crashed and went down to my left. I motored around them trying to stay with the front pack as best as I possibly could. Then we approached the short sandy steep 50 foot climb that a lot of women lost momentum on and fell off their bikes. Unfortunately, one racer who was falling decided to grab on to my bike and knock me off. I had to “ask” her to get off my bike. I was not pleased.

The first gauntlet was completed and I tried to find a rhythm. Little did I realize until days, ok honestly a week later, that I was thoroughly burned out. I have been racing steady since February without much of a break and I was having a very difficult time finding the energy to will myself through the race. I really wanted to be excited because this was my first NORBA event as a pro.

Anyhow, for the first lap of the course it was a question of whether or not I was going to be able to finish. I have quit one race in my entire career of racing and it was because my bike was busted. Even though I have a pact with myself to finish every race that I start no matter what, I felt myself sliding to the dark side. But I pushed the demons aside and fought my way through the first seven miles.

For the second lap, I felt much better. The course was getting pretty beat up and some of the sandy sections on the first lap had huge ruts in them by the second pass, becoming unrideable. I was working hard to maintain a good pace. It felt good to have my husband out there cheering me on and giving me nice cold water bottles to keep me cool as the temperature continued to rise during the mid-day race. The pro men who were sent off before the women were starting to lap the women’s field. These guys need to give the Expert and Sport men racers lessons on manners during a race. The pro men were polite and did not try to run me off the trail when they wanted to make a pass. Yet, on this lap, it was a little unsettling going through a section of the course where paintballers congregate. Not only had they dragged an old car tire onto the course, but they were shooting their guns making me wonder if I was going to catch a paintball in the rump. It was even more unnerving when a band of them were marching up the fire road with huge paintball rifles all dressed in black.

Relief started overwhelming my body as I headed out for my third lap. I knew I was going to finish. That was the goal. I started to relax mentally, but my body was less forgiving. I started getting tight in my hamstrings and calves. Rolling through the pain was much easier than stopping because if I stopped it would be awhile before I would be able to get back on my bike again. I kept drinking water and ate an energy gel. I crashed several times going through rutted out sandy sections. These were great spots to go down since it was a fairly soft landing except the one that knocked the wind out of me. Once I made it through all the major climbs and I was on the home stretch, I grabbed my water bottle for one last guzzle.

On the fast straight away, with only ten minutes left in the race, I was desperately trying to maintain speed while putting my water bottle back in its cage on my bike. All of a sudden I was sliding down the hard packed gravel and sand next to the chain link fence on my right side, whacking my head hard. I rolled a few times telling myself to keep my eyes open and stay awake. I did not want to pass out. My tools had been tossed out of my jersey’s back pockets and I was bleeding-at that point I was not sure from where. I knew I had to get back on my bike fast before I had time to think about what had happened otherwise I would have been frozen my pain. So many racers passed me and only one guy asked me if I was ok but did not wait for an answer and kept going. I was too dazed to be mad.

I got back on the bike and tried to pedal only to find out that I had to get back off to put my chain on. Holding it together to the finish line I found Steve, my hubby, who took me to the first aid station. It was more than just ice packs at this first aid tent. The San Bernardino paramedics were very nice and did a great job. I cracked them up when they asked what happened by responding “I was just riding along…doin’ nothin’… and then there was these two dudes…” (If you have worked in a hospital emergency room, as a police officer or as a paramedic it is imperative to find the “two dudes” responsible for all the mayhem and figure out what “really” happened.)

After assessing the damage, my bike held up and I was full of cuts, scrapes and bruises. I had a good amount of road rash on my shin, hip and my entire right arm with a serious wound on the knee. My knee looked like I landed on an egg slicer. The worse part was getting home to thoroughly clean up. It took over an hour to get all the dirt out of my knee. The best part was that nothing was broken. Even better, I finished 46th out of more than 60 racers even with my terrible crash I was not last!

Sadly, I was in no shape to compete in the Short Track race the following day. Now I am almost healed. I am down to one small band aid and one big one for my knee. It probably would have healed sooner if I had not crashed on the same knee a week later. I think I see a knee guard in my future so I can get back on the mountain bike again.

Brimstone of Firestone Walker 4/30/06

Firestone Walker is a staple on the southern California race calendar. Arriving groggy and with car legs the day before at the Los Olivos vineyard to pre-ride the course, we were greeted with a balmy mid-60’s and fog. The countryside was beautiful, without a hint of mud and it was perfect conditions for riding. Since I blew through another fork/shock a couple of days earlier, I was eager to test out my new Fox fork. I enjoyed taking a leisurely tour around the cow paths and fire roads with my hubby. Later, we filled up at the pasta feed and on fun conversation for dinner. Stephen had signed up for the marathon, 75 miles or 5 laps and needed all the nourishment he could get. He is the king of working the buffets and was able to use his charm on the buffet crew for another plate of food while everyone else who asked for seconds was turned away.

Sunday morning I was more nervous than Stephen was – not for me, but for him. We got up early to send him off a little before 8am. It was gorgeous weather. The hills were enveloped in mist and the air was cool. I was praying that countryside would be able to hold on to the coolness for my 30 mile race starting at 1pm. After setting up Stephen’s self-serve feed and water table and watching him roll off the start line, I went back to the hotel to try and relax for a few hours before I needed to return to the venue and warm-up. Unfortunately, my stomach was not cooperating. Instead of relaxing I was sprinting to the bathroom every 15 minutes…..

I made it back to the race with squirrels doing the mamba in my stomach. While replenishing Stephen’s food station, I found out my teammate Brooke, who has embarked on her first race season, had wrecked and broken her wrist. I saw her at the first aid… I mean ice pack station because they did not even have a band aid to hand out. She was with her husband and we headed back to my car where I had a first aid kit. We used some wire mesh to temporarily splint her arm. Those of you who know me well, know that I am not very good with blood or broken body parts-mine or anyone else's. I get woozy. Somehow, I managed to hold it together enough to help Brooke.

The adrenaline rush from patching up Brooke gave me superhuman focus to get myself ready for my race. Well, focused on everything but sunscreen-unknowingly I got a sunburn on my back in less than 30 minutes while sitting on the trainer for my warm-up. Ouch! The morning fog had burned off and it was now a very muggy and a suffocating mid-70’s.

Anyhow, I found my way to the start line. I thought I was at the wrong race. The air was tense and edgy. I had to take a look around to make sure the women were on mountain bikes and not road bikes. Was this race going to be fun?

The best part about the start was being called up to the start line because I was in 3rd place overall for the California State Race Series. I was able to get a plum spot on the start line. After we were sent off we wound around the grassy spectator viewing area and made our way to the first hill climb. It was not quite like a road race, but it sure felt like it because we were all wheel to wheel. There was a lot of attitude being thrown around too.

My first lap around the course I was cruising. I was pushing hard trying to see if I could find new limits. I was able to maintain my ultra focus and bomb down the curvy bumpy cow paths and back up the double track. I kept a steady speed in fourth place with second and third place in clear view. And I saw Stephen too. He yelled to me from the sidelines that he had to quit after 50 miles because his legs seized up.

At the end of my first lap, I began to crumble with stomach problems. I was cramping really badly. I tried to stand up and stretch out, spin it out, do anything to make the pain go away. I succumbed to the persistent cramps on the climb and watched two racers pass me, Christie a SoCal buddy who now eats fire for breakfast and another gal I have not yet met. I was giving it everything I had to find a comfortable position just to stay with them.

Summiting the climb I was in for a big surprise. Out of no where appeared a huge bull (cow), blocking the path. He was not there on the first lap. So where did he come from? He was snorting, mooing and digging at the dirt with his front hoof as if he was going to charge. He did not seem happy. I gingerly went way off the path through the tall grass behind him hoping that he would not see me out of the corner of his eye and run after me or worse kick me with his hind legs as I went around him. I made it! Yeeeeeehaaaaaw!

Still, I ended up losing more time. Between the cow and the stomach issues, I lost sight of how far ahead everyone was. I kept drinking water and ate my energy gels to see if that would help to settle my belly. The tough part was passing by the rotting stagnant waterholes later on in the course. I thought I was going to lose my lunch. I managed to keep everything down and pushed through the rest of the race without anyone else passing me and finished in 6th place. Although I would have rather finished as strong as I had started out in the race, the good news is that even though I was not feeling stellar, I did have a faster time by a few minutes compared to last year’s race. The real question is what to eat? Maybe the pasta feed was not such a good idea……

“B” is for Bonelli 4/23/06

Sunday’s cross country mountain bike race of choice was at Bonelli Park in San Dimas, CA. It consisted of 2 nine mile laps, with 1,100 feet of climbing, and a classic mix of fire road, single track, double wide, a bit of mud and a tricky water crossing. The beginning of the course featured a moderate climb, overgrown with tall yellow spring flowers, while the back side of the loop was a stiffer climb and hike-a-bike section if you did not pick your lines right.

In previous years, Bonelli has been blazin’ hot. Luckily we were greeted with a nice cool day in the mid-sixties. For me, Bonelli was going to be a “B” race, or a race that is not my primary focus in the season. In other words, it is an expensive training ride that allows me to experience intensity that I would not be able to replicate out on the trails by myself. I was in the perfect mood for it: blah.

The weekend prior to the race, I pre-rode the course and encountered peanut butter mud that caked on my wheels and bike so badly my bike gained several extra pounds. There was also the festering water crossing with a nice blend of trash, trees and other terrible things. I was not looking forward to racing in similar conditions having just fought my way through Sea Otter’s mud festival and bike mechanicals. Also, I was not anticipating the best race conditions since it had rained the night before. But my bike was in better condition, sporting a new stealth black fork/shock.

Lining up at the start line the music was booming from the loud speakers. A bunch of us, Christie, Teri, myself and others, were bopping to the music waiting for the official to send us off. At the word, “GO!” we took off zigzagging through the staked out course in the grassy park, through some mud and up to the first single track climb. We had to dodge around a few of the men that were sent off before us and were not interested in letting us pass, causing a minor pile-up. I call these guys “huff daddies.” They try so hard to not be passed by women that they huff and puff and blow themselves up trying to block female racers and keep a fast pace.

My first lap was a slow grind. My teammate, Chrissy, spanked me on my bottom as she passed me. It was her bid to persuade me to get moving. I maintained my own pace, trying to keep everyone ahead of me in sight. I was still settling into the race and eventually lost sight of the leading women. I was happy with my technical performance. I comfortably cruised through the tricky water section and over technical obstacles. Fortunately, for the one nasty water crossing the promoters had built a bridge. Otherwise I think I would have needed a booster shot for diphtheria or medication for some other bacteria infection.

By the time I started on my second lap, my legs began to open up some more. I found a faster tempo without having to breathe too hard or burn up my legs. This lap was definitely my best and faster lap. However, it was too late to make up lost ground to catch and pass the four racers in front of me. That was a big bummer. But I was not breaking a sweat, based on a spectator’s comment, as I was winding up to bolt toward the finish line for 5th place. (Picture: Blabbing with the pro women after the race.)

Even though this was a “B” race, I made some big improvements. Sunday, I beat my previous time-I was faster by almost 19 minutes compared to last year’s race, I was only 7 minutes behind the winner and I battled through my blahs to for a strong finish. Based on this experience, I am sure the “B” races will only make me better.

Tweekin' Out! Sea Otter 4/9/06

STAGE FOUR: CROSS-COUNTRY Sunday, April 9, 2006

The fourth and final stage of the Sea Otter Classic was the cross country race. The women had a leisurely 1:10pm start time to ride on race course consisting of two 19 mile laps with about 2400 feet of climbing each lap, up short, steep climbs, on singletrack through the trees, rocks, sand, meadows and… you guessed it MUD! The day started out cool and cloudy and by race time it was drizzling.

As Tweek from South Park would say, "Aaargh! Too much pressure, I can't take it!!" I was nervous. We queued up in the spitting rain for the final thrill of the mud festival. I tried to tuck myself in the middle of the pack to stay warm and to find a good position. We started on the Laguna Seca raceway track up the famous Corkscrew to meet up with a bit of dirt. With a pack of mountain bikers on the road steering fat knobby tires we sounded like a swarm of bees launching an attack. I felt pretty comfortable in the pack, drafting, coasting and dodging wheels that suddenly braked.

I like playing in the dirt and once we turned off through the tight barricades onto the fire road I was back in my element. The racers were really aggressive. One started to push me off the road down the side of the hill- I pushed back. Then I proceeded to take myself out by riding my front tire into someone’s back wheel. Not one of my finer moments. Thankfully, it was a short climb. Then we bombed down a hill fast and furiously to meet up with the swooping singletrack through the trees. Low and behold a throng of rude expert men racers, who started after us, caught us and started passing. One of the guys dropped his chain and settled in to fix it in the middle of the trail. I kindly asked him to move his bike out the way. He proceeded to run me off the trail, slamming my left foot and catching his pedal in my front wheel bending my spokes. I was wicked mad.

Trying to shake it off, I got back on and kept riding. I was a car in the train of the expert men and pro women racers up a steep, greasy muddy trail. Another one of the rude expert men thought it was a good idea to pass me – where he thought he was going to go, I am not sure, we were wheel to wheel climbing up the hill. I was taken out again.

At this point I was pretty discouraged by the turn of events. I was just trying to keep the legs turning. I made it up the rest of the climb only to encounter two mud sections that wanted to suck my shoes off my feet. I battled through and met up with some more fire road. It looked like the climb was going to be endless. Death marches in riding usually do not occur until after a four or five hours of riding and when I have almost run out of water and I am craving chili cheese fries. Sadly, I was not even finished with my first 19 mile lap and I just wanted to be done with the race.

My pro southern California racer comrade, Christie, rolled up to me and gave me a pep talk about staying positive. Her energy was infectious. It was nice having company on such a miserable day. We crossed the start/finish line together and set off for a second lap. I wanted to make sure I had enough fuel so I started chomping on a Clif Bar. I shoved the whole thing in my mouth while I was trying to draft behind Christie back up the Corkscrew. Mud was flying off her wheel in my face while I attempted to close my mouth, looking like a chipmunk with energy bar chunks in my cheeks with buck teeth.

Once I got the food down, I felt a lot better. I pedaled on the downhill, caught some great speed and set off to finish the race strong. I did not care how much pain my legs were in. I mashed gears to get through the steep climbs. My whole attitude shifted. I was on a mission. When I got to the mud pits, I found my way around them so I did not have to battle the sloppy goo. It was at this point that I started catching and passing women who had ridden me off their wheels at the beginning of the race. I was starting to make a come back. It felt good.

Up on the fire road, my lower back started to hurt. It was a persistent ache and I could not figure out the cause. Ignore, ignore, ignore, the pain. Time to grind through and finish. Baaaaaaa! Yes, at the top of one of the hills a herd of sheep were there to greet me. I had to yell, “Stay!” to a brave one trying to cross the fire road. It listened. Then I started to think…..that was not mud! Eewwwww!

There still was a lot of climbing left. But karma does surprise you once in a while. Some of those expert tough guys were starting to drop like flies. I guess when you only carry one water bottle and do not have anything to eat for 38 miles, your legs start to cramp and you have to stop on the side of the trail to stretch or pedal really slowly. All my cylinders were fired up. I pushed through every section, slid around on some worn out muddy parts of the trail and put the hammer down once I got on the raceway. I was not going to let up until I crossed the finish line. Yippee! I finished and came in 43rd. And the back pain – turns out that I busted my front shock/fork again. So I had no give on the descents, taking all the jostling in my lower back.

These last four days were the hardest days of racing I have ever participated in. Sure I have been on teams for 24 hour mountain bike races. But nothing can compare to the length of these races, the world class competition and the intensity at each start line. Out of the 69 women who started, only 53 actually finished all four events. This experience has certainly prepared me for rest of the season’s events to be more mentally and physically resilient.

Rider in reverse! Sea Otter 4/8/06

STAGE THREE: SHORT TRACK Saturday, April 8, 2006

The third stage of the Sea Otter Classic is the short track race. Short track is similar to a criterium (see my San Dimas Stage Race posting to learn about criteriums). Basically, short track is on a short circuit on the dirt. The women were set to go off at 1:15pm and race for seven laps. Similar to the super cross race on Thursday, all riders in danger of being lapped would be pulled. All pulled riders will receive a finish time, plus a penalty. This was going to be my first short track race ever.

Bike Update: Luckily, the Answer/Manitou mechanics were able to put a new shiny squashed caterpillar green casting on my front fork so I would be able to reattach my front disc brake. The bad news was that the bike builder used the wrong length of bolts for my brake which may have caused the stripped threads. No big deal, I just had to hoof it across the Sea Otter festival grounds back to the SRAM tent to get more bolts and washers. Finally, my bike was put back together and in time for today’s race! Yeah!!

After getting my bike back in working order, I headed back to the car to relax and prepare for the short track event. My warm-up went surprisingly well. Last night when I went back to the hotel, my legs were seizing up. Yesterday I had not had an opportunity to do a cool down ride after the time trial because I was so focused on getting my bike fixed-then I did not have a bike to ride. So I learned the hard way the importance of doing a recovery ride after a race.

The short track start was a mass start. In the picture you can see the sea of helmets. Now where’s the squashed caterpillar green fork? If you found it, that’s me. Women were crashing and sliding all over the place right from the start. Since it rained yesterday from mid-afternoon through the night, the course was very soupy. I did a pretty good job picking my lines through the wrecks and sloppy riders until I got stuck behind Kelli Emmett on the Ford Cycling Team. She was taking a bad line in a grassy muddy downhill section and going slow-half riding, half walking her bike. I mistakenly thought she had picked a good path and followed. That set me back a few spots.

Quickly after that I found out that the course was much like a cyclo-cross aka “psycho-cross” course in my dictionary. Cyclo-cross is a type of racing where racers use road-type bikes with knobby tires and jump off their bikes in pre-determined sections to hop over knee-high barriers and then get back on their bikes and ride again. Ugh! I am not a fan of psycho-cross; bikes are made to be ridden, not carried. In this short track race there were two areas that you had to dismount. Again, I learned the hard way. I tried to ride some of the puddles to only find out that they were shin-deep bowls of squishy soupy mud that sucked half my front wheel in and took some force to pull my bike back out of. I had also stepped in it and almost lost my shoes trying to pull my feet out. Yuck! Backwards I went again as I watched racers go around me on each side.

Powering through other muddy sections took a lot of energy. Some areas I rode well and then others I just kept getting sucked into the mud bog trying to get around other racers. I felt like I was riding in reverse. My bike was accumulating mud and kept getting heavier on each lap. It was a struggle to hold it upright. I think I raced for three laps before being pulled by the officials because Gunn-Rita was hauling around the course without a hitch. I finished today in 50th place. I cannot wait until I have more pro racing experience under my belt so I can lap riders too. Until then, I will be at the bike wash cleaning the mud off my bike with Chrissy.

GRrrrrrraaaaaoooooorrrrrrrrr! Sea Otter 4/7/06

STAGE TWO: TIME TRIAL Friday, April 7, 2006

The second stage of the Sea Otter Classic is the time trial. The women were sent off at 30 second intervals on a 2-mile course within the confines of Laguna Seca. The day was sunny, bright and chilly.

Today was a day of race troubles. Again, I arrived early to figure out what time I would be heading out for the time trail. For some reason the promoters for this race have not been well-organized. They had two different overall start times posted for the women’s time trial and no individual times listed. I went from the registration booth to begging other team managers for information on the time trial individual start times. Either no one knew or and the rest were guessing. Finally, after a good 20 minute search, I ran into my race pal, Christie, and she hooked me up with good information. Phew!

Much to my dismay, figuring out start times was going to be the least of my day’s problems. I began my warm-up with my bike on the trainer. It was going well considering my legs were feeling a little overcooked from yesterday. My legs were starting to open up and I was getting mentally prepared to gut it out for the under 10 minute race. I was on my last hard effort and all off a sudden I heard a loud POP! At first I thought it was my front tire going flat. No worries-I…..no Stephen would be able to change that fast enough to get to the start line on time. But that was not the problem. I blew the seal on my front fork/shock! Yes folks, a brand new shock with less than five rides on it and I already broke it. Grrrrrraaaaaooooorrrrrr! It was not something that was going to be fixed in less than five minutes. So Stephen pumped it up and I went off to ride the race with a blown front shock and the fron disc brake dragging hard.

I got to the start line on time and busted a gut trying to go fast on the “2 mile” course. I think they shortened the course because everything was still so muddy and sloppy. My goal was to not burn my legs out too fast – give myself a little time and then let’r rip! Well, on a blown out shock pedaling hard was a lost cause, with a disc brake that was dragging I felt like I was trying to move a cement wall. Also, with no air pressure in the shock it was like riding a full rigid bike-something I have not done since my purple Jamis many moons ago. I came across the finish line a little less muddy than yesterday and hightailed it to the bike wash to get my ride prepped for another tour of a neutral support tent.

Today’s neutral support of choice was Answer/Manitou. They had me pull the shock off the bike and leave it with them for an overhaul. I was so happy that they were going to be able to fix it. Phew again! Several hours later I went back to pick it up and the nice mechanic told me that the factory had “forgotten” to put oil in it before shipping it. No worries, I was happy that it was good to go with time to put the bike back together and go for a short spin.

No dice. While Stephen was remounting the shock and the disc brakes, the threads were stripped and the front disc brake could not be reattached. Grrrrrraaaaaooooorrrrrr! I hopped in the car for another trip back to the Answer/Manitou tent to see what if anything could be done to save the day. The nice mechanic now has my squashed caterpillar green fork ready to rethread it and will help put the bike back together tomorrow morning. Hopefully, that will give me enough time to spare before the third stage. Yikes!

Mechanicals aside, I finished 55th today. I am not pleased with the results, knowing I can do much better. But what I am learning is that mountain bike racing throws many different types of obstacles in your way that you have to adapt to or learn how to deal with quickly without wasting too much energy. I am keeping my fingers crossed that tomorrow will be a better day-even though we are getting more rain. Grrrrrraaaaaooooorrrrrr!

Look Ma! I’m racing pro! Sea Otter 4/6/06

STAGE ONE: SUPER CROSS Thursday, April 6, 2006

The Sea Otter Classic is considered one of the top mountain bike stage races in the world, attracting top pro competition from numerous countries. The Super Cross event was the first stage of the four day stage race. It was a five lap/60 minute race on a 5-mile, half-dirt, half-road circuit which started and finished on Laguna Seca raceway. The best part was that I raced with the top pro women mountain bike racers, including Gunn-Rita Dahle-Flesja, 2 time world champion and Olympic gold medalist from Norway.

For my first world class event I wanted to be early to get the lay of the land, find where start lines were going to be, parking, etc. Although I arrived the day before the race to check in and to give myself plenty of time to spare, it was frustrating. Registration was being run like a bank – a lot of people milling about but only one person who was taking customers. It took a half an hour to get to the front to find out that they still did not have number plates ready. Sigh. When I arrived back at the registration booth several hours later the promoters had just finished using a sharpie marker to finish making the numbers. Classy.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, pre-riding a race course is key to creating my race strategy. However, the previous 48 hours of inclement weather made for a muddy, murky, messy and uninviting race course. Still, I needed to understand the terrain. I decided to take a slow lap on the course and came back to the car to finish my warm-up with a mud covered bike. Stephen, my hubby, was not too pleased. He takes very good care of me at races-drives me to races, helps me get my gear together and makes sure that everything is in working order. It was a mad dash to get the bike clean so I could warm-up and get to the start line on time.

Arriving at the start line was a little overwhelming; probably because I could not find a gate to get through the Laguna Seca raceway fence. Finally, I worked my way around to line up with the largest pro mountain bike field I have ever raced in: 69 women. There were a lot of familiar faces from the local California race scene and I felt at home.

At the whistle we were off up the raceway’s pavement climb to the top of the corkscrew. I stayed right in the middle of the pack to get the best drafting action. Although these women are pro mountain bikers, they race on the road like beginners. They do not have very good pack skills and some even wrecked before we hit the first dirt section of the course. Luckily, I made it through unscathed and was in the top half of the group for the first lap.

On the second lap, I found out that my legs were not cooperating. I had pushed it hard through the muddy sections, powering through everything. The course did not allow for any places to rest. The only breaks were on the paved sections and that was if I could find a wheel to draft behind. Needless to say, my legs decided they were in overdrive. I had to pull back a bit and lost a few places.

By the third lap I was able to reacclimatize to the race. I kept pushing myself hard to take bigger risks and more challenging lines through the thick sloppy mud. It paid off. I was able to reclaim a few spots that I had lost on the second lap. I kept hearing the race announcer shouting over the loud speaker how Gunn-Rita was getting faster with each lap. All I kept thinking was that I was not going to get lapped.

For the fourth lap I picked up the pace even more. I knew I had to if I did not want Gunn-Rita to lap me. Her lapping me would mean I was going to get pulled from the race and get a time penalty. I hit the muddy downhill section with force only to get sucked into a rut that I had to work even harder to pedal my way out of to the pavement. (See the picture of my muddy backside.) A couple of the women I was right with until that section were able to pull ahead and create gap. It was time to dig deep into the reserves to get back on their wheels. Once we hit the pavement, I was right with them again. I figured it was a good time to wipe some of the mud off my face, but there was so much mud all over my gloves and sleeves, there was not a clean spot of cloth in sight. Taking a drink out of my water bottle was also out of the question.

I crossed the start/finish line for my fifth lap with a sigh of relief. There was no way I was going to get pulled from the race now. We cruised up the corkscrew for one last jaunt through the mud. It may have been one of my better laps. I was relaxed knowing that I was still in the race and that it was almost over. I muscled through the mud and pushed my way back to the last pavement section to the finish. There were two riders ahead of me, my teammate Chrissy and someone else. I put my head down to try and catch them. With no wheels around me to draft off of, I was on my own, dangling in the wind. I finally made it to the finish-just a few seconds from catching the two ahead of me, finishing in 47th place for the day.

Today I learned that even though mud is not that bad to race in, it sure is hard to clean off. Take a look at the pictures at the finish line. I am surprised that my transponder relayed my time. What is more surprising is that I burned through my brake pads and had to have them replaced. Thank you SRAM neutral support for getting my bike back in working order!

Race Smarter NOT Harder: Sagebrush Safari 4/2/06

Meatheads don’t always finish well even in mountain biking. And for the most part, I have raced like a meathead, relying purely on my brute strength. Evolving to become a better racer means I need to take in account other factors. It was my goal for the first “real” race of the season to build a strategy that suited my other racing talents. For the 24 mile course with significant amounts of paved climbs, awesome carved out downhills and a perfect high-60 degree sunny day, I was up for the smart challenge.

Pre-riding the race course was definitely my first smart move. Going into the race, I knew what to expect on the course and where I needed to push myself, pace myself and where the nice view was to stop and have a picnic. The race started out much like a road race. The cool part about this year’s race season is that most of the gals I raced with last year also upgraded to Pro too: Christie, Teri, Mandy, and Chrissy. So we cruised off the start line with a fairly large group of women. It was a short fast section of single track to the first pavement hill climb.

Knowing the hill climb was going to be sustained, I decided to park my wheel behind one of the fast Pro chicks, Tomarra of the Trek team, and let her pull me along. Drafting is one of the finer techniques I have been able to carry over from road racing. I guess I was not stealthy enough because she decided to play with me. She pulled off to the side a little bit and slowed down to “adjust her shoes.” Then she took off like a shot and I missed the opportunity to get back on her wheel. At least I was able to draft a little more than half way up the hill before I hit more dirt, saving valuable energy.

Once I hit the fun swooping single track I kicked it into gear. You see, climbing is a good way to stomp out aggression and feel like you have accomplished something because you are sweating and your muscles are talking back. But going downhill wicked fast is what puts a smile on my face. My teammate, Chrissy Bono, was right there with me. I was pedaling out of the turns, hanging it out just enough so that I was not on the verge of wrecking. It was so exhilarating. We even caught and passed some scrawny girls who had zipped up the hill, but they did not have the strength to hold their wheels over the bumps on the downhill.

After picking off some of the competition, it was time to teach some of the men on the course a lesson. We easily passed a bunch of men only to be recaptured on the next dirt climb. Really, it was a hike-a-bike hill and I decided to put my meathead hat back on and muscle it up and over some rocks. Needless to say, I did not get far and I even fell over on my side trying to get off my bike to push it up the hill. My pride was hurt as the hairy-legs scrambled up the hill past me. I was breathing so hard trying to get air into my lungs that I thought I was going to crack a rib. Chrissy played it smarter and was elegantly off the front.

Fortunately, another downhill adventure was close at hand. Once I found the downhill fire road at the end of the single track, I jumped into my biggest gear and paced myself back up to Chrissy. I caught her just before the entrance of the infamous Mt. Pinos climb. In previous races, this climb has been a dirt fire road, now it is paved. It twists and turns for over a couple of miles. Once you think you have arrived at top you come around the bend to see that you have only made it part of the way. It is quite the mind game. Riding with Chrissy made it much more enjoyable. We cheered each other on as we passed the “hero” racers who were stretched out straight as boards cramped on the side of the road or others who were walking their bikes because they did not drink enough water or eat enough during the ride. The only thing that kept me going on the climb other than my hubby cheering me on, was meeting up with more awesome descents.

Finally, we turned off to make one of the last fun roller coaster free falls. The top portion was a little tricky. For the climb I had turned my rear shock off and now I was clumsily searching for it in my post-climb delirium. It is not a good idea to reach down underneath my top tube to flip the switch while maintaining high speeds. I bounced all over the place taking the most treacherous lines. I clanged my pedals so hard on rocks that my feet were shot right off the pedals. Poor Chrissy has a hard tail bike and suffered from following my scenic routes.

At the bottom of the descent there was one last paved climb. I looked back and Chrissy was no where in sight. Figuring I was about 15 minutes from the finish line I decided to use everything I had left on the climb. Initially, I thought my legs were feeling fresh. Then I banked a turn during a short descent in the middle of the climb and stuck out my right knee……I found out quickly that my right quad was full of trolls twisting knots into my muscles. I rode out the cramp reasoning that stopping would only intensify the rigor mortis.

It was a smart move. I recovered by the last fast and fun descent. I passed a tandem – now those folks are crazy. Here is a picture of one that was in the race, not the one I passed, but image being the back rider and going downhill? It is like sending a big Mac truck down a hill without brakes. After the tandem, I passed several other guys who were unusually polite about letting me pass them and flew to the finish line for 3rd place!

Making the podium on the first mountain bike race of the season feels awesome. It is definitely a confidence boost for the upcoming races.

My Fast says, “It IS about the Bike”

Ok you Lance Armstrong lemmings please don’t pummel me but sometimes it IS about the bike. Think about this: a great engine will only get you so far. For example, if you have 450hp engine in a Ford Fiesta running on Wal-Mart retread tires it does not matter how much horsepower you have: you are never going to win a race against a Porsche Carrera.

Friday, I was very fortunate to purchase my new mountain bike for the race season. Take a look at my new, sweet ride. It is a Titus RacerX with Avid Juicy Carbon Disc brakes, SRAM X.0 trigger shifters, Mavic Crossmax SLs, Fox Float RP3 rear shock, and a cool Manitou R7 SPV squashed caterpillar green colored front shock. All weekend I played on some fast, fun trails. The new bike is wicked responsive compared to my trusty five year old well-ridden Giant NRS1, which creaks and rattles like the old Paragon Park wooden roller coaster in Nantasket Beach, but still holds air in the severely dented tubeless rims.

Saturday we went to Sagebrush to pre-ride the race course for next weekend’s race with teammates Chrissy and Denton. The course reminded me of many trails I have been on in Moab, Utah – sandy with some slick rock and minor technical sections. However, we did ride on a lot more pavement than I would have liked. Apparently one of the major climbs that used to be a fire road is now paved. But the descent afterwards is swooping fast. I got lost in banking turns and pedaling through the downhill technical sections. I came out with a big grin on my face. It was the first time I have ridden a new bike without something falling off or breaking on the inaugural ride.

Today, Sunday, we took off for Rocky Peak in Simi Valley with local pro, Dorothy Wong, who knows everyone and anyone in the Southern California bike scene and friend JL. So what if my legs were a little toasty from yesterday’s ride. I was a kid in a candy store. I was having a blast. We climbed, climbed and climbed. It was well-worth the effort for the fun descent on the homestretch. I was riding over technical sections with ease that others had to walk. Nothing like a new bike to inject me with a dose of downhill mojo - now I am ready for the mountain bike race season that starts in just seven days!

More Road Racing: SDSR 3/17-19/2006

San Dimas Stage Race: Stage 1 Time Trial 3/17/06

Today was a series of firsts for me in road racing. It was my very first time trial race and the first time I have ever entered a stage/multi-day road race. A time trial is when riders are sent off in 30 second intervals to race against the clock as fast as their legs can pedal. The course for this race was a 3.8 mile hill climb up Glendora Mountain Road and I raced against both category 3 and 4 women.

Although mountain bike racing is similar to time trial racing, it was difficult for me to connect with today’s event. Since I had never competed in a time trial I was not sure how to prepare mentally-was it going to be similar to mountain bike racing? Also, I did not pre-ride the course so I was unsure what to expect physically-like what gearing I was going to have to use, how much I was going to drool on my handle bars and if I was going to have to stand up to pedal to push over steep parts of the road. Anyone I asked to gain more insight on time trialing kept telling me that they are painful events because you have to push yourself so hard without going overboard. So where was the line going to be for me?

I warmed up and went to the start line anticipating I would have to push myself hard and stay focused. I have a tendency to gun it from any start line so I made a deal with myself and my coach to hold off a little bit at the beginning to let my body acclimate to the race butterflies and the lactate acid that was pumping into my legs. (See the picture of me gingerly rolling out of the start gate.) In less than two minutes, I was able to bridge up to the first racer in front of me. That was a confidence boost because I did not anticipate I would catch up anyone, much less pass someone so quickly. So I pushed a bit harder to keep going. My legs were burning but I was not anywhere near my maximum. Sure, I was breathing hard and I came close to throwing up one of my energy gels I ate before the race. But I was holding back because I was not too sure where the end of the race was and did not want my legs to fall off before I got there. Still, I caught and passed total of six racers and was about 20 seconds from catching a seventh racer before crossing the finish line.

At the end of the day, I landed a 9th place finish out of 54 racers and 9th for overall classification. For my day of firsts, I am happy with what I was able to accomplish and anticipating that these road races are going to provide me with the preparation I need to start the mountain bike race season. I also learned that I will need to take every opportunity to pre-ride race courses so I can be better prepared.

San Dimas Stage Race: Stage 2 Road Race 3/18/06

Stay focused. That was today’s goal. I have trouble staying focused during a road race. In the past I have quickly lost interest and fallen off the pack to take in the scenery. It could be that there are not enough potholes or debris on the road to peak my interest or it could be that my past experiences with the culture of road racing are not fond memories.

I did my usual warm-up with my legs feeling a bit tight from yesterday’s time trial. It took some effort to make sure my legs would be opened up just enough for the start of the race while leaving some reserve energy for the 5 lap/35mile course.

For the first lap I tapped into my usual strategy which is to attack right from the beginning. I thought I was being good at holding back until at least the first 5 minutes of the race. It was my attempt to see if I could break up the women’s field. I gunned it up some of the short hills at the beginning of the lap thinking maybe a group of us could break off from the pack and work together for a stellar finish. I do not have very much road racing experience under my belt, but I sure have a lot of dreams.

Anyhow, I spent most of the first lap up in front, towing the field. I paid for it on the next lap. My legs were feeling really tired and tight. It was as if someone was driving knives into my quad muscles. There was a long steep hill with a section of brick that killed my momentum each time I went over it. On the second lap, I was not too sure I would stay with the pack. I started pack drifting so far back that I had to sprint on the downhill to catch back onto the front group. Then we hit the false flat toward the start/finish line with a headwind. I dug deep into my reserves for energy to stay with everyone.

For the third lap, I tried to stay a little bit further back from the front to take a rest. I managed to draft behind some of the other riders and catch my breath and regroup. This lap was the toughest to maintain focus. It was a crucial moment for me to decide whether or not I was going to finish with the front group of racers or to drop back and finish the race on my own or with other dropped riders that might catch me. I had to ignore the persistent pain in my legs and make my mind take over. I struggled to stay on the front as they started to create a gap from the rest of the riders on the last descent. I turned it on enough to bridge back up to them and get to the front to do a lead out for my teammate, Tina, for her to win the sprint for a time bonus.

A mental breakthrough! The fourth lap I talked myself into hanging with the front of the pack. I was thankful that I pushed myself just a little harder because at the beginning of the fourth lap the field was neutralized to let one of the men’s groups through. So we all slowed down. Initially, I thought I would just “hang out” and enjoy the ride for this lap so that I would have enough juice for the last lap. But once again I thought the field was going too slow so I hauled myself back up to the front and started picking up the pace. I never said I was a patient person. I did drift back a little and maintained a top five position.

On the last lap, one racer decided to take a flyer and try to get away. Surprisingly, I had enough energy to work with a couple of the other racers to reel her back in. She was not satisfied with her break and she kept putting pressure on the group to go faster. We were going at a really good clip until the final climb. The men’s category 4 field caught us and we were once again neutralized to let them go by us. It was pretty precarious, especially over the brick section of the road. Once they zoomed by, the pace picked up again and I went back out to the front on the false flat to dig in for a lead out for my teammate to the finish line. The pack started to sprint for the finish and all of a sudden we were scattering like a bunch of pigeons. The men’s category 4 field that had passed us had several guys who crashed just before the finish. There were bikes all over the road and one of them was broken in half. Water bottles, bodies, a stopped car and a motorcycle were all in the way. The course refs were so shell shocked by the wreckage that they just stared at it. Everyone but my Good Samaritan hubby, Stephen, was unsure what to do. He helped to pull people off the course, leaving with bloody sneakers (Renee's March 18th Post) from the carnage. I picked my way through the melee and crossed the finish line and finished 12th out of the 44 racers left in the race and 10th for overall classification.

San Dimas Stage Race: Stage 3 Criterium 3/19/06

Let’s get the show on the road-I am ready to go mountain biking! Today was the last day of the stage race. The event was a criterium (or crit) which is a loop less than one mile raced on for a specified period of time. My group was slotted for an 8:30am start time and a 25 minute race in the city center of San Dimas. We would have the course to ourselves, without the crash-hungry category 4 men to mess it up.

While warming up for the race I could feel the fatigue in my legs. I was not too worried because I figured that the other racers felt similarly. Also, I have done enough 24 hour mountain bike races to know that toward the end of the event it is time to push through the fatigue to the finish. The kicker was arriving at the start line for the crit and being told that there was a 30 minute race delay because the promoters were waiting on the truck with the rest of the cones to lay out the course and that they had to have a car towed that was on the race course. We all started taking laps around the course to try and stay warm. It was good to have some practice since there were six corners that could be dangerous if you did not pick your line carefully.

Finally, we were staged to be called up to the start line. This was my favorite moment. They called up the top 10 racers to the start line. Since I was 10th for overall classification I had my name blasted over the loud speakers. It was really cool. We then waited another 5-10 minutes for the car to get towed and the official finally blew the whistle for us to start racing.

Once again, I shot off the start line and hammered to the front. (See the picture of me with only one other racer on board to follow my wheel-Monique-she is a fellow mountain biker too.) I was so cold from standing at the start line that I was shivering involuntarily and I just wanted to race to warm up. Also, with all the sharp corners I wanted to make sure I had first dibs on the best line. I towed the field around the course for the first lap.

For the next couple of laps, I drifted toward the middle and the back of the front group in hopes for a brief break. But the racer with the sprinter’s jersey for the event decided to maintain my killer pace. For the crit we averaged just over 28 mph. I was determined to stay with the group because I wanted to make sure I could get up to the front to do another lead out for my teammate, Tina, who wanted to win the last time bonus.

Finally, I was able to slide up to the front. I snuck in on the right side and parked myself in the front row. I did not have enough momentum or energy to provide a quality lead out so I figured I could block the other racers just enough to give Tina a little extra edge. Low and behold it worked! She was able to take off like a shot and since no one could get around me she won the final time bonus.

With 15 minutes left in the race one would think that the pack would slow down and start conserving energy for the final sprint finish. No one had any intention of slowing down in this race. If someone backed off the pace slightly another racer took her place and kept the field moving.

The sprint finish was fast and furious. Everyone was pedaling hard for the line. I do not have a lot of experience or practice with sprinting- I am like a diesel engine so it took me a little while to ramp it up. Still, I finished 14th in the crit and was able to maintain my 10th place overall classification for the stage race.

I am very happy with my results. Out of the 54 women that started the three day race, only 39 finished and everyone stayed upright! I was one of the top 10 racers racing against category 3 and 4 women. And according to my research, I was the number one category 4 racer. My next step is to see if this race gave me enough points to finally upgrade to category 3 for road racing-then maybe my circle of bike racing buddies will stop calling me a sandbagger for racing as a beginner on the road.

Urban Mt. Bike Race:Southridge 3/12/2006

One of the many reasons I enjoy mountain biking is getting away from the city. Usually after a mile or two into a trail you can leave behind the noisy intrusions of human life. It is very peaceful being out in nature with your own thoughts while grinding up a steep hill and being surprised by a bobcat that jumps out on the trail and runs off into the woods.

Unfortunately Sunday's race is not a race I attended for its scenery or the wildlife. It was for practice. The Southridge Winter Mountain Bike Race Series is a local event held in Fontana, CA. The cross country mountain bikers fondly refer to the area as "Fontucky." It is a great sample of urban mountain biking. Do not get me wrong, it is not a piece of cake course to navigate. In fact there is more single track on this race course than in some of the races I have attended in the local mountains. But you never escape the urban elements. The course sent the racers through a homemade paintball arena full of broken bottles and paintballers in fatigues, down a steep dam wall over some broken plywood makeshift bridge with an old baby crib mattress off to the side to cushion you if you fell, then through a chain link fence and around bulldozers. Fortunately, someone finally removed the overturned grocery cart from the course.

Sunday was the last race of the local series and the second one in the series I have raced. A month ago I was able to score a second place finish. Sunday was very different. The recent weather made the slow, soft sandy and deeply rutted out trails nicely packed and fast (see the picture of the snowy mountains on the way to the race). The pro women's category had a solid showing of eight women including Jimena Florit a 2 time Olympian. You may wonder why pros would spend so much time at a local mountain bike race. It is all part of the preparation for the NORBA National Series. One of the NORBA events will be on this very same course and we all have the same thing in mind-learn the course to go faster.

For the 3 lap/21 mile race, my fast was not working too well. I gunned it from the start (see the picture of me leading the field out) to get a jump on the single track so as not to get caught up in the bunched up bikes for the first left turn. In my head it seemed like a good plan, but my legs did not agree. I was quickly passed by the more experienced pros and then picked off by a couple more. My strategy was to stay with pros for as long as my legs could keep up. It was very short-lived attempt. These gals were wicked fast and smooth including my teammate, Chrissy Bono, who was in rippin’ good form and took 4th place. Once my breathing and heart rate calmed down, I was able to settle into a steady pace. I had some of the pro gals who passed me in my sight for most of the race, but I just did not have enough juice to reel them back in. I ended up finishing in 6th place.

Although I did not feel terrible during the race, I was not 100%. The best part was that I am still closing the gap on the time difference between myself and the veterans. I am glad that I am still improving and that I have not reached my physical ability ceiling. Still, it was a wake up call that this year racing is going to be very different from previous years. It is going to be much more competitive and challenging. I have a lot to learn about mountain biking and a lot more work to do to prepare for this season.

The Road Challenge:LA Circuit Race 3/5/2006

Road racing is a challenge for me. Granted, I do most of my training for mountain bike racing on my road bike. I get more consistent intervals on the road bike just on the riding routes alone. Also, I train with a PowerTap, a mechanism that measures my pedaling wattage output. According to my coach, it is much more accurate than training with a heartrate monitor. According to my legs it is a lot more painful and more mentally challenging to be consistent with power training. With heartrate training I can get my heart pumping fast early on in an interval and then kickback and relax until it starts adjusting to the intensity. With power, there are no breaks.

[Above Picture: I am warming up on the trainer before the race with teammate, Tina, (on my left) and Frank, (on my right), Bicycle John's Serious Cycling women's team mechanic getting my race wheels ready.]

Anyhow, I have entered the road scene this spring to warm up for the mountain bike race season. It is always good to get the first searing lung and leg burn under my belt before it counts. Somehow, I just do not manage to torture myself enough on my training rides. Unfortunately, I have never done enough road races to upgrade from the beginner's field (Category 4) to the next level of Category 3. For me it means that the beginner races are filled with a plethora of bad and beginner riding skills-aka crash friendly races. And road crashes are not as easy to get over as a mountain bike crash. You leave more skin behind on the road than in the dirt. Just think of playing baseball in a parking lot vs. in a grassy park and sliding into second base. Which one feels better?

Yesterday, Sunday, was my third road race of the season. It was a circuit race. Circuit races are usually loops that are longer than a mile. So you ride in a pack going around in circles for however many laps your category is assigned. Category 4 women had the luxury of riding the four mile course six times. The turns were left-hand hairpins. Now imagine the first time you rode your bike-did you go in a straight line? Probably not. Now imagine 30 or more women, with half or more doing their very first road race, riding really close together and trying to make a tight left turn. Scary.

The first couple of laps were uneventful. I tried to stay toward the front as much as possible. I pack drifted toward the middle or the back of the pack to take a break a couple of times, but there were some ladies who did not have good experience with pack riding and were all over the place. Dangerous. I figured the front was the safest even though I would have to work harder. As you can see in the picture on the left, I am towing the field.

I had a good time up front. I chatted with some of the other ladies, I announced when some of the gals in the back decided to jump out of the pack and take off, I chased everyone down who thought they might get away from the pack, and I, too, made a couple of attempts to leave the field behind. It was a great workout. I was impressed how my legs felt. Although I worked hard, it was not too painful.

I was even more impressed that no one crashed. During the sprint finish, one gal bumped my right side hard. I figured she was crashing or she did not know what she was doing. So I took off a little to the left and a lot forward. Then I managed to avoid another crash when some wobbly wheeled rider almost locked her back wheel with someone else's front wheel right in front of me. By then, I missed my opportunity for a good top five finish. Still, I managed a seventh place finish by gunning it around the almost locked wheels and passing a few racers right at the end.

So the challenge for me road racing is that not the strongest or best racer wins, it is the racer who uses the field of riders to her advantage so she has enough energy to sprint to the finish line for the win while staying out of harm's way. Since I want to upgrade to at least a Category 3 on the road, I must master these techniques. Until then, 27 more days until the mountain bike season starts!