Ride, Race, Rinse, Repeat.

Winds over my Hammy

2009-08-19T14:27:00.001-07:00

This weekend was like your very favorite sandwich stacked high between two pieces of moldy bread.

Destination: Windham, NY
Purpose: Regain some ground on the season by landing a top 5 spot in the National downhill event

Thursday night my friend Shawnee and I drove the short distance to our rented condo near Windham resort where the other six occupants would arrive at various times throughout the night and early morning.

Friday morning started with a leisurely breakfast, a logging in to do a bit of work, and then heading over to the venue to register and for our scheduled afternoon practice. Omen number one: No other pros were there registering or waiting in line for Cat 1 practice to end. DAMN! The schedule had been changed to an every-catagory-for-themselves all-day conglomeration. I now had exactly one hour in which to get my bearings started on the course.

This wasn’t that big of a deal. I had seen the new features at the end of the course, a wooden drop and two large doubles, and as I watched the guys roll the first double, coast, pedal then sail effortlessly over the last set, I figured I’d probably just roll them at first and check them out like I normally do. After all, they were nothing to be scared of.

I knew the course pretty well already. The first section was from last year’s national course, and the middle to bottom were from the Gravity East event earlier in the year, minus the foot of mud that covered it then.

On my first run down I swooped and pumped the fun stuff then stopped and hiked section by section to re-run it smoother and faster. The course was phenomenal. Every part of it was fun, well maintained and manageable, however at race speed is when it started getting tricky and demanding respect. I rolled down the wooden ramp as I always do on a first inspection run, hit the last berm towards the two finish doubles then rolled the first set easily. It was at this point that my head went straight up my ass.

I don’t know what made me do it. In ten years of racing, I have never hit something without scrutinizing it first. Well, there’s a first time for everything. I figured I’d coast, then take some hard pedals to the last set of doubles. To say that I was surprised when I got to the larger-than-anticipated lip and further-than-anticipated gap is an understatement. To my horror I was going much too slow to clear it, much too fast to slam on the brakes, but juuust the right speed to pack my front end into the front of the transition. KA-LUNK…KAPOI.I.I.I.NG!!!! I’da pulled it off, too…if it weren’t for the fact my visor hooked a brake cable and basically attached my head to the handlebars. (Feel free to laugh; I cannot imagine how ridiculous this looked)

I remember thinking, “Whoa! I’m gonna pull it off! Oh no…SHIT! My head’s stuck!” At that point I tried to jerk my head up, which wrenched the front wheel sideways and bucked me straight over onto my right side noggin first.

I remember hearing birds tweet and seeing stars circling as I picked myself up, dragged to the grass, dropped everything I was carrying and stumbled immediately to first-aid. (At this point I’d like to say thanks to Joanna, Sue, Lauren and anyone else who might have come in to check on me while I was having a nice little chat about head trauma with Ron the medic. They sent me on my way. Obviously, that was the end of my practice for the day, so I walked the course later instead. I’m really not sure how beneficial that was since I was suffering from a bit of random memory loss that night.

Saturday through qualifying Sunday was a delightful mix of friends, swimming, BBQing and having a great time riding the racecourse. I took one practice run on Sunday and was ready to go.

My qualifying run went pretty well up until the lone muddy section. I hit every line I wanted to and paid attention to where I could hold more speed and where I needed to brake in my race run. I was having a good ol’ time laughing and whooping it up along with those on the side of the course, then I heard Sue cheering and ringing her cowbell. Maybe I just tried to come in to fast, but for whatever reason I tapped the brakes and my tires slipped right out from under me. The cheering stopped. I looked up, saw Sue, couldn’t help but laugh as I quickly picked my bike up and got going again, “Hey! I never practiced falling here!” I rolled both sets of doubles this time and crossed the line in 4th behind Joanna Petterson, Darian Harvey and Dawn Bourque. Respectable, but I could definitely shave some time off my race run.

Five – hours – later. We waited and waited and waited. Finally our scheduled 3PM start arrived. This was it. I felt good. I was going to redeem myself from nearly a summer’s worth of result-bummery. I had a good start out of the gate, down the chutes and across the grass. I dove into the first rocky section. CLANK! *rattle*rattle*rattle* The rattling turned to grinding, the grinding turned to only being able to ratchet the pedals to get just a little bit of power from the chain. Pretty soon there was nothing but the momentum I had and could gain from pumping anything I could. I hit the wooden drop and pumped through the last berm. My eyes were set on the first double and suddenly I was skidding in the grass and slid out. My rear wheel had totally locked up. What else is there to do but pick up the pieces and run like hell to the finish?

So, I finished. And to quote one of the all time best movies ever, “And when they pulled his body from the twisted, burning wreck, it looked like… THIS!!!!”

My qualifying time would have put me on the podium, so I can’t really be all that upset. I’m still up there. The Dare rode like a champ and was insanely efficient. Time to rebuild and get back on the horse. There’s still allot of riding left this year!

2009-06-05T05:38:00.000-07:00

Oops. I guess I should just hang on to that win at Diablo from the first series race 'cause this timed run ain't the one to remember.

My weekend started on Thursday at 6:30 am with a cup of coffee and two u-turns to pick up this little guy who I saw bouncing up the Northbound lane on Rt. 22:
Don't ask me why or how I've been on this stuffed animal finding spree. Random stuff just happens to me. Anyway, he proved entertaining.

And gave some much-needed post-practice anxiety release:

Anyway, this particular race was multi-purpose. I needed to kill some demons from my '04 US Open experience, which I did. I felt GREAT in the rock gardens, I could take the lines I wanted in the off-camber slabs, I cleared the step-up and nailed the step-down at the end. I was feeling pretty darned good! Much better than my rear shock was feeling. After my qualifying run I checked it out and basically my rear shock was done. Toast. Thankfully I had brought my spare 5th Element which hadn't been ridden in nearly five years.

The tech support at Shimano this year was wonderful. They were so helpful!!! (It's making me reconsider their company) They helped me get my shock back in working order and tuned up then sent me out to test it. It worked perfectly. So perfectly, in fact that I kept riding...and riding...and riding... On that note, the group from Michigan who I used to ride with was there and since I never get to ride with these guys any more, I decided (much to the detriment of my race) to do some freeriding with them.

Sunday rolled around and practice went really well. The course was still tacky with a bit of a blown out berm, but otherwise perfect. Puffy white clouds dotted the otherwise clear blue sky and thunderstorms were predicted later in the day, but surly the race would be done by then.

The women gathered at the top of the course for our 3:05pm start. At exactly 3:00 a clap of thunder boomed and a lightening bolt split the sky. The lift shut down and we were sent down to wait out the deluge, not to race for nearly another 2 hours.

By 5pm on a race day I need to be done riding, out of my gear and sipping something cold and frosty from a glass bottle. Instead, I was at the top of a muddy, unknown course, tired, hungry, cranky, having to pee and my race run made all of that evident.

I was not a happy camper when I felt my front tire slide out and nearly send me off into the weeds on the second corner out of the gate. When I slammed into a sapling on the side of the course at the entrance of the rock garden I was even less amused. By the time I dragged my mud covered carcass and bike off of the course and out of Stephanie's way I just wanted it all to be over.

Well, there's always next year and more races to come this year. I will focus on those and having a great time on my bike...which is why I do this in the first place. :-)

Diablo Series #1

2009-06-05T05:16:00.000-07:00

Lauren and I thought it prudent to get a acquainted a bit more with Diablo in preparation for the upcoming US Open and race the first Diablo series event.

Between the two of us we learned some important things:

Always, Always, ALWAYS check your pinch bolts and thru-axles on both wheels.
60 durometer tires are NOT good at Diablo when it's wet.
Waking up to a power outage and no possible way to make coffee makes for a grumpy household.
Diablo is still a hell of a fun place to race.

So, I have no pictures, but the way it shakes down is this: Lauren and I were the only two girls racing. She is an incredibly smooth rider and eyewitnesses say that she was smoother and took better lines (ie faster) in the top sections.
However, I felt pretty darned good in the middle turny woods section and that is probably where I made up the four seconds that separated us.

I think we both felt pretty good about the US Open the next weekend at that point, but was it to be? Tune in and find out next time kids!

Massanutten YEEEEEE-HAW!!!

2009-06-05T04:41:00.000-07:00

The first race of the year is always memorable. Last year it was the death march up the wrong trail and subsequent post-race snowstorms while racing with my friend Jackie at the Keyesville Classic. This year the season started a bit later with the Massanutten Yee-Ha in VA.

Lauren, Alicia, Sue and I packed into Alicia's Husband's Canadian "Minivan of Wonder" and made the eight hour haul from Danbury, CT to Massanutten Resort in VA.

We raced on the old world cup course which, although wasn't insanely technical, had it's moments with all of the muddy root turn entrances. It was, however insanely fun.

It was here that I began to realize it might be time for a new bike. After an inventory we came up with: Blown rear shock, badly needed a pivot overhaul, dent pullers, pinch bolt that refused to pinch the rear thru-axle... (which lead to my rear wheel falling out after a step down in later rides. It's been an exciting season so far)

The race went well:
And there was much celebration:

In short, I'll be making the trip back to this event again, but hopefully with one of these little beauties next time!

Pawling Thursday Night Ride, AKA...

2009-04-17T11:38:00.000-07:00

Main Entry: Pawling Thursday Night Pain Train: \ˈpȯ-ling'\ \ˈthərz-dē, -(ˌ)dā\ \ˈnīt\ \ˈpān\ \ˈtrān\

Function: Proper Noun

Description: A group of fellas who claim to like each other and just go out for a nice spin, set the bait with a nice mellow pace for thirteen miles then try to tear the legs off of everyone in the group for the rest of the ride.

Really though, it’s fun, and they’re nice.

Thursday I drove into the parking lot, grabbed my bike off the rack, pulled up my “Big Girl Pants”, slapped a grin on my face and prepared for my weekly shelling.

The ride usually goes like this: Mile one through eleven, slow to moderate pace. Yak, yak yak. I’m hangin’ in there, feeling pretty good about my ability to hang with these jokers.

Mile twelve, the chatter stops, the pace picks up and riders start jockeying for wheels. I’m working hard but still in there.

Mile thirteen the pace has increased and the faster guys blow off the front. That’s ok, I’m still hanging onto the other half of the group, then some SOB attacks on a hill and as I watch riders pass me, I mutter VooDoo curses on each of them individually as they all pull away. (Note to self, next week bring chicken bones to shake)

Miles fourteen and fifteen are either spent by myself or in a blinding anaerobic frenzy trying desperately to hold Jim’s wheel, as he was nice enough to circle back and pull my sorry ass back up to the regrouping point.

The rest of the thirty mile (or so) ride has been a craps shoot this year ranging from getting hopelessly lost in the dark with Marc and bumming a ride back home from a nice auto mechanic named Doug, nearly holding on and almost finishing with the group, to this week’s adventure of just peeling off at the regrouping point and taking in the scenery of the beautiful back road loop that Irene showed us on the Wednesday ride.

This is where things started to get fun.

As I ride along, minding my own business, I saw this little fella and picked him up to have as a riding buddy.

Toodling along out of CT and back into NY I was stopped by this:

Something that I generally don't freely admit is that I'm afraid of trains. I don't really know why. I think it's because they're big, loud, looming and unstoppable. I've ridden trains and been fine, but I tend to regard trains as some people regard skydiving. "The ride is fun, but scary as hell." wierd, I know. So, if you're ever around me and hear a train, you might see me get a wide eyed fixed stare at the big metal monster - now you'll know why.

Anywho, moving on to the end of the ride that swooped through a valley of rural Pawling's forrested hills, I could hear the water in the streams pouring and rushing. Everything was crisp in the cool spring evening, the smells, the sounds, the colors of the green pastures and twiggy forsythia blooming in profuse canary yellow explosions.

The end of the ride took me past a part of the Appalachian Trail that cuts through a farmer's field, and for some reason I think this is so cool! this area is linked to NYC by train and to miles and miles of endless wilderness by the AT...it's as if anything is possible here, choose a mood and go.

As I circled back to the shop, I didn't see the rest of the group so I assumed that they hadn't arrived yet. I looked at my computer, twenty-eight miles. I might as well make it an even thirty so off I went down the road, lost in my own little happy world with my new little monkey buddy sticking out of my jersey pocket, when I hear someone yell from fairly close proximity, "HEY!" Simply put, Jim road up from behind and scared the shit out of me.

We finished up and ended in the parking lot as the other riders were getting ready to leave. It's now that I realized that I missed riding allot more than I thought over the winter.

This was kinf of a milestone week. Sea Otter is this weekend, and as many people know, the Sea Otter and I do NOT get along. Every year for the past eight I swear and vow and stamp my feet as to be adament that I am not Not NOT going, and every year for the past eight I find myself in the dusty, windy, sunny monsoon that is the Sea Otter circus (that is an accurate weather description, by the way) hauling my bike across the Laguna Seca racetrack and standing at the top of either the downhill or dual slalom courses, both of which I love to ride, but both of which have it out for me.

This year I'm not there. I'm safely three thousand miles away, and feel some strange insane guilt about not going. Anyway, I'm dubbing this last road ride as my "Anti-Otter" ride, and my new little buddy, meet Mr. Non-Otter (than) the Monkey.

An Old Favorite

2008-11-05T13:29:00.000-08:00

I'm heading back to MI tomorrow to ... ahem..."race" in the annual Iceman cross country event. It's a 26 mile point to point race from Kalkaska to Traverse City. Many of my riding friends will be there and I guess I got a little nostalgic and dug up a post I wrote a couple years ago after an epic yet muddy back road ride on a rare warm winter day. It was one of my favs, so here it is again. :-)

To a mountain biker, sixty degrees and sunny in Michigan on January 28th is like taking a newly rehabilitated alcoholic to an open bar. Oh, there were plans, all right. Our group was to meet at 9, pick up another friend downtown and drive to Cleveland for a day at an indoor mountain bike park. All was on track until 45 minutes later when we got to her porch and on a whim decided to scrap the trip because the sun was out. There will never be a more fickle bunch than a group of cyclists on a sunny day. Racing back from whence we came, half of the group decided to ride back roads, which at this time of year are muddy at best. There was no question the roads were muddy. With the sun melting the remaining spots of ice, wet, sloppy, slow and deep can be added to the condition description. Plodding along we splashed through miles and miles of water filled potholes and mud bogs until we and our bikes were nothing but unrecognizable mud figures. Our jerseys were covered, it was in our hair, teeth, and eyes and somehow it even managed to get lodged in our bike shorts. Finally we headed back, but not before walking in to place a take-out order at a local Thai restaurant. The look we got was something like this: (as described by Dustin) Hostess: “Ohhh…what you want?? You so muddy!” Biker: “I…I just want to place a take-out order…” Hostess: “Oh nooo…you pretty girl, but you leave! You diiirty!!!” Take out order was placed and we rode back to the house to clean up. Of course immediately upon return beer was opened, pictures were taken and conversation took the place of getting clean, and by then the food was ready to be picked up. Off I went, glass bottle in hand riding my filthy bike and drinking my delicious beer through the neighborhoods and into downtown. This is exactly what I needed – what I missed from my days in CA. Suffering through an otherwise miserable ride with good friends with the promise of good food and a good brew afterwards. It’s hard to explain why I felt so free at that moment. Maybe because I felt like I was 8 years old again, maybe because I felt like I was untouchable by the “real world” or maybe because at that moment, I was devoid of all responsibility. Whatever it was, it’s the feeling that I long to attain each time I get on my bike. Thai food, a quick bike cleaning at the local car wash clean(er) clothes and I was on my way back home, somewhat exhausted, but feeling that high normally reserved for epic summer rides. I was looking forward to a shower. I cranked the hot water then went to the refrigerator to grab a badly wanted beer. Grocery duty was neglected over the weekend. Shame on me, we were out Blue Moon. Grimacing, I selected a Porter from a “Beers of America” gift box. The quality was suspect, but after a sip from a chilled glass, the prospect of it actually being somewhat good was promising. Stepping through the rolling steam into the shower I relished taste of my magic elixir. How good it tasted at the end of the day! There is nothing like standing under a spray of hot water with a cold beer in hand, remembering the day, feeling the ache in your muscles and watching your skin appear from under the layer of dirt and grime. Sometimes life is so simple!

Sometimes it's just best not to find out

2008-10-29T08:14:00.001-07:00

I've been off the bike for few weeks as I'm just plain ol' burnt out for now. I've been back in the gym and started to do some Olympic style lifting and gotten back into hockey, which is just what I needed. What I didn't need is to get the news that I had always been a bit curious about.

About four years ago, at the last NORBA National in Sand Point, ID I took a couple consecutive nasty hits to my right shoulder. One was during qualifying when I pegged a tree in a straightaway and the other is during the actual race run when I looped out off of a drop and fell flat on my back/right shoulder from 6' up. I'll be honest, both sucked. Weeks and months after my right shoulder was still tender, but I was quickly regaining full range of motion, so I figured it was just a bad separation. I've had them before and they just need time to heal. Shortly after, the crunching started. I chose to ignore it. Then it started to freeze at night when I was on my side. I chose to ignore that too.

Fast forward three states and four years later, the crunching and freezing still ongoing, but by this time I've just learned to deal with it as a minor annoyance. I've got full range of motion; can do everything I normally do so why bother?

That's when my curiosity got the better of me. I was coming out of the gym, which share space with a physical therapy/chiropractic office. They happened to take my insurance, were nice and seemed to know what they were talking about. I booked an appointment, they took x-rays, they asked all kinds of questions, and then they finally put the x-rays up for me to see.

Now, I'm no geologist, but even I could see that something was amiss. "Um, shouldn't there be a connection between that and that?" I asked, pointing to where the clavicle and scapula should have been joined. "Yes." Said the doctor. "And you see those little flecks of white? Those are bone fragments that once were part of either of those two bones. Basically the end of your clavicle snapped off." "So...my collarbone is just kinda floating around by itself in there? Ugggghh..."

So, the good news is that right now I don't need surgery because it's been so long and there's really not a whole lot that can be done. I'll just be rehabbing the shoulder because, upon measuring the strength of both, it's much much weaker than the left. We'll see how it goes. I just don't want to be 65 and then need to have it fixed!

The funny thing is, I remember saying to my friend, True after I hit the tree, "Man, That was a hard hit! I can't believe that I didn't break my collarbone!" Yeah.

Our Current State

2008-09-29T12:54:00.000-07:00

I know this post has nothing to do with riding, however the subject has been a hot topic as of late and impacts, or will eventually impact us all.

This clip puts into plain English just what exactly happened in the housing markets that have lead to the US credit market's current sad state of affairs.

This American Life: The Giant Pool of Money

Click, download, go get yourself a cup of cocoa and have a listen.

Jeep King of the Mountain “Park Deux”

2008-09-23T00:25:00.000-07:00

First I said I didn’t want to race the dual slalom at the Jeep King of the Mountain in New Jersey. I raced it, qualified, took home some cash and had a damned fine time. When asked if I was planning on attending the next KOM in Park City, UT, my white little angel self of logic and sensibility sat on my shoulder and asked, “Why tempt fate? We did well had fun and walked away unscathed. Let’s end here.” My little devil self of good times, fate tempting and chance promptly poofed over my other shoulder, said nothing, flew over to my little angel self and gored her with her pitch fork. Needless to say, I registered myself for the Park City race and booked my flight.

This was a multi-purpose trip. First, I was going to race. Second, Interbike was the following week and the timing was perfect to drive down from Salt Lake to Las Vegas with Jackie. Third, after ten years of trying to travel with a bike and taking it up the backside from the airlines, I was determined to fly with my bike and pay no bike fee. I had seen it done before in some creative ways. Connie managed to stuff her frame in a pack and Lisa hauled hers out in a hockey bag. Since I was bringing my small bike, aka “Beatdown Betty” I thought I could break her down enough to fit into my hockey bag, so I disassembled as little as possible to fit everything but the wheels, which I stuffed into a different bag. It’s better to pay $25 for the extra bag rather than a $100 bike fee!

ha!

When I arrived at the SLC airport I hearded down with everyone to the baggage claim where I saw a stack of bike boxes. I got all excited and looked around to see if the owners were anyone I recognized. Sure enough, I recognized one of the two big guys standing there as Steve Peat so I said hello and introduced myself. The other, to whom I extended a hand looked at me funny, like I should know who he was. I gave him a sideways look, hand outstretched and said, “Hi, I’m Allie.” To which he said, “Hi, I’m Nathan” Oh! Nathan Rennie (Aussie Sea Otter, world cup, etc, etc multi-champion) D’oh!

The rest of the exchange went something like this:

Me: “You guys are here for the Jeep dual slalom race?”

Peatey: “Yeah, we’re heading over there tonight. Are you?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m racing too so I’ll probably see you. Good luck to you.”

Peatey: “Thanks…”

Rennie: Looks at me, looks around to see where my bike might be. “You’re racing? Where’s your bike?”

Me: Looking to the carousel and I see my “bike bag” making it’s way past a crowd. “Oh! There it is!”

Rennie: “Where?”

Me: “In that hockey bag…excuse me.” I push my way to my bag as it rounds the bend.

Rennie: “Huh?”

Me: “Right here.” I grab it and as I move to expertly nab it off of the carousel one of the straps break, flipping the bag upside down and spewing out the contents of one of the side pockets. I thought I had emptied all of the hockey paraphernalia at home, but apparently not. About five pounds worth of hockey pucks, a baseball, two street hockey balls, a spoon and a stick of deodorant went flying across the baggage claim floor.

Rennie: “Um, you’re racing bikes?”

Me: “shit.”

Needless to say, they were not impressed. In fact, as they make their way to the door they avoid my general personal area by a great deal, should my dorkiness somehow be contagious. Thankfully Kimber came and rescued me shortly after. We drove to her place in Park City and the weekend began.

Thursday was building bikes, registering and meeting up with Jackie to finalize things for the Freeride Foundation booth. We spent way too much time in Wal-Mart contemplating the rain-shedding properties of different types of colored tulle, avoiding bus weirdoes, getting coffee and such, but we finally made it to the venue for registration and to look the course over.

The last KOM course in New Jersey was rather mellow, fun, flowy, was about 28 seconds long and had stuff I could jump. The Utah course was not the New Jersey course. It was twice as long, twice as steep and the jumps and gaps were twice as big. It was a monster and I was no longer wearing clean underwear. It was looking like Jackie and I might have more free time on our hands than originally anticipated.

Friday rolled around and all of the athletes met for course inspection, two practice sessions and qualifying.

My first practice session went well. I was taking it easy, rolling the big stuff and finding some lines that I could set up to jump a double or two. We broke for lunch then went out again for the afternoon session. I took one run but could tell I was getting tired. On my second afternoon run I tried to turn it up a bit in the first two corners to clear the first double cleanly, and as soon as I took off, “POW!” My front tire blew clean off the rim, on which I landed, thankfully and miraculously holding on and riding it out. I got it cleaned up and fixed to finish up the rest of practice. There were still two big gaps that would certainly make or break a run that I was not hitting. These two qualifying runs could be my last runs of the weekend if everyone else who was hitting them nailed it in qualies.

By the time qualifying came around the wind had picked up quite a bit. Four of the top women didn’t make the final either due to missing gates or crashing. Jackie and I had played it safe, qualified with rather slow times, but kept it upright and made the money round. Not bad considering the very worst we could walk away with at this point was $500. Sometimes that’s just how it goes in racing. “Slower’s faster.”

I was certainly feeling the fatigue and tiredness set in when we went for dinner, at which point the rain started. I went back home, took a shower and went to bed, then woke up at 2am not to fall back asleep for another two hours. Waking just a few hours after that, Kimber and I loaded into her car to pick Jackie up and meet some friends at the Park City dirt jumps for a quick session.

The rain was periodic, but thunder rumbled and dark clouds loomed in the distance. Jackie and I left the others to set up the Freeride Foundation booth before the really bad weather came. We were glad we did because the weather came and with vengeance.

Spotty rain, thunder and lightning put the athletes on weather notice to be ready to race instead of practice at a moment’s notice. We got our bikes chipped for the timing and were able to take some practice runs, but then the wind kicked up again as we lined up for the final.

We rode up in Jeeps (I'm hanging onto the back)

I went up against the UK phenom Fion Griffiths. I think I have been in this situation before at Sea Otter. We line up, the gate drops and she’s three flags down before I realize the race has started. Not this time! The gates open and we’re off. I’m able to hold her wheel until the first big gap. I break hard and she sails over it and out of my sight. It’s done. “Death by Griffiths” but I’m happy with my 6th place. I mean, $1000 for two minutes of lagging behind a world champion ain’t all bad, plus there was an open bar in the VIP tent.

One by one athletes are eliminated and the bar gets fuller and fuller. Then the typhoon hits. Rain comes sheeting down, flying in sideways and I swear, straight up from the ground! Everyone runs for cover and then down to the VIP tent for a dinner of sumptuous comfort foods, warming soups, decadent cakes and yummy brews. Kimber, Jackie, Adie and I hang out there for a while which turned out to be a great way to talk to all of the other athletes person to person. Tara Llanes was there to commentate the event and we had a chance to speak to her as well. I still can’t get over how these Jeep events really bring out the fun and personal sides of people instead of only the “racer face” side. It’s very refreshing.

Well, all good things must come to and end though, and for me they nearly came to a screeching halt. The fact that I had nearly zero sleep the night before, was tired, getting run down and was out playing in the cold rain started to take it’s toll. We girls tore the tent down and stuffed items wherever we could in such a fury that through the rest of the weekend items came up missing…items like, my purse complete with ID, credit cards, etc. By some grace of God, however I had kept one credit card in my pocket. Odd.

Later that night after getting cleaned up we all tried to go out, however without a valid ID, it was impossible to convince the twenty-three year old bouncer that I was, in fact old enough and that if he didn’t let me through the door, the age gap between us was great enough to be acceptable for me to take him over my knee and spank the puddin’ out of him. (That’s in the parental sense) No dice, but it was just as well ‘cause whatever I had caught was beating me into submission.

Sunday there was an awesome girls dirt jump session at I Street in Salt Lake City. Addie, Kimber, Jackie, Lisa, Liana and myself. Pictures say a thousand words and I’m sure you’re tired of reading by now, so here are a few. There's more in the vid below.

Addie promised not to land on my head and Kimber sails over the doubles

Group shot

I was supposed to work out of UT this week, and then head to Interbike with Jackie. Sadly, that’s a no-go. I’m getting sicker and sicker by the minute and need to just go home. I’ve got a flight set for tomorrow but still no ID. Hopefully I’ll be safely posting the rest of the trip details from NY tomorrow…if not I’ll be hitchhiking my way across I-80.

A fun little note: Freeride Foundation (http://www.freeridefoundation.com/) made it to the "Fashion" section of the Utah 48 Straight site! http://www.jeepmtnbiking.com/entertainment/fashion.php

A little video of our exploits. Anyone seen my purse?

The Legendary Whiteface 5K Downhill

2008-09-07T18:35:00.000-07:00

Since moving to New York and joining up with the East Coast race scene, I had heard the question asked anxiously, “Are you doing the Whiteface 5K Downhill?” The tone was nearly the same as those that ask about another epic event. Something like, “Are you racing the Downieville All-Mountain? On THAT?”

A 5K downhill? That’s like more than three miles of downhill course. There’s no way that can be right and if it was, it would have to be done someplace out West where there is elevation to support it. I thought to myself, OK, I’m game but it will probably be a gnarly Super D with tons of uphill at best. I’ll just suffer through it and besides, it’s months away.

Hours before I was supposed to leave for Whiteface, I looked at Downhill Mike’s “Everything you need to know about the Whiteface 5K” web page and realized I might be somewhat ill-prepared. This was a big-bike course, all downhill and no one from last year finished in less than 7 minutes. No one. Well, whatever. Suck it up, right? I picked up my friend Heather and off to New York’s Adirondack region we went.

I greeted Saturday morning as a cranky little camper. With very little sleep the week before and virtually none that night, I tried to untie myself from my pretzel-like car sleeping position, addressed my fellow campers with a pre-coffee snarl and stumbled around the campsite looking for something, although it was never determined exactly what.

Our group finally got going and arrived at the venue. I looked up and saw the looming steep walls of Whiteface Mountain. I knew the course was going to be long, I mean, it says so in the name, but c’mon. Just how hard can a 5K downhill course really be? After a 13-minute gondola ride to the top, I was about to find out.

The course started out on the only flat (and slightly uphill, if you ask me) section of the fire road, which twisted and swooped it’s way into a very steep fire road with nomadic, rolling, baby-head-rocks filling all of the turns. If a rider was unfortunate enough to blow a turn and veer from the beaten path, they were sucked into a mess of sharp, dislodged boulders, which made braking a nearly impossible feat.

The wooded sections of the course seemed harmless enough--for a normal-length course, that is. Add four more wooded sections and a few more quad-burning fire roads and you’ve got yourself the Whiteface 5K! By the end of practice on Saturday, berms had formed in the entrances and exits of the woods sections, making it feel like a bobsled track. But pedaling on the straightaway fire road sections was going to hurt on race day.

I took one more run than I should have. My quads and calves were in knots, my arms were Jell-O, my shoulders were tight and I was riding like an idiot. After smashing my pinky against a tree that threw me down in the middle of the trail, I knew that Whiteface was going to have it’s way with me. I retreated to the safety of the parking lot and the promise of a sweet swimming spot and cold beer.

The Flume swimming hole on the AuSable River is reason in itself to come up to Whiteface. Cool water gushes down cuts in the smooth granite walls to make this water-lover’s playground. Although far from crowded, the hidden little alcove was buzzing with people enjoying this natural wonder. There were five different levels of cliffs to jump, guys sliding down the flume and people just chilling in the water after a long, gritty day of playing in the surrounding mountains.

Sunday was the day. The course’s lines had burned in but there were still a few “ninja lines” that weren’t extremely obvious. Practice went well, however my race run was by far the worst race run I had put together all season. Every piece of me was tired and fatigued. After I forced myself to hammer across the finish line, all I wanted to do was throw up and lie down (preferably not at the same time, but the possibility was there). The course was fun, but I had not brought my “A game” or “B game” for that matter. In that box of Alphabits I had pulled out maybe a “Q”.

The fun didn’t end when I crossed the finish line. Oh no, there was still one more race to go. On a whim I had signed up for the Chainless Open race. Yes, it’s exactly what it sounds like. Riders line up at the start sans-chain and do one big long coaster race down the course. Upon further investigation, I was the only female who thought this might be a hoot--the Open class consisted of me and forty-or-so guys. This race really had no degree of seriousness. Many of the guys were wearing spandex, helmet visors were flipped upside down in Egyptian Pharaoh fashion, one guy was in a skin suit and a few stuffed socks down the front of their shorts. (Yes hot stuff, we know that was only a pair of socks)

The fellas and I mobbed the start, as there was no real start list and took turns in thirty-second increments showcasing our running cyclocross-style flying mount and best aero-tuck down the first straightaway. It’s a funny feeling not being able to pedal and knowing you have to somehow make the corners without scrubbing too much speed. The odd thing is that in the woods, I learned some lessons just coasting. I took better lines, stayed higher and was able to keep momentum in places I blew out during the race run. Hmmm…maybe this is a new practice tactic?

The chainless race burned my legs even more and when I crept across the finish line I was done for the day. Whiteface had done me in and I had learned a few things for next year. Mainly, to train for this event!

The final results came in and awards went smoothly at the end of the day. For the Pro Women, Dawn Bourque and Karen Eagen were on it and deserved every bit of their respective first and second places. Karen had won the year prior, but Dawn dethroned her by about eighteen seconds. With over $1,200 on the line for first, $500 for second, and $250 for third, who can blame her?

Karen confirmed herself as one of the East Coast’s riders to be reckoned with by claiming second place by a solid ten seconds. Eeking into third, but closely trailed by fourth by about two seconds, I rounded out the podium where we received checks and black T-shirts that were just perfect for my transformation from "Mild Mannered Downhill Bella" to the “T-Shirt Ninja!"! (yes, that punctuation is correct)

There were six Pro Women total, who made for a competitive field, but there really should be more presence for a fun well-paying event like this one.

The Whiteface 5K has all the makings of an epic event: fantastic terrain, nearly-unheard of equal Pro payouts for men and women, challenging race courses, non-race freeriding options, fabulous après riding swimming holes and cliff jumping, amazing scenery, and a promoter with a sense of humor.

Other incentives to visit Whiteface are the Whiteface Women's Days where on specified days, ladies ride for free, and riding camps and clinics. Beginners and intermediate riders can be eased into Whiteface’s terrain, while advanced riders can improve on their technical ledge-next-to-waterfall riding skills. Plus, there are some of the most picturesque mountaintop trails you can imagine. I didn’t believe it either, but these views rival Mammoth, Tahoe and Whistler. From the observatory it’s possible to see all the way across Vermont into New Hampshire’s White Mountains. The nearby lodging is inexpensive, but make sure to book early if you’re coming in on a holiday weekend.

Although it’s been three days since the race and my legs and arms still hurt, I cannot say enough good things about this race. I will definitely be back next year with and without a chain and better prepared for what this course can dole out. Hopefully I’ll see you there next year!

Thanks to Kathi Kraus for taking and providing event photographs.

Jeep King of the Mountain at Mountain Creek New Jersey

2008-08-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

http://www.jeepmtnbiking.com/sports/nj.php

I will start out by saying, this event ROCKS! I cannot say enough just how much fun I had with this.

When Jackie informed me that “I will” be racing in this event, I was nearly finished tearing pieces/parts off of “Beatdown Betty”, my well-used Specialized SX to finally lay her down to rest. It was then that the emails and phone calls from Jackie started. “There will be snacky foods and hot dudes there, plus it’s in your backyard.” How could I back down? “Ok, ok. You had me at “snacky foods.” I said and promptly left to place an emergency order at Pawling Cycle for a shorter set of crank arms.

Once all of the parts came in and were retrofitted to actually work together, everything was pretty much ready to go. Thursday I picked up Lisa Myklak from the airport and we made our way to Mountain Creek to see what this dual slalom course was going to look like.

Berm after berm after double after step up – wow! Had I not been registered, I would have cried. There was no way I would ever want to miss this! It was like they took everything that is awesome about the legendary Sea Otter slalom course and made it better! Eric Carter and crew had been working on it all week and they were just putting the finishing touches on it when we climbed up the course Thursday night. Friday was going to be a fun fun fun day!

As expected, the riding during Friday’s morning practice was a grin-fest. It turns out that thirteen ladies registered for the event, which meant that five of us wouldn’t make the final. Qualifying was going to take some work, and I had only started going to the BMX track a week prior…hmmm…things might not look so good for me.

My two qualifying runs went smoothly. On my way down I heard Larry Longo, one of the voices of the NMBS events announcing and giving props to Velo Bella, which was pretty cool. (On a side note, I had a chance to chat with him and found he’s a really cool guy who cares about the events from a racer’s standpoint. He can also be bribed with oatmeal cookies)

Well, apparently I haven’t lost all of my dual slalom know-how. I qualified 6th out of 8. Not fabulous, but considering the field, good enough to make the show on Saturday.

Saturday I matched up with Stephanie Nychka, who, although bobbled in the first run (I relaxed and should have taken advantage of it instead) made quick work of me and I was eliminated in the first round of eight. I ended up 6th overall which is something that I'm still extremely pleased with considering the field.

The next Jeep KOM event is in Park City September 21. I HIGHLY recommend that you check it out if you can. It’s a fun event, with bands, $10 haircuts from Paul Mitchell and stuff from http://www.freeridefoundation.com/ (check out bandana-rama) How can you possibly go wrong? Oh yeah, and it’s televised! Watch the first one on CBS Sports September 23rd!

Turns out I snapped the bolt off the bottom shock mount! YIKE

To Ride, or not to Ride: What a Silly Question.

2008-08-15T12:50:00.000-07:00

I thought that next weekend would just be any other fun local downhill race weekend, that is until Jackie explained to me that I WILL be racing the dual slalom. ("Do it or I will kill you." is pretty persuasive) So now I'm preparing for the Jeep King of the Mountain event at Diablo Freeride Park in New Jersey, which means I must have my dual slalom bike "Beatdown Betty" back in working order. I ran to Pawling Cycle to place an emergency order for the stuff I needed in order put Humpty Dumpty back together again, and last night everything was finished.

Excited, I drove back home, dumped the dog, grabbed my gear and took off to the BMX track to get some laps in before dark. I arrived about twenty minutes later ready to go. Gloves? Check. Helmet? Alright, a choice of full-face or roadie. Check. Shoes? Shoes? Bueller, Bueller? Damn. So there I stood, full-face helmet on my head, gloves on my hands and flip-flops on my feet. I had two choices, ride carefully or ride like an idiot. I chose the latter.

Trading my full face for the roadie helmet I pulled my bike off the car and made my way to the track, accompanied by the sweet clicking of a Hope hub and the "smook-smack" of flip flops hitting my heels. I did get a few sideways "you dumb, dumb girl person, shouldn't you be home cooking someone's dinner" glances from the "rougher looking locals", but met a nice guy who advised me to count my piggies before and after each lap.

Although kind of unsettling, it wasn't really all that bad. I mean, I don't plan on making a habit of riding in sandals, but I was still able to jump and sprint. Not too bad, and a successful track night was in the books.

The moral of this story is: As silly as I looked and unprepared as I was, not riding because of something as lame as shoes was never an option. Riding is just that important!

2008 US National Championships, Mt. Snow, Vermont

2008-07-22T09:49:00.000-07:00

Since Mike and I have moved to NY, it's thankfully in a spot where I can start giving back some host housing for events.

Kimber, Connie and Shannon Edson all arrived Wednesday evening, however Kimber and Connie were not allowed out of the plane until early Thursday morning. I picked them up from the airport and around 1am the three of us rolled in to my driveway exhausted.

We started out the next morning building bikes and loading cars. Shannon and Connie were to follow Kimber and me out, however when I pulled out of the driveway and made a right onto the road they were nowhere to be seen. I swore they were right behind us. There is no cell service where I live so we circled back around to the house retracing our 500-yard gain in search of them, but no dice. They had disappeared. That’s gotta be a record!

Shannon and Connie made their way to Vermont using her directions and a rental car map while Kimber and I relied on my impeccable sense of direction. (HA!) Surprisingly we made pretty good time, that is, until we got to the Mass/Vermont Border.

A good day starts with a good breakfast:

…Or brunch, or lunch and a snack, or gorging on impulse boutique foods at the Vermont state line.

Kimber and I made our way through the last bits of Mass and into Vermont as our tummies started to get a little grumbly. Right at the state line, you know, where the road narrows and you can almost knock on someone’s front door while driving by, there sat an innocuous looking little country store with “pastries and deli” painted in the window.

We weren’t even all the way through the door yet and we both had our hands on freshly baked cookies the size of our heads. There was every type of Vermonty maple delight one could imagine. Maple smoked mozzarella, maple sugar, maple syrup, maple-fried-maple…it went on and on. We grabbed a sandwich, I couldn’t resist a sampling of the maple pulled pork and we tugged each other the hell out of there before any more damage was done.

Down low, two slow!

We arrived, but not in time for Kimber’s Super D practice. Downhill practice was later in the day, so after registering, we took the chairlift up to walk the course. It took longer than I thought and my legs were already starting to ache, so I bailed out ¼ way down and hiked the fire road the rest of the way.

I suited up for practice and was so tired I nearly fell asleep on the chairlift ride up. I took two slow runs in order to look the course over since I was just too exhausted to walk it and pick out lines.

Validation:

Friday’s practice was spent on two timed cruiser runs. My arms were still ok, but I could feel the fatigue setting in. I knew I was riding better and able to conserve energy by letting the brakes go in certain sections, including a very fast section of boney, pocked shale slabs that were just a tad off camber. This is usually not my style, as I have no love affair with high-speed sections.

The bike bucked and skipped as my suspension soaked up all of the hits. I felt the bike leave the ground and land again, only to skip over more shale-bone. With every hit I thanked God for the Stan’s NoTubes guys and their strong wheel-building prowess. Clang!…Clang!…KAPOW! ……CLANG! “ooh. That sounded like a big hit I should probably check my air pressure when I get back to the pits.”

I headed down for a breather and to check over my bike. I went to pump up my front tire, to which it’s response was, “HISSSSssssss.” What the hell? I looked down and saw the side of rim was basically folded in, however the Stan’s had sealed it enough to allow me to finish my run without realizing it was slowly going flat.

A couple of other good side dings made my eyes well up with sadness for my pretty new ZTR Flow wheels. Upon further investigation moments later, Alex found that I had actually cracked the rim right in half. At that time Mike from Stan’s walked up to our tent and had thankfully brought an extra set of rims I ordered. “I guess this means that I’ve been going faster.” And in an odd sense, the fact I was going fast and hard enough to break one of their wheels kinda made me feel validated as a racer.

I noticed later, there were dead rims all over the place. I only cracked one where other people were going through two and three sets of wheels. I guess they should have been riding NoTubes.

Ice, Ice, Baby:

Saturday we were all feeling the effects of the rough long course. We were bumped, bruised, sore and tired. Since practice was held in the morning, we had the rest of the day to do what we wanted, which quite honestly for me was to sleep. Kimber suggested that we head over to the condo for ice baths. So, that’s what we did, each of us taking turns in the tub with our own bag of ice for seven to ten minutes of soaking in excruciatingly cold water. YOW!

It’s a little ironic, a downhill team taking ice baths and foregoing a party (Vermont’s institution of the “naked crit”) to head out early to offsite host housing. We then went for a relaxing swim with the dogs and friends in the Connecticut River. The swim was not, however without the obligatory “stand on an inner tube in the middle of the river” contest.

Me, going over backwards
Kimber, rockin' the boat

For the Record:

After Friday’s…well, let’s face it, disaster in the slalom qualifier, and an incapacitating uphill footrace in the Super D, we, on the Velo Bella Downhill team were faced with the very real possibility that for the first time this year there might not be a podium appearance for us at a race. It would have been so good to have a showing at the National Championships.

I guess what “They” say about momentum carrying a rider or team because I don’t know what the hell happened during downhill qualifiers, but as I was laying on the ground at the tent wallowing in what I thought was a joke of a run, Alicia runs up to the tent with the shocking news: “HOLY CRAP!!! ALLIE, you qualified 4th!!!” I was in no way prepared for this information so I let out my default response while rolling on the ground: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!” But, there it was. My name, in print right in between 3, Dawn Bourque and 5, Marla Streb. Talk about a hero sandwich! (They are two of my favorite riders from when I started racing)

At two-o-clock we lined up for the final in reverse order of our qualifying run with the fastest qualifiers in the back. Marla looked back at me and gave me a “good luck!” I cracked back, probably a little too eagerly and loudly, “You too!” It was obvious that I was nervous. On a side note, I NEVER EVER thought that I would see the back of Marla’s jersey from the start block. Usually, when I look back at the line of riders to follow me, she’s a little speck off in the distance of top three qualifiers. Something horrific must have happened to her in qualifying, or she was just setting the bait with a slower time.

This time, I looked back and saw only three. The very fast, very aggressive and very hungry Bourque, Pruitt and Buhl. Holy Shit. Remember the “Rabbit Chase” scene from the movie “Snatch”? (Queue the music)

Marla rolled up onto the starting block but not before she said to me in low voice, “head up.” We had spoken earlier and I explained that I had worked with her old coach Blair Lombardi this past spring. “Head up” is one of the fundamental keys. Just little things she does like that keeps Marla up on a pedestal as a class act. (I still wanna grow up to be like her)

And then there were four. I loaded into the start gate and to calm myself tried to make small talk with the official and give a big cheesy full-face grin to a guy taking snapshots, all without fogging up my goggles. Well, it worked and I was off. Down the right of the pocked ski run, staying loose over the steppy-steps, letting my bike work and flow under me while I hung on for dear life over my desired lines. I knew my speed was good, yet I was confident – an incredible combination that I hadn’t yet been completely able to put together. I tried to gauge my run by

the spectator’s cheers. When I nailed a difficult off camber section, I heard a guy give a surprised “yeAH!” I thought to myself, “Hell yes that was good! You’re actually nailing this!” I was then on to the high-speed “Wheel Crusher” section which I tried to stay loose and flow over, but somehow I got sucked into the weeds. I thought I was going over but managed to pull the bike out and still carry a bit of momentum, but not enough to where I didn’t have to pedal like crazy into the woods.

I dove in as the course spotter blew her whistle. (course spotters communicate via whistle blows, one blow=rider through, two blows=rider down, etc) Over the rooty places that caused me a bit of trouble, then as I passed another course spotter who blew his whistle, I heard another whistle blast from behind me. “Oh my God!” I thought, “Dawn’s RIGHT THERE! She’s caught up already!!” New strategy – pedal like hell. . I had to basically do standing two-minute sprint intervals while maneuvering a nearly forty-pound bike. Oh, it hurt so badly. I forced myself to pedal in every single straight. Up and over the rock-drop, landing with an “OOF!” pedaling through the woods where I could and then through the last wooded section where my smarty-pants husband was yelling, “C’mon!! GO! Pedal! GO!” “I’m going, I’m going!!!” I tried to huff back, but it probably came out more like “IGUuuuuunn..BAAARF!”

The end was near. The light at the end of the tunnel of trees to the glorious finish line where bottles of water and a nice place to lie down awaited me.

“UUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGG…whimper” I’m sure I sounded like a hippo in labor as I pedaled through the fire road chicanes, but damnit I charged. I gave 100% as I came through the finish line and I was spent. That was a successful run and I was happy with it. Although I could improve on my lines and some technical aspects, I gave it everything and that’s what I had expected of myself. What I was not expecting was to hear “Allegra Burch with a time of blah blah blah sitting in third place!” My brain was doing back flips while my body fell off the bike. I tried to do the math. let’s see, I’m in third, there are three faster riders, that means the lowest placing I could get today = blue. I decided just to sit there and see what happened.

Dawn came tearing through the finish, then Melissa Buhl lit it on fire. There was now only the defending Pruitt who had taken the Stars and Stripes home last year…and she came down on a flat. Just because Kathy had a flat, however doesn’t mean she still didn’t have a smoking time. She could still claim a podium spot, however it was not to be. She must have flatted at the very top, and there we had it. The 2008 Pro Women’s National Championship podium: Buhl (KHS), Streb (Luna), Bourque (Rhino), Harvey (Sobe/Cannondale) and Burch (Velo Bella)! As I’m writing this a day later I’m still kinda stunned.

Thus, as a team, we have continued to uphold our 2008 record. Every single venue that one of the DH team members has participated in during 2008 has seen one of us on the podium for at least one of the events.

Bittersweet:

My goal in the beginning of the year, before I knew we were moving across the country, was to accumulate enough UCI points to be able to race some World Cups. Specifically, I wanted to attend the two in Canada, Monte Sainte-Anne and Bromont which followed the week after. Since moving and buying a house put the financial damper on travel, training and racing, I scrapped it and focused on local stuff, which started going really well.

The podium spot at Nationals in itself gave me all the points I needed for the Monte Sainte-Ann and Bromont races the weekends after! I could go!!! Or so I thought.

The reality is, the cutoff date for all points to be accumulated for either of these two events was July 8, 2008. this means that the only US event where a gravity racer could gain UCI points was at Angel Fire, and since it was an E2 event, only a modest amount of points were granted. Basically, you had to win in order to get enough points. I could go to the last two World Cups in Australia or Austria, but I’m afraid with the price of gas, my car just won’t make it there. ;-)

I’m not exactly sure how it all works, if points carry over or if I’ve just got to do more races in Canada. I’m new to this World Cup thing, but now it’s a solid goal for 2009 and I’ve got a lot of time to ask questions, learn, plan…and get faster.

You can’t do it alone:

The support was awesome and so very very helpful. Just knowing that I could bring my bike in and someone would actually help me fix it, or wash it or tell me to sit and put my feet up was invaluable. Having a place to just sit for a while was key.

Morgan was our amazing and valued mechanic and Alex did the running, figuring out and cat-herding that is just mentally exhausting.

My friend Jeni's in-laws, Sonny and Debbie Brooks opened their home to us for which all of us were thankful, not only for a place to stay with wonderful people, but for a little flavor of Vermont. Sonny turned us on to this maple liquor. (after the races, of course)

Thank you to the people who sponsor and believe in our little DH team our extremely talented XC team and our high- profile Velo Bella organization;

Stan's NoTubes, Sram/RockShox, Fox Racing, Giro, Zeal Optics, Sidi, FSA, Crank Bros, Pedro's, and everyone listed here, thank you all so very very much!

The Windham National: There's a first time for everything.

2008-07-14T13:38:00.001-07:00

"You want this! Pedal, damnit, you want this!! You’re gonna watch from the sidelines again if you don’t get your ass moving!!! You’re run’s been clean enough to get it, now GO!!”

I wish I could say that this is what I was thinking to myself as I raced toward the finish of the downhill finals at the Windam Resort in NY this Sunday, but it wasn’t. I was screaming it out loud like a damned maniac as I came out of the second to last wooded section, past mothers and children, past other spectators and probably past someone with just the right type of credentials to diagnose me as a bona-fide loony.

July 1st, 2001, NCS #3 at Deer Valley Resort in UT. That was the last time I stood on the podium at a national for a downhill event. My friend Tammy Pickerell and I took first and second, respectively in our expert class and I said hello to the pro ranks and goodbye to the DH podium. A lot has changed since then. Moves, marriage, houses and other obligations should have kept me from even trying to keep up with the newer, younger more talented racers who kept popping up, but with change comes circumstance, and circumstance can be used to an advantage.

It’s funny what just the right combination of desire, confidence and chance will do. This weekend there were two major gravity races running. One, the Windham national, that seemed to draw racers traveling through to the US Nationals in Vermont next week then on to the Worlds in Canada, and two, the Mountain States Cup in Colorado that drew most of the local racers who also happened to be most of the national racers. So, the racing population of the United States was split which caused our field to be rather small, small enough, in fact to make me think I had a pretty damned good chance of getting on the podium.

This was the first national mountain bike race that Windham Mountain in upstate NY had hosted. I arrived late and didn’t have a chance to walk the course before practice. I took a slow cruiser down and was kinda surprised at just how steep a course could get. There had been very little rain here the past few weeks and all of the dirt was powdery, but the exposed roots and rocks were still grippy. The course went straight down the mountain’s fall line with a few sweeping turns in dry grassy exposed areas that, if a rider stayed low and counterbalanced, shot the bike perfectly into the next wooded section with no braking required. The weather held Friday through Sunday morning’s practice runs, and the course’s iambic pentameter went something like this: Bump bump bump bump skid..bump…WAHOOOOOOOO…bump.bump.bump bump clank bump…YEEEHHAAAA…

That was before the rain came.

notice the black line (pro course) goes straight down

Our small pro women’s field ascended the chairlift just as the first drops started to fall. By the time we made our way over to the starting block, it was a steady rain. Twenty minutes before our starting time, the heavens let loose and we ran to the ski patrol hut for cover. What in the hell was the course going to look like now?? No one really spoke too much about it, but Lauren, who had also just moved from CA and I looked at each other, both just a little concerned about what the rain meant for those of us who haven’t ridden mud in a looooong time.
I’ll be honest, once my qualifying run started and I ducked into the woods, where the dirt used to be powdery and predictable, I was shocked. I no longer knew where or when to brake, my tires had a solid layer of muddy silt packed on them and I couldn’t stay clipped in or on my line for anything. As I slid and surfed my way down the steeps spectators heard me asking, “What the hell???”

Once that nonsense was over, I gingerly rode the first grassy sweeping turn and stayed up, but got sucked too low to hit my line in the next wooded section. The next grassy sweeper I tried to carry a little more speed and counterbalance, but went skidding and spinning on my side as I watched the course go by. Thus went the entire run. What a debacle!

At the bottom, Lauren and I exchanged horrified glances that were then shared with the rest of the field. We all slinked off to the bike rinse to wash…everything.

The rain continued through most of the men’s qualifying, but then miraculously stopped. The ladies went up for the last time to race our final. This was it.

In the words of my friend and co-dh racer Alicia Hamilton, “Giv’r Skidoo!!!” What the hell? I’m either gonna podium or come in last with a spectacular crash story. No more of this pussyfooting around in the woods crap. I was hauling in practice, why not now?

I had a good start and it felt like I dove into the first wooded section. The dirt was holding much better than in qualifying and I hit my lines with speed and caution. I hit every line except for one where I came to a near stop after nicking a tree and then my slowdown in the woods where I actually inhaled and started to choke on a glob of mud.

I carried much more speed in the damp woods than I did in qualifying, but not as much as in practice, and then I came to the second to last grassy connector where I wanted to coast. It was here that I realized I needed to take further pro-active action.

I pedaled through the grass and into the last bit of woods before the big chute and double at the finish. I stayed clipped in and pedaled through the gravel at the last sweeping turn. I braked slightly before and in the entrance of the chute and hit the double low and perfectly and jammed on the cranks as soon as I felt my tires hit the earth and on through to the finish.

I knew it wasn’t my fastest run, but I knew it was faster than my qualifier. I heard my time announced and breathed, “YES!” I had taken thirty seconds off of my qualifying time. After all was said and done, I had done well enough for fourth place, just three seconds off of third.

Even though it wasn’t a full field I’d be a liar if I said I’m not still thrilled. I loved every bit of it and I loved racing with the people who were there. I guess that the East Coast is kinda agreeing with me.

On a side note, I had the opportunity to meet quite a few people, one who is an eight-year-old future downhiller. (I just know it, as long as she keeps bugging her dad for that bike) and a woman who approached me and said, “you are so much fun to watch when you race! I just love watching you ride!” She had seen me at Plattekill the past weekend and then here. Something that I had never expected to hear from someone, but was I ever flattered to have her tell me that!

Podium Photo: http://cyclingnews.com/mtbphotos.php?id=/photos/2008/jul08/NORBA_5_08/NORBA_5_0813/dh108

What new wheels REALLY mean a downhiller.

2008-07-10T12:41:00.000-07:00

(via chat)

me: hey!! - i've got our wheels in my grimy little paws...

kimber: if your paws. leave grime. on my shiny wheels. you're in trouble.

My reply:

Platte-Kill-Me-Now

2008-07-07T08:34:00.000-07:00

Happy 4th of July!!!

Mike and I packed up our camping gear, riding gear and the dog and made our way up to Plattekill mountain to spend a three-day weekend camping with friends and to race the second (or third?) Gravity East series DH.

I had two goals for this race. If it was dry, rail all of my lines. If it was wet, just stay upright. Since I’m still learning the “who’s who” of the local East Coast scene, I wasn’t quite sure of where I stood or should expect to place but to say there’s some talent out here is a gross understatement. These gals straight rip. Then I found out Dawn Bourque was in attendance.

Dawn has been a force in the racing scene ever since I’ve been racing. I remember seeing her on the podium at Nationals, her name plastered all over the top ten of result lists along with names like Sher, Giove, Streb, Lawyer and Donovan, all of whom are women that I looked up to for their racing and riding ability. So, when I finally saw her to introduce myself and she said she remembered riding with me a number of US Opens ago, to say the least I was really flattered and maybe just a little star struck.

Thankfully (and amazingly) the course was bone-dry. After taking a practice run and performing an Olympic-worthy swan dive off of the middle rock drop I had a new goal; Hit my lines, stay within ten seconds of Dawn and since she was on course directly after me, either don’t let her catch me or get the hell out of her way FAST if she does. Since the course was short, times would be mid to high three minutes for the women and sub to low three for the men. Ten seconds on a course like that is still light-years off, but a goal none-the-less.

The race started and off we went in forty-five second increments. I charged and tried to stay off the brakes where I could. Platty’s courses are no joke. The course was so steep that by 1:30 into the run my arms and legs were pumping up. By the end of the course, my Avid brakes had heated up and expanded from holding them in the lower section. I LOVE my Avids, which are always so reliable and modulate so well I hardly ever get arm-pump, so I can’t imagine how the other racers using a different brand of brake even hung on.

bottom of the course

I came through the final “Maxxis” jump and tried to pedal the twenty feet across the finish line only to find…SURPRISE! No chain. I have found that the common denominator in my “chain problem saga” is some type of timing device. Whenever my run is timed, my chain gives up the ghost. (Plan “D” is now in the works to rectify said chain issue for the Windham national) Thankfully the chain issue had no effect on my results other than maybe being able to knock off a tenth of a second.

I came through with a clean run and I was eleven seconds off Dawn and 1 second off my goal. She’s still amazing and I’m still learning.

My goals are personal. I don’t intend to “beat someone” in a race, but to improve my ability and speed. I have found that I’m learning more this year by having fun riding and racing with really talented people and by paying attention than from trying to be competitive with them as racers. Every race and every ride this year that I’ve had the opportunity to do has been a positive experience, mostly because the only expectation I have of myself is to enjoy the track and improve my own riding each time. Overall I expect to be a stronger faster rider at the end of the season, but then again, better + faster + stronger = more fun.

Just for fun, watch this: http://youtube.com/watch?v=WOYtWXlcTlk and watch me demonstrate how NOT to ride Plattekill.

Diablo Domination

2008-07-07T08:05:00.000-07:00

It was so nice of the Diablo Freeride Park to welcome a racer new to the East Coast with such good weather and a sweet course! It was my first race after moving out to New York from California and I was in no way disappointed.

I drove each day out with my friend Alicia, and instead of the normal 2-4 hour drive to a “local venue” we arrived door to door in an hour and a half. So Stoked!

This course had everything I could ask for with the exception of a “Welcome Allie” sign at the top. Big fast rock gardens, jumps and fast flat corners. Oh, and it was dry!

Practices went well and in between there are so many nice flowy jumpy trails that riding nearly all day wasn’t a problem.

During the race run I think I might have tired just a tad and hit a couple of corners a bit wonkey, but managed to hit my big lines dead-on. After swooping through the lower switchbacks to the step-down, railing the berm and jumping the drain gap, I was ready to charge the grassy turns, but apparently my chain, once again had called it quits. I can’t believe that it had happened again!!! Plan B. Pump every little stutter like a madwoman and tuck like a roadie in the straightaway through the finish. 2:55. Ug! Although good enough for a win, it’s disturbing to think that it would have been better.

So, as I wouldn’t go as far as to say I “dominated”, I did put down a somewhat respectable time considering my lack of pedal power and walked away with a nice prize. (Which allowed us to purchase a badly needed dehumidifier for our basement and groceries for the next week. Yeah..exciting)
Diablo is still as much fun as I remembered from a few years ago. It’s gotten built up with progressions and some straight gnarly stuff, but it’s just a huge playland now! I’ll definitely be back for the rest of the series!

Platte-KILLER!

2008-06-15T20:29:00.000-07:00

This morning I got up, made coffe, packed up and headed out to meet a new friend(s)from last weekend and drive up to Plattekill for the day.

Paul kept talking Plattekill up saying how different it was from Mt. Creek, how much more flow it had and just how it's such a local gem. Back in the day I had a friend drive from MI to race Plattekill and get broken off so badly it pretty much ended his short DH career. Needless to say, years later, riding up there I was a bit intimidated.

We arrived to a dirt parking lot, a small wooden two-story lodge and the owner standing outside the door. A small local operation indeed! No frills, no fluff, just a black and white map that showed miles and miles of trails that resembled a "choose-your-own-ending" story.\

I have to say, I was charmed. I love gritty little local places that focus more on the base reason they exsist in the first place instead of catering to namby-pamby little fluffy pretty people who just want to be seen. Nope, it was just a rider's mountain...well, riders and the flies. Thousands and thousands of swarming flies. Buzzing. EVERYWHERE! Apparently some governmental agency planted them here to get rid of the caterpillar problem, and supposedly the flies only last about a month. Hrm..we'll see.

They had the "Slow boat to China" chairlift running. An old-school two-seater that crept up the hill at it's own leisurly pace. It was the place and chair that time had forgotten. We boarded and up we went.

Paul was an amazing trailguide. He expertly hooked up the network of trails into a flowing rollercoaster of fun. Over rocks and roots, through some chutes and drops. The place just kept going!

We did catch up with a few other Western misplacedians such as myself. A fellow Michigander, Alicia, who had actually just relocated from CO and Tanner who had also just moved from NorCal. What a small world this is!

Again, I'm sorry that there are no pictures. Someday! someday there will be photos, I promise, but for now, get out and ride, for it is summer!

-Allie

I heart NY...or something

2008-06-10T07:12:00.000-07:00

So, I am. All unpacked in Patterson NY after a 10pm-3am moving company delivery adventure, hailstorm and crazy amounts of yardwork. (yes, that all took place the very same day we "officially" moved in.)

This area is beautiful! Rolling mountains, lush and green with rushing streams and brooks cutting through the gullies. There are some trail networks closeby as we're just a few miles south of the AP, but most of the others allow mountain bikes.

I did get to go ride Diablo on Sunday...in the sub 90 degree heat. Holy crap it was hot! Diablo still kicked all kinds of ass though. Super fun and I met some really cool people there as well.

Today I took a quick morning road ride from the house. Funny, the rolling hills never seem that bad in the car but on the road bike, man I got a workout! I only did a quick 13 mile loop before work, but the hills aren't like the nice long sustained climbs of the West. These are short and steep and want to kick your butt!

More reports to come as I venture out further, and as soon as we locate our camera I can post some pics as well.

Happy trails!

Angel Fire Chili Challenge

2008-05-28T12:22:00.001-07:00

I had heard many things about Angel Fire since its inception as a local venue, mainly that the place kicked all kinds of ass. Well, “they” were right. It does kick ass in all aspects of the term. (my rear has never been so black and blue)

Considering the potential “kick-assedness” of the venue and the fact that this was a UCI points race, my goal was to go and at least place top ten in order to accumulate a modest amount of points. Would it happen? My practice runs suggested that I just might.

Tuesday night I packed up my things and closed the door to our Novato apartment for the very last time. I was the last piece of the puzzle to move to NY, and I was doing so via this race in New Mexico.

Wednesday morning Jackie (Giant, WTB, Freeride Foundation) and I set out our eighteen-hour drive through the southwestern desert. We drove past Flagstaff; saw all kinds of “Route 66” stuff, even a petrified piece of wood or two along the freeway. Exciting stuff. As the drive wore on, we grew closer and closer until finally we reached Angel Fire and exploded out of the car. I took off to walk and map the course while she built her bikes and headed out for mountain cross practice.

Kimber, Connie and Addie (Go Ride) arrived that night and all of us, travel weary claimed bunks and headed in for an early night.

Friday, the temperature dropped steadily and the course became inexplicably slimy on top where the high-speed fire road sections became hard to hold on over the tall water bars. All of us except for poor Jackie escaped to the warmth of the condo before the blizzard hit. When she came in looking fairly traumatized from her “adventure down the course” the rest of us were already snuggled into the living room with the heater cranked on high. Throughout the evening we watched the snow go from flurry to blizzard and back, each of us dreading what this meant for our 8am practice on Saturday.

Saturday – AM practice: Connie, Kimber, Addie and I trekked out (stupidly) into the 32-degree morning. The clouds looked like they were lifting a bit as we boarded the lift, but as we ascended the “high clouds” turned into a full-blown blizzard. Frostbite was an issue at this point. Everything was frozen. Everything! I nearly at it on the road descent from the lift to the start gate! We entered the course through three inches of snow then slid and cart wheeled down the frozen top rock section. It was pure insanity, however at this point, any improvement in the course would make it straight delightful compared to this.

PM practice was open to all – I had forgotten how scary it is to be on the course and ride with the expert men. There are unspoken rules of etiquette in the pro field, namely, if you stop on the course, you get the hell out of the way el pronto lest it be “death by (insert pro dude’s name here)”. Not so. Bouncing down the rocks, behind these guys you had to be careful and give them lots of room. IF some of them cleared a section, chances are they’d park it somewhere in the middle and have a look-see. Instead of seeing a clear path of what they had just come down, they got an eyeful of furrowed plucked eyebrows and wide mascara’d lashes behind clear goggles screaming “rider!”. It was like they were surprised to see anyone else was even on the course with them, much less the very real possibility that they were just about to be leveled by a chick.

Thankfully the course had dried out. The top was still pretty slimy, but the bottom was pure tacky bliss! Speed held in corners and arm pump was a huge concern. As we progressed down the course, the feature loomed. That’s right, Kimber’s nemesis. “El Stepo-downo Roadogappia” (Anyone who has seen “Stars and Bars” will remember her debut.) When I walked the course and saw it, it scared the hell out of me just looking at it. I couldn’t imagine what Kimber had to do to overcome this thing.

Thankfully, there was time to work on it. I watched Addie hit it, then approached it a few times with Kimber coaching. Finally I hit it. Pure butter. Cake. This was to be my race line and really the only place on the course to recover.

I stopped and waited for Kimber. She backed up, took a go at it and sailed over expertly. This year she will be on film for tearing this road gap apart, not vice versa.

Sunday is where the trouble began. The course was drying out to near perfect conditions and I was to the point where I was holding speed through the rock gardens, including the flat baby-head sections. I was feeling good (although insanely fatigued) on the course and confident for a good qualifying run.

On the start block I got a good start, pedaled down the first sweeping turn, entered the second too fast, braked and lost speed. Not a huge deal, just something to work on for the race Monday. Entering the first rock garden I hit every target line and cleaned it perfectly, although not as fast as I knew I could go. Again, no problem. As I progressed down the course and through the chunder of a right-hander and went to pedal out of it, the sickening feeling of an unburdened crank and the sound of a chain spinning freely hit me. Damn! Damn damn damn! I somehow knew my chain was going to be an issue. I knew the space between the roller, chain and bash guard was too great. Well, I got to work on holding speed, although at one point I dragged the brakes while trying to re-rail my chain with my foot without getting my right tootsie caught in the spokes. Alas, it wasn’t to be. Forced to coast to the step-up, take the step-down go-around and pump maniacally through turns precious time was lost. Again, damn damn damn!

Wasting no time I headed for the bike shop to buy replacement handlebars due to some nasty gouges in my current carbon set and beg a Dremmel. Surprisingly, one of the employees seemed almost giddy when he presented the nearly new Dremmel kit and watched as I took it into my grimy little paws and went to town on that roller in order to patch up that space that allowed the chain to jump.

A quick digression: Picture, if you will, Dremmel bits. They’re small in size and many in variety. A complete Dremmel kit will contain many many tiny pieces in little snappy compartments above the main toolbox. Compartments that open…sometimes on their own. Picture now, a 4” raised wooden deck with ½” gaps in between the boards. Of course, this is where my work stand was set up.

Let me draw part of the picture:
Constants: Dremmel main compartment that opens, Dremmel bits compartment that also open but open upside down when main Dremmel compartment lid is in the open position.
Variables: Security of Dremmel bits compartment lid, My luck.

I fix my chain guide, wind up the cord, and open the lid to tuck the dremmel tool away while simultaneously the bits compartment lid opens and many of the bits drop right between the ½” slits in the deck never to be seen again. One more check written out by the Karma Payment Plan.

Monday we practiced again in the morning while the other downhill categories raced. Since the pros didn’t go off until 2:30, there was plenty of time to test equipment and iron out any kinks.

At two-thirty on the nose we were lined up to race. Amazing time management by the UCI official and the MSC guys! I watched as Connie, Jackie and Kimber left the starting block, then it was my turn.

My start was great. The first two turns were great, then 200 yards from the start, at the rocky chundry left-hand sweeper into the first rock garden, there it was again. A free spinning crank set. My chain had fallen off yet again. Oh, the expletives that went through my mind. I had two choices, either keep as much speed as possible through the flats (which wouldn’t be enough to get through them) or pull off and fix the SOB.

I pulled off course and tried to fix the chain as quickly as I could. Since we ran in one-minute intervals, I kept counting and got to about eighteen before I was off again. Thankfully I never got caught. Pedaling through the rocks, I went up and over the bridge and once descended into the last rock garden, the chaining had bucked the chain for the last time. There was no more time to fix it, I just had to hold and gain as much speed as I could which meant hauling much more ass than I’m comfortable with on the fire roads.

Thankfully I was able to pull it off while keeping speed and hitting the road gap. I pumped like crazy through the berms and anywhere I could along the last part of the course, but sadly it wasn’t enough. This just wasn’t my race.

Although the results are a bummer, I really feel that my riding ability has been elevated. I learned a lot on that course and was able to put into practice what my coach had tried to teach me. (yeah, I hired a coach this year – totally worth it!)

I’ll be back next year, though with a working chain and a hunger to throw more spice in Angel Fire’s Chili Challenge!

Thanks to the Velo Bella team for the ultimate in team members and support, Fox Racing who kept me warm, dry and protected during the icy rock runs, Zeal Optics for the excellent goggles, Patagonia for the apres bike “My rear is too bruised to put on anything other than stretchy-pants” clothing, Stan’s Tubeless Wheels for the lightest and strongest wheelset I’ve ever run, Sram for keeping the shifting under control and Giro for protecting my peanut-sized noggin. There might not be much in there, but damn it’s good to have it all safe in a cool, comfy Remedy helmet.

Sonoma Wine Country Century

2008-05-05T23:06:00.001-07:00

Awake at 5am on a Saturday. Ugh. This in itself is why I’m not a roadie. Today was the Wine Country Century and for some odd reason I was awake. To make myself feel better about being vertical and dressed at this ungodly hour, I start in on the chocolate, and I munched right on through the jeers of my “friends”: “you have a problem, it’s not even 6am and you’re eating chocolate!”

Mike, Abby, Jeni, Kyle and myself, truckin’ on up to Santa Rosa to prance around in skin-tight spandex at 7am on a 40 degree morning. Really, what the hell? But there we were. All of us, well, nearly all of us. Jeni and Kyle were still trying to find a parking spot when Abby, Mike and I rolled out. I hung out and waited for the Brooks-a-pokes as Abby and Mike pressed onward. We ended up being about eight minutes behind them, and at a pretty relaxed pace, the three of us figured we could easily work together to catch up. Thus begins our adventure.

All of us in a paceline are rotating nicely. There are two other fellas who are determined to “win” or “thin out the crowd” (yes, in a 2500 person tour), Kyle “throw the f’ing hammer down” Brookes, Jeni “Kyle, why have you stolen my road bike and expect me to keep up with you on a CX bike” Brookes and Allie “I can’t find my way out of a paper bag with a map” Burch. We are flying. As mile 13 of our “warmup” goes by, we still haven’t seen Abby or Mike, but since we’re still passing groups like they’re standing still we press on thinking that they’re just up the way…that is until we no longer see any more groups.

We climb. The five of us continue climbing alone and after about ten minutes of climbing alone the collective genius of the group determines that we have indeed gone off course. (ok, so I was probably taking a pull at that time) Kyle pulls out his gps, and we find a shortcut that takes us back to the group. We climb again and see Mike and Abby waiting at the first stop wondering just where in the hell we were.

We all continued on riding together. We rolled on through canyons, valleys and vineyards. The views were amazing and although there were a couple of steep short climbs, the majority of the course was downhill!

We were nearly to a rest stop when Pete rode up in his “Giant Strawberry Parfait” kit (I was really hungry by this time so this is what I saw) and we started yakking about the velo bella characters. We talked about some of the blogs, sung “My Milkshake brings all the boys in the yard…” and just had a good ol’ time for a bit. He mentioned how he saw the write-up of the Velo Bella downhillers on Michael’s website. “Yeah!” I said, “This is the 2nd year of an actual DH squad!” He eyeballed me kinda sideways like “pardon me for bringing this to your attention, “Ms. Downhiller”, but you’re fully clad in spandex. Do you notice something wrong with this picture?”

We continued chatting about Velo Bella and mutual friends and acquaintances. I was really only trying to make conversation when I said, “yeah, from what I understand Sabine and Michael are hitting the track quite a bit. I hear he’s quite good.” To which he replied and chuckled, “Michael? Hrmp! He’s soft!” Now, I’m no geologist, but I’d say them thar’s fightin’ words. Hey, I just report the news, I don’t make it up!

The course rolled on through the undulating terrain of the Russian River wine country. I would recommend this route for anyone for riding or just for wine tasting. The vineyards and wineries aren’t as commercialized and “grand” as it’s Napa Valley counterparts, but Mike and I have found that the quaintness of the wineries and quality of the wine exceeds that of the quantity some of the more touristy places of the valley pump out.

We rode as far north as Lake Sonoma, where we had lunch and then turned south to begin our ride back to the start/finish. The eastern side of 101 through Geyeserville is a bit more exposed, but still beautiful, even after logging 85 miles.

At mile 86, though I started having the “weird fantasy” phenomenon. I could think of nothing else than getting the hell out of my chamois and slipping into my Kamala skirt. It’s a dress, it’s a skirt, it’s smarter than your average bear…and you don’t have to wear a bra! Anyway, it was kinda weird, but it kept me going.

We ended up finishing and were thankful for the BBQ spread they had set up for the riders. And yes, I did get to wear my skirt/dress.

If anyone were thinking about doing their first century in Northern California, I would highly recommend this event. It’s well organized, friendly, attentive and mostly downhill.

Sea Otter, 2008

2008-04-29T09:06:00.000-07:00

I’ll be honest; I was skeptical about Sea Otter this year. For whatever reason Sea Otter always kicks my ass. I usually come in on Thursday, practice downhill and dual slalom, help set up the tent then stay way too long every day between practices, booth duties, hanging out, visiting all the while getting more and more tired and dehydrated. By the time Sunday rolls around I’m exhausted and still have to race. Every year I swear I will not repeat this cycle, but every year I fall into the same trap. After the $90 gouging per event I was determined that this year would be different! This year I would race only the downhill.

Actually, nearly everything was different this year, and the best part of that was having ¾ of the Velo Bella pro downhill team racing together.

Friday morning Kimber Connie and I rolled into Laguna Seca for the first ever Sea Otter Downhill Velo Bella invasion. We took a run down the course together and regrouped at the bottom after a great run. Personally, my goal was to conquer some demons that have been haunting me on this course from about 2005. First, I have always run a small travel bike. This year I rode my downhill bike, which, although slow and heavy on the upper rhythm and pedals sections, gave me the confidence to gap that damndable log-sandpit thing mid run. Next issue, the 20’ step down towards the bottom. No problem. Turns out that this is also a wall ride, which sets you up perfectly for the berms at the bottom.
This years results were ok considering that the field was pretty stacked. 20th out of an international field, 10th American. I know I could have bumped myself up a couple places if I had actually used the things my feet were attached to. For whatever reason I didn’t pedal on the flats. Lesson learned: Practice the hard stuff, but also concentrate on practice pedaling sections equally.

I had such a great time with our downhill girls. Everyone did well and had a great time riding, putting curly ribbons in our hair and just generally goofing around. I have to say, that was the first time I’ve raced with blue and pink ponytail streamers. If only Sara could have made it. Next time, I guess.

A note on one of our mechanics. Ralph was amazing. Sunday, he ran between the downhill and the cross country to make sure everyone had what they needed. Every other day beforehand he was a flurry of hands grabbing and running through bikes for all categories of Velo Bella racers. I think that’s the best part of this team is that all of the members are valued. It’s not all about standings or category or place, it’s about everyone doing their best at whatever level they achieve to be while having one hell of a good time getting there, and being grateful for the support and attention we do get. We also get to meet some incredible friends along the way.

New Gear Day!

2008-04-11T14:07:00.000-07:00

There are few things that get a racer more excited for the upcoming season than a cold beer and new gear! Wait, I just mean new gear.

Today I received the Downhill team’s Fox order at my doorstep.

I dragged the box in, and tore open with the vigor of a 6 year old at Christmas not giving any thought to the packing crumbs grinding their way into our freshly vacuumed carpet. This is new gear! NEW GEAR!!!

After the items were sorted out for each team member I did what any self-respecting rider would do. I tore open my stuff, put it all on immediately and jumped around in my living room. (if anyone from work is reading this, it was on my 15 min break)

Forty-five minutes later I’m still in the gear typing this up.

Stacey at Fox told me that we’d like some of the new girl-friendly gear for ’08, and wow, he wasn’t kidding!

My two favorite new items for this year are the Blitz Ride Short and the Shorty Launch Knee Pads.

The Blitz Ride Shorts fit great! I found I had to go a size up in order to account for hips, but they’re neither too baggy nor too tight. In fact, I’m still wearing them.

What I’m most stoked about, however is the fact they have a POCKET! And not a cheesy little “fold a dollar 8 times and maybe it’ll fit” pocket, a real, “Left ball, corner pocket” pocket. (or, something like that) Anyway, now I can nix the idea of getting a boob job just to have someplace to stash my keys while I’m riding. (sorry honey)

Shins and foot tops never fear, the Shorty Launch Knee Pad is here!
These are awesome. They have the “stay-put” cris-cross locking retention system that keeps the pads perfectly in place while you’re pedaling and there’s the same amount of effective coverage without the nasty “top of foot fat pinch”. You know, the one where your shoes squish the top of your foot up, the shinguards squish it down and what’s left is a nasty horse-bite type sensation? Yeah, there’s none of that with these!

I cannot wait to wear this gear with the rest of my teammates at our next race! Apparently we’re girls with money burning a hole in our pockets because we’re already scouring foxracing.com for more gear! It’s just so easy to buy things here!

Thank you to everyone at Fox for being so helpful!!!

The Keyesville Classic

2008-03-16T21:19:00.000-07:00

We are here. The race start is *way* over there -->

This was valuable information given to the three of us after an hour of hiking straight up the wrong single-track (with downhill bikes) on the wrong peak of a completely unmarked downhill course on the practice day before the race. Although the descent to the real start was pretty sweet, our little adventure had kinda done me in.

Thus was my foray to the Keyesville Classic event.

The adventure started at 4:45 am on Friday with a 5 and a half hour drive to Keyesville. As the flat farmscape of I-5 droned on, it gave way to the flat farmscape of 46 then 99 into Bakersfield. A quick turn East on 174 was a welcomed change as it dropped out of the valley then climbed and twisted it’s way through the mountain pass along the Kern River up to Lake Isabella where the canyon opened up to an outdoor lover’s playground!

Once I arrived, I geared up and started pushing up the Snake pit course with Jackie and Dain. Fast, chundery sections to rocky singletrack, switchback to a rocky funnel…ok, these look fun, but where the hell does this thing start?!

We kept going and followed a singletrack straight up the most logical looking peak for a downhill course. Half an hour of hiking through soft sand later, we decided that there is no way this can be a start since there is no place to stage riders. Besides, we were the only one’s up there! We rode down and found the real start, which sent the rider down a fire road with a few rollers and a long flat section. Fine if you’re on a small travel bike, but on a 37 lb downhill sled?? Kill me now.

One of my goals for this race was to really look over lines and get somewhat creative. There was a group of rocks that looked like they could be ridden over as long as the rider threaded through the two boulders on either side. Jackie and I stopped to session this section and see just how possible this line was. I backed up and started my approach to the rock line, but slammed on my brakes before committing to riding it. By this time there were three other guys looking at the line as well. I dragged my bike up as was about to abandon the idea just as I heard Jackie say, “actually, I’d kinda like to see how that line is done.” I think she was talking to the guys, but what the hell. I backed up again and rared up to go…I’da made it too… but I got object fixation on the big flat rock wall right in front of me and smacked into it all “George of the Jungle” style. Of course after this the guys cleared it without a problem. I, on the other hand found an alternate line that I liked better anyway.

Saturday was the downhill race, a combined best time on the two courses. The first course, Dutch Flat, was best ridden on a hard tail. There were three rises that made a rider slugging a rolling couch want to puke, but all of a sudden the course got really fast. There were three of us in the pro class, two on downhill rigs, and one on a hard tail. Needless to say, Tiffany, who was on the hard tail enjoyed a few seconds advantage over us on the downhill bikes after the first run.

Time was more than made up, however on the second run where, even though the course had uphills and flats, the technical sections were easily floated over on 8” of suspension.

When the dust had settled and the results were in, Jackie and I had the fastest combined female times…exactly. We were in a dead tie for first. She was exactly one second faster than I on one of the courses, I was exactly one second faster on the other.

The final results had placed Jackie in first and me in second, the tie-breaker being the fastest down the second course. We clambored up on the podium and proclaimed our victory right as the snow started flying!! An isolated snowstorm came blowing through to cap off the awards.

Once the course was marked, and the race promoters set up and organized a bit, the event went really well and was a very fun event. I even met fellow Velo Bella roadie (and now MTB extraordinaire) Tracy Nelson at the downhill! (I can’t wait to read her writeup on this event!)

3...2...1...LAUNCH!

2008-03-03T12:42:00.000-08:00

Finally! After months of work, my friend Jackie's vision of creating a one-stop shop for women's downhill and freeride gear is live!

www.freeridefoundation.com

I know that it's not really a riding post, but believe me, it's affected it. As I was doing most of the web development, I was able to take the frustration of trying to position uncooperative web elements out on the trail. It's worked well, and hey, we even got a properly functioning ecommerce site out of it! :-)

Spring is coming!

2008-02-28T21:05:00.000-08:00

It was on my way home from a field workout, I was on my bike, the air was crisp yet there was a hint of warmth. The aroma of fresh blossoms wafted through the air as I pedaled my way to the park and it simply made me smile.

I've been hiking the hills in our backyard and out on my bike more than I would have thought these past couple of weeks and I have to say that I'm really enjoying my riding time. I'm feeling stronger and can speed through sections that I'd normally be dogging, besides it's been so nice out after all of the rain we've had. The trails are still kinda sloppy in some parts, but oh so nice and tacky in others.

Anyway, I'm just sitting here now after a hot shower reflecting on the ride and workout and how much I'm looking forward to the next time I can get out on the trail.

Happy Trails!

Base Training

2008-01-30T18:20:00.000-08:00

2008 has arrived and although it's still January, the clock seems to be tick-tocking faster and faster as schedules are solidified and vacation time is requested from the day jobs for the racing season. What does this mean for those of us who will find ourselves on a two-wheeled contraption behind a starting line later this year? That's right, better git yerself in some shape other than round! Party's over gals. Put down that bar of chocolate, pick up that bike and ride, ride, ride!

Well, I've been hitting the gym. Attending spin classes, doing strength training and some plyometrics. Fun, but last night I thought I'd try a kickboxing class. I hear they're all the rage. Well, I was quickly reminded of why I will never ever be a dancer. It's my complete lack of rhythm. Needless to say I felt a tad awkward. Here's a quiz: Can you guess which kick-boxer I am?