Now that I've had a few months on a couple of continents to get a feel for the 2016 Juliana Roubion, I think its time to share my thoughts. 

I managed to get though a pretty tough year last year with lots of unforeseen bummers in my personal life. I credit my bike for a large degree of my successfully surviving 2015.  Read my post about how Bikes are Medicine if you want more backstory. It is worth mentioning that I had no complaints about last year's Juliana Roubion. 
I was excited and nervous about the changes that Juliana and Santa Cruz made to the 2016 Roubion and Bronson (respectively). First and foremost, I was not excited about the color. Last year's Evergreen (greenish-teal) is my very favorite color and I was sad to see it go in exchange for Stonewashed (smokey lavender), which I was comparing to an Easter egg color until I actually saw mine in person. I've grown to love the new color as it looks dirty, strong, and feminine all at the same time. I know, I know, I shouldn't focus on the color, but it's actually something that is fairly important to me. If I can't stand to look at my bike or be seen on it for something as up front and in your face as the color, it doesn't really matter how the bike performs. 
Now on to the juicy stuff.
The Juliana Roubion is the exact same frame as the Santa Cruz Bronson. The differences are in the contact points (Juliana uses grips and saddles designed for lady-parts) and in the aforementioned paint color. Its a 150mm travel trail bike with 27.5 inch wheels that utilizes Santa Cruz's tried and true VPP linkage design. I use this bike as my training bike on xc trails and I downhill on it at Keystone. There is not a trail I wouldn't ride with my Roubion. New for 2016, the head-tube angle got slacker (66° instead of 67°), the seat-tube angle got steeper (now 74° vs 73° last year) and the chain stays are slightly shorter (about 1/10th of an inch shorter). What does all of this mean? Well, if you believe the hype, it means the bike should descend with more confidence (due to a slacker head tube angle) climb a bit more efficiently (due to a steeper seat tube angle) and be more agile in tight corners (due to shorter chain stays and a hair lower bottom-bracket height).

The first day I took out my new and improved Roubion, I was frankly appalled at how sluggish I felt while climbing. I resigned myself to the idea that the slacker geometry up front must have a price and it would be worth it on the descent. So I was not surprised that when I started down the techy descent on Dakota Ridge, that Grimace could hand almost anything with ease and confidence. What a difference one little degree can make! I was still a little frustrated that she just wasn't as responsive as my previous Roubion had been, but I figured it was the price I had to pay for all that stability on the descent.  
A few months later, I managed to tick one of my long-time goals off my list and cleaned the entrance to Horsethief Bench in Fruita. This happened, despite my still feeling like the changes in geometry made the new Roubion just a wee bit less playful and more sluggish.  

At the end of that ride, a new friend jumped on my bike and immediately started laying into me for having my suspension tuned in a preposterous manner for my riding style. He made some quick adjustments and I instantly fell in love with my new bike. Thanks Adam. And Macky. And DirtLabs. (And anyone else that gives me bike pointers at any point in my life). 
I have been trying to be a bit less of a dufus about suspension. 

The little bit that I've learned about suspension and damping: 
The damper is separated into two basic functions:
Rebound
This is how quickly (or not) your bike will recover from hits. If its sluggish, (counterintuitively for me), you want to decrease (open up) the HSR. High speed vs low speed rebound have nothing to do with the velocity your bike is traveling, but rather refer to the speed at which air travels through chambers inside your suspension.
Compression
This is the yang to the rebound ying. How quickly (or not) your bike responds to hits.  It also is key for stability, traction and pedal bob avoidance. 
I still have a lot to learn and I really appreciate when anyone takes the time to share any tidbits that they have. 

2016 Roubion Pros:
The Stonewashed color.
Climbs handsomely, especially on techy bits that demand effortless front-wheel lifts.
Descends like she owns the trail. Incredibly forgiving geometry that makes up for all my short-comings. 
The leaps and bounds my cornering skills have progressed on this bike are mind boggling. 

2016 Roubion Cons:
Lower bottom bracket has seen a few more pedal strikes than I would like. 
The Stonewashed color ;)

This review would be complete without mention of the female-specificity of this bike. For starters, its not all that female specific (see above for the very slight differences between this bike and the gender-neutral, Bronson. That said, I LOVE riding a women's specific bike. I love that when I chic a guy on the trail, there is not a doubt in his mind, that he was chicked (definition of chicked) by a girly-girl. I love that when I'm racing in South America, and the crowds want to cheer me on, but don't have a clue who I am, they can yell out the brand of my bike, and I feel like they are my pals, screaming my name. I love that I think I'm more approachable to other women, because I'm on a women's bike, which probably means that I like seeing other women out riding, so we might as well be friends. I'm not going to try to spin a tale about how my body needs suspension tuned to a women's lower center of gravity or that my torso is shorter, so I need female-specific geometry because I know that humans come in various shapes and dimensions, regardless of their gender. What's important to me is that I'm on a bike that I love to ride. And I love to ride the Juliana Roubion. 

My build:
2016 Juliana Roubion frame Medium (I'm about 5'6")
Shock: Cane Creek Inline
Fork: Rock Shox Pike RCT3 150 Solo Air
Derailleur: SRAM X01 1x11
Cranks: SRAM XX1 170mm
Chainring: MRP Bling Ring
Pedals: XPEDO Baldwin
Wheelset: Industry Nine Torch Enduro
​Brakes: SRAM Guide Ultimate
Grips: Ergon GE1 slim
Saddle: Selle Italia Diva
​Frame pack: Oveja Negra Snack Pack 

Having just returned from America del Sur and stops 1 and 2 of the Enduro World Series, I'm reflecting on the experience and I've decided that it was altogether a fun, happy time. And not just type II fun (see this explanation of the different types of fun if you are unacquainted with this designation), but a genuinely good time that I will forever and always remember fondly. It could have easily been a very different kind of experience. 

In the past, the Enduro World Series and I have not got on real well. During EWS Crested Butte in 2015, (my only previous EWS experience), I struggled with one of my worst migraines, vomiting, dehydration, and a very near DNF. Somehow I managed to make the start line on the second day, but the race was tragically called off after one of the riders suffered a fatal crash.
Suffice it to say I was a little nervous about back to back EWS races in multiple foreign countries. Add to that the fact that Denver International Airport decided to close for the first time in 20 years on the day that we were supposed to depart for our trip, and my uneasiness was on the rise. We were able to get out on a flight from Montrose, Colorado, but our departure was delayed by 24 hours. This meant no pre-riding in Corral, and we would have to race "blind."
EWS Corral, Chile was very "physical," which means we had to do an awful lot of pedaling to get to the stages. The climbing over the course of the race came out to be about 10,000 ft. I was quite nervous, and I had no idea what to expect on the courses. It was sunny and hot, and before long, my head started to pound and I wondered if I might have made a mistake choosing to make a vacation out of Enduro-ing. 
Day 2 was foggy and despite a whole heck of a lot of climbing, I felt great all day, and I found myself trying to be me. I stopped to take pictures, tried to move my shoulders and dance at each start line. My outlook on the whole affair seemed to take a different direction and I became an optimist.

Fast forward to a week later: EWS #2- Cerro Cathedral, Bariloche, Argentina. After a few days of rest and feeding our faces, we were eager to get on some new trails. The views of Cerro Catedral ski area had us drooling with anticipation. Typical of EWS, practice days were incredibly structured. I usually pre-ride by taking my time and sessioning parts of trails, stopping for pictures as often as I like and taking as many laps as I care to. Instead were forced to practice in a regimented style, 2 hours per stage, along with all the other 400 riders. The conditions were unlike anything I'd ever encountered before. Incredibly dry, loose, moon dust tracks which were quite steep. I had a hard time finding my groove. 
By the time race day arrived, I was a nasty little ball of nerves, prepared for the worst. 
Despite my fears, I rode stage 1 cleanly. I even had fun. And then I decided that I was going to keep having fun. I treated the Enduro World Series just like any enduro. I gave high fives liberally and rang my bell excessively. I forced the fastest women in the world to join in on a ladies group photo at the top of the last stage. 

I have a lot of goals for this season of racing. The usuals: don't get hurt, finish in the top [secret goal], clean a certain line. But one goal that I intend to make a priority, is to keep having fun. Because if this isn't fun, then what's the point?

Many thanks to Syd, Macky and Matt for sharing the stoke and making this adventure run smoothly. 

Well luckily the only fatalities were the very large sausage that Stephanie hauled in and lots of powder stashes. We slayed those stashes.

I had wanted this to be my first VLOG, but alas, my Shimano Action Cam and I didn't really get along too well on this trip. So you're stuck reading my (hopefully short) write-up.
​

This was our second annual Powderwhores adventure and I was thrilled that Stephanie decided to take the reigns and spearhead the weekend. We were booked to capacity both nights with a phenomenal group of women who brought a wide variety of experience including a few backcountry virgins and some ladies who really get after it to the Jackal Hut. Check out www.otinasadventures.com to learn about Otina Fox, who is on track to be the 3rd female to ski all of Colorado's 14er's!

There has been talk of including men on the Powderwhores trip; I am very outspoken in my opposition to this talk. Although men are great and they can spice up any adventure, I think there is something magical about bringing a group of women into a situation and a sport that is typically male dominated, and seeing how we thrive. Not only did we ski all day and find the powder goods over and over again, but we went on to party hard, make incredible meals and even engineer a sweet kicker outside of the hut.

I'm so proud to be a part of this tradition and I'm so looking forward to Powderwhores 2016!

Forgive all the hoots; this stash was truly amazing. 

What an epic. My first enduro was a Keith Darner event (BME Buffalo Pass, 2012). Maybe that is why I feel like this is the way enduro ought to be. Tough, long backcountry stages on the juiciest trails around. Veritable IMBA epic trails that people come from far-flung foreign countries to ride. Grueling transitions that have the strongest mountain bikers in Colorado shouldering their bikes to get to the top. And then rushing up to the race director to thank him with a huge grin and a high five at the end of the lung-busting, technical, descent-that would-not-end.

Day 1 consisted of the classics. We pedaled up to the top of Starvation Creek, then pedal-transferred again to the top of Silver Creek. By any standards, a big day in the saddle. Followed by bottomless barrels of Ska brews and a quality dinner at the River's Edge in Salida. Racers sprawled out on the deck and watched the river flow and the sun set. I was happy to be sitting in 3rd, only 20 seconds back from 1st (which was remarkably a tie between Megan Rose and Sarah Rawley).

Day 2 had me quite nervous. After the long pedal up Tomichi Pass, we had 2 miles of steep, loose hike-a-bike to the top of Canyon Creek. This is a seldom ridden trail in Gunnison County, and one that I did not enjoy while pre-riding. I was intimidated by the dirt-bike rutted creek crossings and their intricate roots. I had a hard time finding a flow 2 weeks earlier when I pre-rode it, and I found myself wishing I'd brought a moto to race on, despite the fact that I've never ridden a moto in my life.
Come race day I trudged up the climb, proudly learning that the best way to shoulder my bike was to heave it over my head, similar to the way I would do with my Army rucksack for road marches back in the day.
Dropping in 30 seconds behind Sarah in the huge high alpine cirque, I was able to keep her in my sights for the first few riveting minutes of the stage. When we dropped into the trees and the moto-whoops, I excitedly saw little clouds of dust on the trail and thought I was about to catch her. Instead, I passed 2 dudes before I came into the finish line. Sarah caught 3 dudes. Somehow she and I tied for the stage win.

Day 3 consisted of my favorite stage, Greens Creek, and Fooses, (which I had a hard time remembering much about, other than the fact that the entrance was gravity defy-ingly steep). We transitioned to both stages on the Monarch Crest. Early in the first pedal, it began to groppel. Which turned to sideways snow. By the time we arrived at the start line, there was a fire going at the shelter. We warmed up our hands as best we could, and prepared for some good-ol' wet, off-camber roots. Somehow I managed to have another clean run and finished overjoyed to have survived, and to have conquered my crippling fear of wet roots.

I stalled at the bottom of Greens and tried my hardest to savor every moment of the race. By the time I arrived back to the top of the Crest and was preparing to drop into Fooses, I was one of the last riders still on course. I felt good about Fooses and prepared to pin it. After cleaning the entrance and the first few turns, I put my bike down in a loose corner just as I was preparing to pass a rider in front of me. Eventually he broke his chain and I did pass him. Shortly thereafter I rode off course, over a log and into the woods. Suffice it to say, Fooses was not my strongest stage of the race. But I still managed to finish in my happy place.
Rest assured, I'll be back to race the Monarch Crest Enduro again next year.

Thanks to Keith Darner and everyone who had a hand in putting this one together.

Thanks to all my sponsors for helping me have an amazing year of racing.

Growing up, I never wanted to be a movie star. I aspired to be the first woman on Mars, or a doctor of some sort. Movie stardom just did not appeal to the young Leigh. Low and behold, I got to experience a taste of the big screen last weekend when I was selected by Spintertainment to be featured in one of their mountain bike spin videos.

I was forewarned that it would be tedious, exhausting days of riding the same section of trail over and over again to get the shots. I needed to mentally prepare myself to be physically punished. Therefore, I was not expecting to have so much fun.

The trail we settled on, Lenawee, is an utterly perfect trail (in my mind). We start with a sufferfest of a climb up A Basin ski area (to keep out the riff raff). And then we drop into one of the most sweeping, wide open, grin-inducing, and techy descents in Colorado.

Day 1 of 3 started out basically just as Eric Landis had predicted it would. An early morning start. Very cold temperatures. Riding the same section of trail over and over again. Before too long, Eric and Quinn showed me some of their favorite clips. My mind was blown. Even in the raw, on the tiny screens, the images were super crisp, artsy, and motivating. It made me want to ride harder. Eric and Quinn seemed to be tireless as they chased me up A-Basin all day long.

Towards the end of the afternoon, we were getting close to our goal of finishing the climb. Eric was inspired to get a new angle on the summit. So, despite Quinn's very vocal reservations, despite the strong gusts of wind, Eric launched the tiny helicopter and I took off towards the singletrack descent. Thus began our evening of scouring the upper slopes of the A-basin sidecountry looking for a lost, little, helicopter drone. Miraculously, Quinn found the high-tech piece of machinery, safely perched in a pine tree, about 300 feet below the summit.

Day 2 was physically much tougher for me. In addition to pedaling up A-Basin (again), I was rewarded with very short bits of descent, all of which required pushing my bike back up to ride down again. Eventually though, we got into the techy bits. And suddenly filming turned into a delightful session fest for me. Find the fun lines, became my mantra. By this point, I was starting to figure out how far to push my bike back up after each cut. And I was really having a delightful time.

Day 3 was much mellower. We were close to the bottom of the trail the previous evening.  We wanted to wait until afternoon light turned golden before starting to film again. So we had time to devour a very large breakfast of pancakes and eggs and pork green chile. And time to go play at the Frisco Bike Park (where Eric gave me some welcome pointers on cornering and climbing). When we finally got back to finishing filming, it was all business. We finished under perfect conditions. Golden, sideways light flickered through bright yellow aspen leaves for the final scenes. I was completely tired, sore, and ready to get back to my day job where I could rest.

I feel like a movie star. I think the child version of myself may have been wrong. Being a star for 3 days was super fun, and I would like to think I was good at it. I'm looking forward to the off season so I can watch Spintertainment Lenawee on my trainer. I'm also looking forward to training to the other Spintertainment videos coming out sometime in the next couple months.

Most of the summer is little more than a jumbled blur in my scattered, cortisol-laden mind. My dear grandmother passed away in late May and I flew to Wisconsin for the funeral. Then I quickly jetted back to work and racing. After the Glorieta Enduro, I raced the Angel Fire Enduro (NMEC #3) and BME Snowmass. I managed to ride strong and I felt really good about where I finished in each race, 3rd and 4th respectively. The competition was getting pretty tough, and I was exhausted after BME Snowmass in late June.

I'll spare you all the gory details, but on July 3rd, my life changed in a catastrophic way. My husband, Matt, was injured in a helicopter crash while at work as a flight nurse. He was lucky, but had to be flown to Denver for emergency surgery.

The first words he spoke after the anesthesia started wearing off were concerned questions about his co-workers.

Later that night, he started lamenting that our summer biking trip to the Pacific Northwest would have to be cancelled. Then he started telling me that I had to keep racing and stay on the bike, because I could. No pressure.

Despite Matt's wishes, I had a really hard time training for all of July and most of August. By, hard time, I mean it didn't happen. Family came to visit, Matt came home from the hospital, and the summer slipped away before I knew it. Enduro World Series Crested Butte, instead of the culmination of my first year racing pro and a chance to shine in one of my favorite places to ride, ended in tragedy (with the death of a racer), and left all of us questioning why we race. Mid-August found me feeling depressed and not myself.

I knew what needed to happen. I had to get back on the bike and get  normal and happy again. But knowing something doesn't always make it easy to do. Our first free weekend after Matt came home from the hospital left us staring at each other, not entirely sure what to do. Its rather awkward when your best friend can no longer participate in your favorite together activity with you. He offered to shuttle me on a high alpine ride, but I wasn't having it. I was stubborn, inky and tearful. So Matt left to go for a walk with the dogs. And I was stuck with my depressed self. So I loaded up my bike and drove to Leadville to get away from crowds. I found myself headed up the road to Mt Sherman. And then I started pushing my bike up Mt Sherman. I kept pushing until I was riding around on the summit. Somewhere between home and 14,035 feet, I started feeling much better. I texted Matt a summit-selfie. I felt like me again.

On the way up I had my picture taken by kind strangers that were amazed (and probably jealous) that I intended to ride down the mountain. On the summit there was a group of 3 fellas drinking beer and giving me major props. One of them had a hand gun tucked in to the waist of his pants. When I asked him about it, his response was concise and appropriate, "Merica."
The ride down was harrowing. Surfing steep scree and loose dirt will give you forearm pump before you know it. There was actually some hike-a-bike on the way down too. But it was worth it. I needed an adventure in a very bad way.

Suffice it to say that I overcame the inertia. I got back in the saddle about 2 weeks ago. Riding bikes is a magical potion that has the power to cure me.

I'm back to riding and adventuring. So that means I'm back to blogging.
Stay tuned. Here's a taste of what I've been doing for the past 2 weeks.

I look forward to biking more 14ers. But in the meantime, I'm just happy to have my daily dose of bike back in my life.

The Muscle- The Muscle makes us all feel weak. This part of the group powers through the climbs, with his steel single speed, carrying a 30 lb hydration pack and barely breaking a sweat. Then, she flies down the descents, ahead of the rest of the group to a) snap pictures or b) make the rest of us feel weak.

At some point, I have personally been each and every part of a group ride. On every group ride, someone is always going to be the slowest. There is almost always at least 1 mechanical, regardless of how many top-of-the-line, carbon trail bikes show up.  And when cycling social mores are broken, well that's the stuff of great memories.
- The truth is that when you ride with a group of stronger riders, you'll get stronger.
- If you're not sure of the rules of the trail, riding with more experienced riders is a great way to learn them. 
- Try to remember that everyone was a new guy at some point. 

And then delight in the fact that mountain biking is a fun experience that is almost always more delightful when shared with friends.

You may or may not know, I'm about to get a puppy. *squeal!*
All dogs are born good, but great dogs are made. 
Here's a montage of Tucker's on-trail training. 

I'll admit I might be biased. I lived in Leadville for a couple of stints when I first landed in Colorado (after a month of camping in the Walmart parking lot in Salida got a little old. In January). But I really feel that Leadville has it going on. If you are not riding there, at least a few times a summer, you are doing something wrong. And I know most of you are not riding there, because nearly nobody is. I suppose that's part of the allure. 

For me, today began at 3 am, when my phone screamed for me to get up and go to the ER for a very long case. After all the evidence was collected and both patients were discharged, I felt too sleep deprived to head to Keystone and bomb down lift-served terrain all afternoon. Add to that Tucker's big, brown eyes, begging for me to take him somewhere with an abundance of ground squirrels, and I decided to get out of Summit County for a the rest of the day.  
I landed a half hour away in another world. "Cloud City" is sort of a thriving ghost town. In the late 1800's, Leadville rivaled Denver in size and stature. Today, its a colorful collection of run down, saggy-roofed homes and mine tailings. Its an EPA Superfund site. Despite the toxic waste and the lack of oxygen, Leadville holds a mysterious allure. 

The Cloud City Wheelers, in cahoots with IMBA, have been doing an incredible amount of trail work over the past few years since I last lived in Leadville. The result is a delightful network of well- engineered, well-maintained, flowy, subalpine, single track. The Timberline Trails were likely named for the Timberline campus of CMC where the trailhead is located. Riding them was a blast today and gave me an ear-to-ear grin, despite the sleep depriation. Tucker had fun too.

For starters, unlike so many trail systems, Timberline is really well-marked with maps and signs. It is virtually impossible to get lost there. Paranoia caused me to take a picture of the map at the trailhead with my phone, but this proved unnecessary as there was an abundance of maps and signs at nearly every junction. Which was handy, because unlike other trail networks that you find on the edge of a town (Emerald Mountain in Steamboat, Lunch Loops in Grand Junction, Telegraph in Durango, Phil's in Bend or Cortez to name a few), there was not another soul on the trail. There was nobody to ask me directions (and vice versa). On a Saturday afternoon, mind you. Blue skies. 70 degrees. Perfect. PERFECT. 
Meanwhile, back in Summit County, bikes are whizzing by my house in hordes while Oktoberfest rages in Breckenridge. Summit County, according to some, is basically a suburb of Denver. Yet, Leadville, just 30 miles south on Hwy 91, is a peaceful gem of mountain biking shangri-la. 
Behold:

The trails are varied and all quite enjoyable. I particularly fancied Golddigger and Cold Feet, which included playful natural rock and boulder features as well as some new man-made park features. I would highly recommend Cold Feet to any ladies out there looking to start hitting drops and features. I rode it twice today. If you want a jaw-dropping view of Mt Massive and Mt Elbert with a sprinkling of golden quaking aspens all around you, pedal up to Upper Deck. Bring a beer. The deck is a nice place to soak up some sun and some suds. 

Other enjoyable rides in Leaville: 
- Various segments of the Colorado Trail.
- Twin Lakes- Interlaken.
- Turquoise Lakeshore out and back.
- Mt Elbert Enduro.
- Hagerman Lake/ Tunnel trail.
- Various unmarked secret trails on the East Side of town. 
- Check out the pump track in the middle of town. I challenge you to find a pump track with a finer view. 

After your ride, stop in for a slice of the best pizza pie in Colorado at High Mountain Pies. Its almost worth the trip by itself. I'm not kidding- they catered my wedding. Sit outside in the backyard and BYO Beer. They don't mind, which is nice, as they don't serve alcohol. 

If you're not sold on Leaville by this point, and your still reading, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe you should consider going bowling as there is a lovely bowling alley in town. If you are ready to ride in Leadville, drop me a line and I'd love to ride with you there. Or just show up and stop by Cycles of Life, the local bike shop. 

Either way, get thee to Leadville already. 

So many friends are injured. Its really starting to annoy me. How can I go for an epic lady shred fest when Jamie, Kelly and Sienna all have wrecked their ACLs? What am I supposed to do with Megan while her wing is in a sling, status-post proximal humerus fracture? 
The title of this post is somewhat of a misnomer. It should read something closer to, "How to have balance in you life, so that when you are injured, you don't go crazy." Because lets face it, with mountain biking, its not if you get injured, but when. In my case, I've been real lucky. Most of my wrecks have left me with very short stints off the bike. This season (knock on wood) has been fairly benign. Just a discolored, sausage-shaped brake finger. 

I raced The Captain in early June and did well. After the last stage was said and done, as I was riding back to the car, my front tire washed out in a corner and down I went. In slow-mo, I put my hand out and impaled my index finger on a boulder that refused to move. I was hoping that it was just a sprain, but alas, that was not to be the case. 

Despite the x-ray's finding of a "2nd digit proximal interphalageal intrarticular avulsion fracture," the finger didn't really seem to bug me riding. So I went ahead and kept riding. And shredding. And racing. And squeezing my craptastic brakes for all my broken-brake finger was worth. A week later, in fact, I was off to race the BME in Snowmass. This probably wasn't the wisest of choices I've ever made. But it makes sense why the finger hasn't seemed to have gotten much better, now more than 2 months later. I'm sure I'm well on my way to permanent arthritis at this point.

So I should have done what Kelly and Jamie and Sienna and Megan are doing. And what Liz and Elle and Tricia had to do last year. Rest and recovery. Not two of my favorite words. Its a frustrating journey that my lady shredders embark on without their trusty steeds. I really have to hand it to these bad-ass women for being able to work through their injuries and come back stronger on the bike, and as more well-rounded women, off the bike. 
Its probably a good idea to have a surplus of activities that don't involve being active so that when the bell tolls, I won't go completely bat-$h*t crazy from lack of stimulation. Hopefully.

As you can see, in addition to occasionally reading, working on my tan, and drinking beer and whiskey with friends, I like to bake, knit and dabble in reclaimed-bike-art-jewlery.
So maybe I'm guilty of having too many hobbies, or maybe I'm just well prepared for the inevitable. Either way you look at it, my finger is looking forward to the off-season.

Moving forward to the start line, the first amateur female to start each stage puts her front wheel on the blue Shimano tape, and earns a loud cheer of support and a playful, serenade of various bike bells, hoots and hollers. Somehow, we all learn each others names and we constantly give support to each other all weekend long. We rarely tease or taunt. Its just good-natured encouragement and smiles for us. 
The timing dudes smile and admit, "You guys are my favorite." Most of the other (mountain biking and Enduro are male-dominated sports) fields are very quiet and serious at their start lines. The amateur women, it seems, are really just out there to have a good time.

The thing about racing Enduro as an amateur woman, is that it really is just about having a good time. We are more apt to take a swig off a flask than to take time to find the right blend of electrolytes for race day. Instead of practicing our race runs and getting to bed early, we might go check out the home-made water slide at our group campsite.  

There's often a mid-day, mountain-top yoga session as a few of the competitors are certified yoga instructors. Have a knot in your back that needs a little work? Well, we can direct you to our favorite massage-therapist who happens to be a bad-ass lady-shredder.
We may be more focused on changing into pink spandex and tutu's than we are at watching the results board. And although this may result in some results-mishaps and podium errors, the fun times and good memories made, are well-worth the shenanigan-efforts. 

Racing Enduro as an amateur female might be intimidating for the un-initiated. But the reality is that you've got nothing to lose, and everything to gain. If you are thinking about trying a race as an amateur female, don't hesitate a minute more.

A lamentation on haste.


I came out of the first Big Mountain Enduro of the year (BME Snowmass)- stop #2 of the NAET), with a 2nd place finish in a strong field of fast women. I was left with a race high and a lightness in my step. Landing on the podium after 2 days of killer terrain in the backcountry and the bike park will certainly leave you buzzing. So when it came time to head back to Colorado Springs where I was fulfilling my civic duty as an Army nurse a Ft Carson, I took to the highway with glee, and a slightly heavy foot. Alright, I’ll be honest, I always have a lead foot, but I would like to take this opportunity to blame the sport.

Until about a year ago, on my way to BME Durango, I had a fairly pristine driving record (teenage years aside). Race weekends amp me up more than Red Bull or Mountain Dew ever could. I gave those beverages up as a teenager. I thought I had given up traffic violations too. On the way to Durango I got nailed doing well over the posted legal limit in the speed trap that I knew all about just south of Buena Vista. Yesterday the jerk clocked me at 12 over. I wasn’t even cornering. Now, I fear I am in danger of too many points in a calendar year and the subsequent loss of my driving privileges. At this point, that may not be such a bad thing. 

So I would like to speculate that racing bikes, (and being good at it), is correlated with speeding, and being good at it.

A friend of mine dates one of the a Pro Enduro-racer. You might have heard of him. He's fast and has wicked skills on the bike. Rumor has it that this guy is just as fast on 4-wheels as he is on 2. And he’s not shy about it. He’s got the radar detector, the black paint job, and his license plate is a clever combination of l’s and 1’s and 7’s- so that its hard to tell exactly what it reads. For example: 11I-I71. The guy is fast. And he’s good at going fast.

And then there are other friends. Good driving friends. The kind who take singletrack corners and technical terrain with a healthy dose of braking. They are skilled mountain bikers and fine automobile drivers, but they are not getting any podiums or speeding tickets. They are getting envy-inducing insurance rates and eco-friendly MPGs.

Coincidence? I think not.

Andrea and Colleen riding up the Pali chair.

This morning I awoke to the curse of  7 inches of fresh snow in the past 24 hours per my phone’s powder alert app. Yesterday’s report was 5 inches. That’s a foot in 2 days for all the math geeks out there. So I was begrudgingly forced to crawl around and bring my skis back upstairs, find some insulated gloves and snowpants, and prepare myself for another day without wheels. It had been a solid week since I had gone on a legit bike ride on dirt. Andrea and Colleen picked me up at 8 am and off I went, to the only ski area that is still open in Summit County, A-Basin. We chatted about our plans for tomorrow and what we’d been up to lately. Andrea asked me from the driver’s seat, “do you think you might be addicted to mountain biking?” I didn’t hesitate for a single heartbeat before answering, “oh yeah.”

We proceeded to make turns in powder and the other girls seemed to be really enjoying themselves. I felt like such a sour grape. I do enjoy skiing. No, really I do. We’ve  had some glorious powder days this year. Today might have been one of them. But for me, all I could think about was riding my bike on some singletrack.

I work as a family nurse practitioner. That means I’m constantly coming up with diagnoses and trying to help my patients live more healthy lives. My medical background and education give me some knowledge about addiction. And, may also lead to a very serious tone in this blogpost. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) is the bible of the American Psychiatric Association. Psychiatrists and other mental health professionals refer to it to diagnose patients with mental health disorders. The latest edition, the DSM V, kind of blows. So I will refer to the DSM IV.

Addiction (termed substance dependence by the American Psychiatric Association) is 
defined as a maladaptive pattern of substance use leading to clinically significant impairment 
or distress, as manifested by three (or more) of the following, occurring any time in the same 
12-month period: 
 
1. Tolerance, as defined by either of the following: 
 (a) A need for markedly increased amounts of the substance to achieve intoxication or 
the desired effect 
 or 
 (b) Markedly diminished effect with continued use of the same amount of the substance. 
2. Withdrawal, as manifested by either of the following: 
 (a) The characteristic withdrawal syndrome for the substance 
 or 
(b) The same (or closely related) substance is taken to relieve or avoid withdrawal 
symptoms. 
3. The substance is often taken in larger amounts or over a longer period than intended. 
4. There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control substance use. 
5. A great deal of time is spent in activities necessary to obtain the substance (such as 
visiting multiple doctors or driving long distances), use the substance (for example, 
chain-smoking), or recover from its effects. 
6. Important social, occupational, or recreational activities are given up or reduced because 
 of substance use. 
7. The substance use is continued despite knowledge of having a persistent physical or 
psychological problem that is likely to have been caused or exacerbated by the 
substance (for example, current cocaine use despite recognition of cocaine-induced 
depression or continued drinking despite recognition that an ulcer was made worse by 
alcohol consumption). 
 
DSM-IV criteria for substance dependence include several specifiers, one of which outlines 
whether substance dependence is with physiologic dependence (evidence of tolerance or 
withdrawal) or without physiologic dependence (no evidence of tolerance or withdrawal). In 
addition, remission categories are classified into four subtypes: (1) full, (2) early partial, (3) 
sustained, and (4) sustained partial; on the basis of whether any of the criteria for abuse or 
dependence have been met and over what time frame. The remission category can also be 
used for patients receiving agonist therapy (such as methadone maintenance) or for those 
living in a controlled, drug-free environment. 
 
Source: American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental 
Disorders. Fourth Edition. Washington, DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000. 

So to meet the criteria, I’ll only need to demonstrate 3 (or more) of those characteristics up above. Lets go down the list in an orderly fashion:

1. Tolerance. That’s an easy one. In the cycling world we call this conditioning. And yes, I have acquired some tolerance. I like my rides to last between 2-10 hours.

2. Withdrawal. Do I get irritable when I haven’t had a good ride in too long. You bet. *See above. *See below for my meager attempt at substituting a similar substance to avoid withdrawal.

3. The substance is taken in larger amounts over a longer period of time than intended. I have a special word for this: “epics.” Its a noun. Epics are typically unintended, but remembered fondly, once recovery from said epic has occurred. Yup, I got this one too.

4. Persistent desire to cut down and control use. Not really. But I am genuinely trying to cut back on racing this year. Ask anyone. Its true. So far I’ve only registered for 1 race. And it hasn’t been easy. So I would say I meet this criterion as well. That’s 4:4, but lets keep going.

5. Do I spend a great deal of time trying to get to trailheads, staring at bike porn, in the saddle and recovering from rides. Well, duh.

6. Important activities are given up because of use. This one is fuzzy because mountain biking is my social and recreational activity of choice. (I’m sure junkies have said the same thing about heroin). But it doesn’t pay the bills. I haven’t actually given up or lost a job because of mountain biking. But I have missed work due to races and injuries. Lets say I don’t meet this one because its a little grey.

7. Do I keep riding, despite multiple head injuries, numerous scars and scabs, loss of 1 tooth and a good bit of facial tissue? Yes. Have people told me its not good for me? Yes.

So I meet 6:7 of the diagnostic criteria above. But what about the definition itself? “A maladaptive pattern of ‘substance’ use leading to clinically significant impairment or distress.” Here’s the real tricky part. Is mountain biking maladaptive? Does it cause me significant impairment?

So after I had my fill of skiing the fresh powder this morning, (I lasted a whole whopping hour), I sat in Andrea’s car and waited for one of the other girls to wander down and be ready to go ride bikes. Colleen wasn’t feeling well, so she and I bailed while Andrea kept skiing (all day long I presume- she might have an addiction of her own). At home, I frantically made some tunes to my new rigid singlespeed and checked the weather reports everywhere within an hour drive, trying to predict the driest place to ride. I gambled on Eagle, CO and off I went. I drove through soaking rain to get there, hoping against all hope that somehow it would be dry enough to ride when I arrived. About 5 minutes from the trailhead, 2 tears ran down my face as I resigned myself to my fate. I could either ride the wet trails and cause unethical trail damage, or I could turn around and drive home, my craving left unsatisfied. 

Making lemonade when the sky rains lemons.

I compromised and went for a trail run instead. This wasn’t terrible. I used to love running. Well, at least I loved the part when it was over. The whole time I was thinking how the trail wasn’t that wet, and I could probably ride it without making too much of a mess. Soon I was back at the car and faced with a decision. There was a skinny, spandex-clad fellow changing into dry clothes at the trailhead and I sized up his carbon hardtail and the extra pounds of clay that were coating it. We chatted a bit about the weather and our mutual dilemma. I could tell he didn’t get enough of a ride in. He drove off and I sulked for a little bit longer while the rain picked up. I drove home, thinking about how if I moved to the Pacific Northwest, I could ride year round, rain, shine or snow. 

Yes I have a problem. But its part of who I am. I may demonstrate some maladaptive behaviors and I do exhibit distress related to my problem. But at least I can admit that I have a problem. What about you?

PS- I am about to cry again as I just got a winter storm warning in my inbox. 

Summit County trail conditions: Facebook page- Like it!

Recent article I read about mountain biking addiction. I think it has a bit too strong of a Jeff Foxworthy element for my tastes, but it also makes some valid points: 20 signs your addicted to mountain biking

Mud Season. It was a new one for me when I first moved to the high country of Summit County, Colorado. Now its a painful slogan for the periods of time in between winter and summer, when everything turns to soup. Trails are un-ridable and the snowpack is dismal. The locals tend to migrate to high mountaintops or low desert areas, depending on their preferred sport. As amateur, yet competitive mountain bikers, or ‘Chics who shred,’ as we fondly refer to ourselves, we prefer the desert. So when Kelly suggested a 2-day, private skills clinic in Moab, with one of our favorite coaches, Wendy Palmer, we jumped at the opportunity. The 4 of us ladies hail from Steamboat Springs, Boulder, Frisco, and Grand Junction, Colorado. We’ve all been riding singletrack for years and we all enjoy racing, be it Endurance, XC, CX, DH or our latest favorite and the discipline that brought us together, Enduro.

For our afternoon session, we elected to ride Hymasa/Amasa and work on corners and small techy-sections. One of the major benefits of booking our own private clinic, was that in addition to choosing the coach of our dreams, we got to choose where to ride and what to work on. Sadly, we couldn’t reserve Amasa Back all to ourselves, and the afternoon break in the nasty weather saw dozens of Jeepers and other mountain bike-enthusiasts out on the trail. We tried our best to play nice and share the trail. At the end of the coaching portion, we bid adieu to Wendy and decided to practice putting it all together. We had a lovely evening ride on Ahab (a minor mishap leading to a nearly epic finale with two girls cuddling beneath SuperVan in a thunderstorm), and then rolled back into town to celebrate with friends. 

Day two:

We opted to arrange our own shuttle for Porcupine Rim, one of my all-time favorite trails in the world.  We made a last minute decision to push back our meeting time an hour later in the morning. Partly so that we could give the fresh snow an extra 60 minutes of thaw-time, and partly so that we had extra time to recover from the late night revelling that took place in honor of a successful fundraiser for Pedal for Chi on Saturday night. So we all loaded into SuperVan and enjoyed the scenery on our ride up Sand Flats Road. It really is jaw-dropping to see the red slickrock covered in a layer of wet frosting in the early spring. And the real treat comes when your wheels bite into a slice of the hero dirt that is created by the little bit of extra moisture. 

Highlights from day 2 included: 

*Our trademark victory “meows.” 

*Meredith getting hit on by a posse of spandex-wearing, middle-aged men, none of whom wanted to try riding the Snotch. 

*All of us polishing the all important “pump and snap.”

*Sienna’s scream of joy when she landed the extra credit drop in front of a another posse of spandex-wearing, middle-aged men. 

**And most of all, hanging with a sweet group of BAMF- chics who shred. 

In hindsight, I wish I would've done this sooner. Booking a private skills clinic in Moab was ideal for us. Having the freedom to choose where we rode, which skills we worked on and the power to rearrange our schedule based on the weather conditions and the severity of our hangovers was key to making it a successful weekend. The skills and confidence we gained this early in the season are difficult to quantify. I can’t wait to get out there and crush this year.