Step 1: Know when to say when.
If you read my blog about how to tell if you have a concussion, you know that it is really easy to diagnose yourself with concussion and you'll never have a hard time knowing what is and isn't a concussion. Yeah right.
It's actually quite complicated and not always black and white, but in general, When in doubt, sit it out. Step 1 is really removing one's self from any further risk of harm. In a head-injured state, your balance, judgment and stamina are all compromised. Continuing to ride and (God forbid), compete, are a pretty good recipe for more serious injury.  

Step 2: Rest.
Easy peasy. A couple days off, in the thick of the summer, when all your friends are going to shuttle that ride. You know, the one we've been waiting for and the conditions are finally just right and so-and-so's girlfriend is going to drive. You get it: it can be hard to rest. Luckily, the latest research supports a graduated approach to rest as opposed to the concussion treatment of yester-year when we told athletes to sit in a dark room with no tv, cell phone or stimulation. Sound depressing? Well, depression can be a symptom of concussion and "cocooning" in a dark room is likely to make it worse.
I recommend to my concussion patients that they:
- Avoid any contact prone activity. This includes mountain biking, but does not include a gentle spin on a stationary trainer or a walk on the rec path. Google "second impact syndrome" if you're questioning the recommendation to avoid contact prone activities.
and
- Don't do the things that make it worse. If spinning on a stationary trainer makes the whole room spin, don't do it. If going to work and staring at a computer screen all day makes your head throb, don't do it (talk to your boss about perhaps modifying your duties, if possible, or just use some sick time).
- Have a good routine. Get a consistent (hopefully about 8 hours) amount of sleep every night. Eat regular, balanced meals and get consistent amounts of mild physical activity daily, like a gentle spin or a hike.

Step 3: Recover.
This is the tricky bit that science hasn't quite figured out (but its getting better, I swear!). Compared to how to help your brain recover from concussion, diagnosing concussion is a piece of cake. Most medical providers don't have a lot to offer to the typical concussion patient. I recommend catching up on those non-bike related hobbies (click here if you need any ideas) and using a step-wise approach to getting back in the saddle. There is absolutely no way to predict how long recovery from concussion might take for any particular person. That said, as a general rule of thumb, if you are not feeling mostly back to 100% two weeks after your head injury, its probably time to get help.
STEP 4: Know when to say help.
If you go to your doctor for a concussion that isn't getting better, there's a good chance you might meet a provider who is not aware of all the resources available to help manage head injury these days. Don't be afraid to speak up and ask for a referral to a concussion specialty clinic. Or ask if there is a specialist who can help with rehab in your particular area of need. More and more physical therapists and occupational therapists are helping with concussion recovery in areas like balance and memory. Behavioral health therapists can help with symptoms of depression. Optometrists and ophthalmologists can help with visual deficits. Don't be afraid to ask your primary care provider for a referral if they seem to be at their wits end and are telling you that you just need to rest and wait it out after many weeks of continued concussion symptoms. 

Do not despair: There is a lot of new and exciting science regarding concussion and we are getting better and better at managing this complicated problem.
Feel free to contact me or post a comment if you have questions about concussion, ImPACT testing or recovery.
Ride bikes and be well!

Each time another friend eats dust and admits that they hit their head, I experience an internal struggle. There's the mountain biker in me, competitive, familiar with head injury, and aware that they'll probably be fine if they just take it a little easy and drive on. And there's the clinician in me that understands that concussion is a multi-faceted, complex neuropsychiatric phenomenon that can have long-lasting sequelae and put its victims at immediate risk for further injury. Lastly, there's the scholar in me, who knows that there is SO MUCH that we have yet to understand about concussion, traumatic brain injury (TBI) and chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE). So I usually end up giving my friends some convoluted and tangential recommendations about how to treat themselves.

So here's exactly how to know, 100%, without a doubt, if you have a concussion. Yeah right.
1. Did you hit your head? [Yes] [No] [Not Sure]
Sadly, any answer to this question may or may not lead to a concussion. It turns out you don't have to hit your head to experience brain trauma. Energy can distribute through the body, after an impact to the back or some other body part and lead to movement inside the skull that causes the neurometabolic cascade of concussion. In so many of the high speed crashes that we have all experienced, we're left wondering if we did actually hit our head. Or we may not even think about the noggin because our ribs or back or pinkie finger are causing so much pain that it is distracting us from our most precious and fragile of organs.

​2. Is your helmet MIPs certified and free of previous crashes? A full face or a half shell? Black, pink or camouflage? Have you inspected it for damage? Were you not even wearing a helmet?
Guess what, doesn't matter. See #1- you don't even have to hit your head to experience a concussion. That said, helmets are amazing at preventing skull fractures and can certainly do wonderful things for reducing the risk of very serious TBIs like subdural, epidural and intracranial hemorrhage and hematoma, (which are all much more dangerous than concussion and potentially life-threatening). So if you answered that you weren't wearing a helmet, you might be an idiot. Please take an inteligence test immediatley. That said, helmet technology leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to concussion. So just because the pretty helmet is still intact and unscathed, doesn't really tell us what's going on inside your pretty brain. 

3. How do you feel? Dizzy, Foggy, Tired, Giddy, Sad, Angry, Headache, Nausea, Memory difficulty, Fatigue, Sensitive to light, Sensitive to sound, Balance problems, Trouble sleeping, Sleeping too much.
Above is a list of some potential concussion symptoms. This is not a comprehensive list. You do not need to have any of these symptoms to meet the criteria for concusion. And to further muddy the water, if you are suffering from a recent TBI, odds are that your judgement is impaired and it may be really hard to detect any symptoms.

So you may have already figured this one out, but if you suspect you have a concussion, then you probably have a concussion. There is no test for a concussion.** We have great tests for bleeding in your brain and fractures in your skull and one day, there may be something groovy like a genetic blood test to predict how susceptible you are to getting a concussion. But today, this doesn't exist. So, when in doubt, sit it out. There is no amount of sick trail or a podium high enough to be worth damaging your brain.
​
I started writing this post about a month ago and I almost didn't post it as I've seen numerous articles pop up about the subject and I thought we might be saturated with head injury articles. But then I was at the BME Finals this weekend in Crested Butte where I watched no fewer than 3 racers go over the bars right in front of me. In a small section of just 1 stage of a multi-day enduro. I thought a short, easy to read, write up could be helpful for those of us who like to self-diagnose. Here are links to Pinkbike and Outside magazine's more lengthly articles if you want to read more about how TBI can cause long term symptoms and how CTE is slowly killing athletes. 

​Think you have what it takes to complete a 6 day enduro directed by Megan Rose on the sickest trails interior BC has to offer? So did I. At various times during this #adventureofalifetime, I wasn’t so sure. Read on to learn how I managed to survive. 

​Step 1: Bring your skill set.
 
            The very first stage of the first day was quite a wake up call for me. I fully expected the Trans BC to be hard. Megan had sent emails detailing the 4-5,000 feet of climbing and upwards of 6,000 feet of descending we would be doing each day. But for some reason, I figured the trails would be intermediate to advanced as far as how technically demanding they might be. How could she expect us to be on our A-game for 6-8 hours each day, 6 days in a row?
            The first few turns on course were steep, off camber switchbacks in a freshly cut hiking trail. I came in hot and tipped right over. Luckily, the loam wasn’t too different from riding a fat bike in snow and I was able to sort of figure it out. I still managed to have 2 more crashes in that first stage, including an over-thebars that sent me way off trail (thanks for being so soft, loam!).
            At the bottom of that first stage, I learned that Sonya Looney, one of the females that I was betting on to podium, had flatted at the top and had made the decision to run most of that stage. I learned quickly that I needed to toughen up if I was going to survive this week-long race. 

​Step 2: Decisions you make the night before can have a huge effects on race day.
 
            Penticton wins the prize for my favorite trails of the Trans BC. Exposed, sharp, rocky cliff bands with blind drops and ledges are my sauce. I was having a blast. We had been forewarned that at least 25% of us would have a flat on day 2. I had planned to put on a second Vittoria Morsa with a DH casing to match the one I had on my front wheel. Out of laziness, I decided to increase the air pressure instead of swapping to a fresher, burlier tire. I was relishing in my wisdom as I dropped into stage 6 of 7 towards the end of the long day. After just a couple of fun, over-aggressive drops and pumps, I felt sudden sluggishness from the back end. I stopped to check and although not an epic blow-out (multiple racers had ripped off knobs and created large holes in their sidewalls in Penticton), my tire had gone entirely flat. I quickly pulled off the trail and tried to isolate where the tire had punctured or torn. No luck. Maybe it was too flat to tell where the repair was needed or maybe it had already sealed and I just needed to fill it back up. So I added a CO2 cartridge … or tried to. No air would go in and the CO2 was quickly spent. So I tried another. And then I was out of options and I elected to start running the trail. Sonya, who was sympathetic as she sped by, quickly passed me. Long story short, the flat was in the bead of the tire, and un-repairable. I was able to throw a tube in after running a kilometer or 2 to the kindest trail marshal in the world (thanks Tara!), and rode the rest of the stage without issue.
            In crystal clear hindsight, I should have put that heavier tire on. I was pretty sour to have lost about 18 minutes to my competitors and finished in last place on day 2. Lesson learned. Laziness never pays off.

​Step 3: Hold on to the bars
 
            Rossland, BC is a beautiful area. We started the day on the Seven Summits trail system and finished on an old school DH trail at Red Mountain Resort. I felt in my element again, but minus a competitive agenda. I knew there was no way to make a comeback from my 18ish minute flat tire time loss. So I elected to ride in a “lady train." Some other fun-loving ladyshredders and I elected to join forces and to drop into stages in rapid succession. This led to giggles and a little bit of friendly banter on course. Naturally, it also led to less painful transitions. This equals more fun.
            By the end of the day, I was struggling to hold on to the bars; forearm fatigue/arm pump was setting in and it would not let up for the rest of the race. Luckily, we had luxurious trailside condo at Red Mountain Resort, complete with hot tub to recover in. Trans BC was treating us right. But you can never do too many pull ups to prepare for an event like this.

​Step 4: Its good to be blind. Don't spend too much time scoping out your line.
 
            I loved this day of racing. It was a mixture of “well built” trail and scary, what-the-heck-am-I-doing-here trail. Stage 4, “Flume” was easily the most technically demanding trail of the day and my personal favorite. The name of the trail, “Flume,” is particularly ironic to me because the Flumes trails up here in Breckenridge are super buff, beginner friendly paths.
At the top of this particular stage, I was reminded of a valuable lesson; sometimes you ought not to look before you leap. The start of the stage was a mess of nervous women when I arrived. The overwhelming theme was, “I’m just gonna run this section, cyclocross-style.” The competitive side of my brain felt it prudent to be the chic that cleaned it. The rational side of my brain was telling me how starting the trail on foot instead of wheels down, was starting it off on the wrong foot. All signs pointed to “ride it!” Luckily I got to watch Meggie Bichard, Mical Dyck and Karey Watanabe (in her highly fashionable running shorts) all polish the section clean, inspire confidence in me. The rest of the stage went well despite a light rain. All in all, it was a really good day and I finished in 5th place.
Racing blind may be a strength of mine. Some of my greatest moments of technical skill have occurred on trails that were unknown to me. I think there is something to be said for not pre-riding and working myself into a tizzy about a particular feature or section of trail.

​Step 5: Remember that what goes up, must come down.
 
            It was our first day in Nelson and I knew I would do great things. Despite driving in a steady downpour from Rossland, I managed to remain optimistic. After all, this was my 5th day riding wet trail conditions and I was doing great. And my legs felt less fatigued than they had the previous day.
            As we stepped off our yellow school bus, I got some insider information from one of the course marshals that all of the wooden features on stage 1, “Powerslave,” were rollable and appeared faster than the go-arounds. I felt confident and inspired to do great things. The top of the stage was truncated on account of the soaking rain, which only acted to further inflate my hubris. Eventually, I had to come down from the imaginary podium I had built for myself.
            I hit the first wet, wooden feature and it was a steep one. Up and over I went, maybe a little slow, but I managed to clear it without having to pedal, brake or turn (which are pretty important steps when you are navigating greasy, wet rainbow arches). Upon exiting the feature, I hit the brakes on some slimy roots/rocks, and I sent myself flying. Hard. Head first into a tree. But the searing pain was coming from my leg (which turned out to just be a deep bruise). Suddenly I was a 4 year old, cold wet and hurt, just learning my way through the world. I had no idea how to ride a bike, let alone a mountain bike. On high speed, super techy, scarier than the boogie-man trails, I was completely lost and full of self-doubt.
            At the bottom of the stage, tears welled up in my eyes. I felt fatigued. Defeated. I contemplated quitting as we transferred to the next stage. I couldn’t pedal without great pain stabbing me in my right thigh. What was I doing here? This went on for the remainder of the day. 

​Step 6: You’ll get by with a little help from your friends, so have fun.
 
            We awoke to more rain. And we were still in Nelson, so I planned to have a real rough final day. I was pleasantly surprised to experience less pain in the bruised banana of a thigh that was attached to my right hip. So maybe I would make it through. The first stage was not my finest work; and I did a lot of walking next to my bike and a good bit of soul searching.
            On stage 2, I rode another lady train, this time, I was the chosen caboose. Somehow I was able to stay on the bike and things started to feel fun again. Halfway through "Swamp Donkey," the hail started. At the bottom of the stage there was a campfire and tents with bacon sizzling and whiskey begging to be tipped back in the rain. High fives and spirits soared when, just as suddenly as this bought of rain came, the sun came out and steam started to rise from all of our saturated bodies. 
            Stage 3 was fun. I rode my bike as best as I could. I rode fast, even though my arms were pumped, hands were numb and legs were bruised and battered. And my spirits soared. Riding bikes is the bees knees. Even when it breaks my character one day, another day it can turn everything around.

Now that I've had a week to reflect on the experience, I wouldn't change a thing. Ok, maybe I would have changed that tire for Day 2. But I wouldn't have changed the weather or my mental meltdown or the highly technical trails. Because I feel like I grew a lot at Trans BC, as a rider and as a person. I know that sounds more cliche than just about anything, but that's really how I feel. 
So many thanks to Megan, Ted and all of the Trans BC crew. Thank you to Tara, MK, Beth, Kathleen and the countless volunteers who were out there shivering and smiling everyday. And thanks to everyone who came to race. See you next year!

​​So here’s my shortlist of all of the feminine qualities that mountain biking has taught me to discover in myself:

4. Prettiness 
I’ll admit it: helmet hair, baggy shorts over a sweaty chamois, and some fairly atrocious tan lines are not classically feminine. Perhaps that’s why so many of us ladyshredders are out there with pigtails, unicorn socks and colorful kits. Before mountain biking, I felt like I had to hide my feminine features. After mountain biking, I tend to try to put them on display while I'm on the bike. Maybe I just like the contrast. 
5. Acceptance
Although you can do it alone, mountain biking is a very social activity. Like drinking beer, it's best to enjoy it with others in order to prevent a potentially unhealthy addiction. I personally look forward to group rides and races so that I can hang out with friends doing what we do best. And although we often come from regions near and far and we all have various idiosyncrasies, mountain biking is the great equalizer that brings us all together. 
6. Nurturing
Now that I’ve been mountain biking for a solid decade, I have the skillset and experience to teach and guide others. I am able to work as an instructor on one of the most technical bike parks out there and I volunteer coach beginner women with The Cycle Effect. Being able to nurture others into the sport is super rewarding and gives me a whiff of feeling like a proud mama-bear.
7. Passion
Before I found mountain biking, I dabbled in lots of things. But mountain biking has been my first real passion in life. It's something I go asleep thinking about at night and wake up looking forward to in the morning. There's a real good chance I'll dream about it tonight. ​

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.