AFM Round 5, California State Championship Round 2, at Infineon Raceway

I had three different doctors telling me there was no chance in hell I’d be racing a motorcycle on July 9. I’m sure it’s something motorcycle racers have heard often, but I’ve been pretty lucky thus far in my sporting life and have managed to avoid traumatic injury.

That is, until I got on a damn bicycle.

First, in November, I threw myself over the bars on the stupid Los Gatos Campbell creek trail. It was the morning after a storm, and wet leaves were disguising a jutting up tree root in the paved path. Add some hands set down loosely on the bars, and a brisk 17 mph pace, and you get the wind knocked out of you and yet another broken helmet for the collection.

February, I was asked to lead a bunch of newbie riders who were just starting to train for a century ride. I looked behind to my left to make sure they were all there, overcorrected and went up on the curb to my right. Bruised my pelvis, got some rash, fixed my bent wheel at a bike shop, and rode another 40 miles solo with my tail tucked between my legs.

April, on the Los Gatos trail again, this time with Nikki. The San Jose Bike Party scouting crew came rolling up in the opposite direction. A drunk hipster cheeseball crashed right in front of me, and I ran his sorry ass over, also crashing. Bruised my arm, no big deal.

And then, of course, my first bicycle race, June 12. After practicing with the San Jose Bicycle Club’s Tuesday Night Crits, I felt ready. A highly technical criterium course, new trick tubies I borrowed from a friend…hey. I race motorcycles. I got this.

Thank god I didn’t hurt anyone else. And why don’t bicycle racers wear, like, Kevlar-infused bike shorts? Had I had some, I might not have the enormous crescent moon shaped scar on my lovely hip right now. Before that wound was stitched up, the sexy ER doctor called in his buddies for a look, because my split-open hip was that cool.

Anyway, he told me I wouldn’t race. My cute Indian lady family doctor told me I wouldn’t race. The dog lady orthopedist told me I wouldn’t race. Even the ex-football player sports medicine doc told me I wouldn’t race…but he did tell me I could start riding my bicycle again July 1. Weird, bicycles are seeming more dangerous to me these days.

None of them understood how much I wanted to race, and that I had the points lead in the AFM and California State Championships. No one gets it. I feel like next time I go to a doctor like that, I will bring a powerpoint deck that paints a better picture than I can about what it is I care about so damned much.

So yeah, I raced. But I experienced some new emotions while on track. Fear. The nagging thought, “hey, I could just…crash…right now.” I was so slow, a little girl on an SV passed me. Coming out of the CAROUSEL. Oh god…well, I hoped I’d pick up speed throughout the day and the weekend. I was also exhausted, out of shape, and sore after about two sessions. All these added up to extraordinarily off pace laptimes. I was consistently running 1:48s in practice just a few months ago, and Saturday, the best I could muster in the race was a 1:52. Of course, add in a turn 9 highside in May, and a Thunderhill Turn 1 crash in June, and maybe you can understand why this girl was feeling a little apprehensive.

Once my bike was set up, I spent my free time obsessing about Dani, the little SV girl. And Shelina, the AMA pro racer. And Krystyna, on her R1, who, as soon as she figures out that little brain of hers, will be handing my ass to me from here to Las Vegas. And Jenn, who has it in her, but just hasn’t brought it yet. She could bring it, any day. And Marisol, who’s been picking up speed.

When the green flag of the AFemme race dropped, I got an adequate start and just rode my tail off. I didn’t see a single girl until I started lapping some of them. Each time I rode around, exhausted and out of my mind, I desperately looked towards the pit wall for Ross, the rocket scientist mechanic, and his outstretched arms indicating my lead.

Having spent a lifetime overanalyzing the signals that members of the opposite sex give me, I found myself wondering, “are his arms stretched out just a little less than they were last lap? Wait, where is he? What does that mean, if he’s not even at the wall? Maybe they are stretched out more than last time, and I can settle down…oh wait, no, they look closer together now, shit.” And on and on.

Finally the checkers, pain relief, and champagne. I got really lucky this round that these girls weren’t quite up to speed either, for whatever reason. I loved that there were fourteen chicks out there racing, and apparently there were some epic battles between 2nd and 6th or so. I love that. We’ve never had enough girls for there to really even be any battles.

Speaking of battles…I miss Joy. Such a classy dame, and fast to boot. She’s been my inspiration for so long, I’ve almost thought about loaning her my B bike from last year, just so she can make the grid and come play with me.

I didn’t race Sunday. I don’t care quite as much about Sunday, especially when I’m only managing 1:52s. I don’t have a lot of interest in battling with a bunch of guys in the back of a huge 600 Superbike grid, plus, my legs felt like cooked vermicelli and I was finding myself losing focus on the track quite a few times.

Remember those crashes I mentioned, the motorcycle ones? There was also a broken motor thrown in there for good measure. For each one, Alex Torres from Fastline Cycles sourced the parts, did the work, and put the finishing touches back on my bike, all so I could go out and race again. I couldn’t have done this weekend without him.

Thanks also to my new sponsors Leo Vince Exhaust Systems, who helped me make my beautiful Corsa Race system look beautiful once again, and Mission City Signs, who helped put the “rawr” into my new bodywork with custom vinyl leopard print wrap. Ross and Nikki were amazing pit crew as always, and Nikki did quite well this weekend also, hitting a new personal best laptime even after a little tipover in Turn 9 last round.

I’d also like to thank Chris Maguire and Corey Neuer of CT Racing and Pirelli, ACT Racing and G&B Cycle Pro of Santa Rosa. Thanks for being my fans and sponsors. Love you guys!

Last, but not least, my ridiculously awesome parents. They live to care for their family. They are so selfless, loving, fun, and caring people, and are so supportive of me, my life and my hobbies. Of course, they are too scared to come watch me race, but they always eagerly await the “all clear” and “how’d you do” at the end of the race day. Thank you for caring for me, shopping for me, cooking for me and taking me to doctor appointments while I was down. Love you!

The unofficial results - 12 second lead at the line!

AFemme Race Photo from Mark Hindman