Back in the Saddle

Posted on August 1, 2011 by Christie

Had a pretty rad day at Thunderhill today with Pacific Track Time. I was riding my race bike, the 2009 Fastline Cycles R6, and Ross, the rocket scientist mechanic, was riding his surprisingly beautiful salvaged R6, resurrected from an abusive past with loving care and used parts off of eBay. It looked much, much better than I had anticipated. The RSM brought along a friend, the TPFA (Tall Pretty Flight Attendant), Tammy, and she busied herself with swatting away flies, taking photos of the on track activity, and reading Thoreau. Yes, Thoreau.

I was just trying to stop being so scared on track. During my last race weekend, I was still really sore in the hip area from my cycling injury, and I was also completely freaked out in every turn, looking at the ground with my knee on it going, “you know what, I could just…CRASH…right now.” It had been a few years since I’d ridden like such a scared little girl, and my race times reflected it. I think after having dealt with the ordeal of an ambulance ride and a hospital stay, you realize just how quickly things can go south on these two wheeled torture devices.

Why not just give up? Pack up my stuff, go home, and take a nap? Plan a little weekend trip to the farmer’s market? I don’t know. I just keep at it. I have goals, plans, things to see, people to do. This season, I’m leading a few women’s motorcycle racing championships, and like someone who can’t put a good book down, I have to just read the next chapter. Do the next race. Pass the next level. Win. Duh.

To achieve my goals, I must rid myself of this scared business. So I rode around and got reacquainted with my old friend Thunderhill. I’ve really only done ten laps on it so far this year; ten laps in at my first track day this year, I had a mechanical and crashed in Turn 1, one of the fastest turns on the track. We reassembled my bike, but then the rest of the weekend was rained out. I rode around and tried to work on the fundamentals, lines, smoothness, taking away brake pressure while adding lean angle, adding throttle while taking away lean angle, and going fast. I didn’t go particularly fast. But I was having fun and feeling more comfortable.

I thought my bike felt pretty good, but I was looking forward to having Jason Hauns, of JPH Suspension Services, do some suspension work with me the next day. It held its lines well, and it seemed to turn in quite well into slower turns. As usual. The faster turns, harder turn ins.

At the end of the warm day Nikki, the PBM (pretty blonde mechanic) showed up in a pretty dress and proceeded to change her rear wheel. When she finished, we popped upon a bottle of Willows vintage sparkling wine and tottered around to say hi to some friends. After a fine meal at Casa Ramos, we hit the sack early and did what best friends do. No, we didn’t talk about boys, or have a lingerie pillow fight and then make out. Using our little smart phones, we scoped out some girl racers we heard would be visiting us at the next race round and wondered how fast they’d be, and if we would beat them. We concluded that we should focus our efforts on making ourselves faster; then there will be fewer questions.

Okay, maybe we talked about boys too.

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

Posted on July 13, 2011 by Christie

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

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Back in Business

Posted on July 6, 2011 by Christie

This little honey badger did know, FYI, that I’d been stung…I’d been bitten by the snake.

“The poisonous venom seeped through the honey badger’s body and she PASSED out on the sidewalk of the Taleo Criterium! What a sleepy fuck! So the honey badger’s just gonna pass out for a few weeks and then she’s gonna get right back up and start pedaling all over again, cause she’s a hungry little bastard. Look at this! Like nothing happened! The honey badger gets right back up and goes on a kick ass bicycle ride! How disgusting!”

Well, three weeks ago today I was discharged from Good Samaritan Hospital after a night spent wondering if my cobra bite was infected. It’s been a tough three weeks, but I am in no position to complain after seeing some much more horrific injuries suffered by my motorcycle racing friends from time to time. Adam S., Mike W., Jaime K., Shawnery H., Rob S., to name a few, and then Eric Arnold, Peter Lenz and Joe Pusateri, may they rest in peace.

This was nothing.

It hasn’t been awesome though, it was the most serious traumatic event of my little life. Thinking back on it, I think both about how lucky and how unlucky I was. Mostly lucky. I could have broken my neck, or had my helmet on a little too loose that day. The ambulance ride was embarrassing and uncomfortable; I felt an insistent pain down at my hip and was afraid to look after hearing the EMTs say things like, “I think that must be her iliotibial band,” (how disgusting is that!) and “there’s the pelvic bone…” (oh that’s so nasty!). My perpetually injured back ached from lying supine on what felt like a concrete board.

But more than anything, I feel immense, peaceful gratitude that three weeks later I’ve already started pedaling, putting down 112 easy miles in the past four or five days. I even got to enjoy some lighter recreational activities, while convalescing, that I might have otherwise spurned for things more worthy of a honey badger.

For a couple weeks there was a lot of ambiguity about how soon I could actually begin riding again, or how my recovery was going to pan out. People warned me that my bone-deep wound was in such an important area of the hip joint that it’d likely be months before I could ride a bicycle, or motorcycle, again. This was pretty stressful. I like to know things. I can handle it, but I don’t prefer uncertainty. I share myself openly with others, and I prefer that they return the favor. When both doctors, and boys, disappoint, is when they simply don’t know the answers, or themselves.

Today, Wednesday morning, I feel amazing. I’m excited about my banged up motorcycle almost being put back together, and I’m excited about how quickly my banged up body has healed itself. I’m going to ride at the Zoom Zoom Trackdays practice day on Friday and then evaluate whether or not I think it’s a good idea for me to race AFM (and the second round of the California State Championship) the weekend. But I think we’re back in business.

Posted in Bicycles | 2 Comments

First Bicycle Race, First Ambulance Ride

Posted on June 17, 2011 by Christie

I really don’t know where it all went wrong.

I’ve bombed down hills at nearly 50 mph, set downhill records for descents like Highway 9 and Kings Mountain Road, and felt extremely comfortable, and was perceived to look very comfortable, while riding and racing in a pack at the three or four Tuesday Night Crits that the SJBC has put on this year.

I have focus, and caution, and confidence, skills sharpened over the past four years I’ve spent racing motorcycles, winning motorcycle races, and navigating the starts of motorcycle races from the middle of a pack of fifty excitable, mostly male, experts and novices all jostling for position on 100hp+ machines in the first few laps of a sprint race. I’ve controlled the slides of tires on my truck, my BMW, my go kart, my motorcycle, and yes, even my bicycle. Although on the pedal bike, I can’t say I’ve controlled the slide, but I’ve experienced slides and kept it upright.

I’ve proven to be a cautious, yet quick and assertive motorcycle racer. I’m not crashy. Some people are crashy. We all know the ones.

Yet somehow I’ve been crashy on my pedal bike. I’ve fallen down a few times in my first year of real training. Most significantly, twice at around 15-20 mph. Stupid mistakes, rookie mistakes, but I learned a lot from both of them. Both times I was able to continue my ride.

I borrowed a friend’s race wheels. I was also told from multiple people that if anything, race wheels would have more traction and be a help, not a hindrance, to the completion of a fast and safe bicycle race.

So then why, bicycle, why oh why did you buck me off like a bad cowgirl?

BICYCLE...Y U...

BICYCLE...Y U...

At the start line of the Taleo Crit, my first bicycle race, I looked over at a friend and said, “why am I out here? What the hell am I doing here?” I was smiling, and shaking my head, but I was confident and excited to be in the mix, redlining my motor and (cautiously) stuffing my nimble, daring little bicycle into places Cat 3/4 girls would never dream I’d go. I’d taken two sighting laps and noticed a couple of fast turns, but never imagined I’d find myself on the exit of turn 6 struggling to control a bicycle that had suddenly gained a mind of its own, a bicycle that seemed to think it’d be way more fun to peel out of the group and do a wild chicken dance all the way to the curb.

I left so much blood on that curb that after the ambulance hauled me away, some guy came out with a big bucket of soap and water to clean up the mess.

It felt like a never-ending highside, or a tank slapper, or both. I couldn’t brake, I couldn’t turn, and yet I probably tried to do both. Something somewhere in the middle of turn 6, a fast, downhill right-hander, had destabilized my steed (I’m sure I was ham-fisted at the controls, too) and launched it into its chicken dance of doom. Fortunately I didn’t take anyone else out. That’s always my biggest concern when I’ve crashed. My second biggest concern is what a jackass people must think I am. Stupid girl goes out for her first race, only started riding last year, picks the hardest course, uses unfamiliar wheels and tires, and thinks it will all be fine and dandy. Jackassery. But honestly, why did it have to go wrong? What did I do wrong? Bicycle, y u no have my back?

So I was knocked out for a few seconds, but my memories before and after the incident are relatively clear. I insisted I was just scraped up a little and that my friend could take me to the hospital. I was mortified to have an audience today, this first race day, and that I had taco’d my shit. What a dummy. And I had finally found a team of girls to ride and race with, something I’ve been looking for for a while, and was concerned about what kind of impression I was making on my new teammates.

My left hip was flayed open to the bone. You could also see my iliotibial band, I was told. The ER doc at Sutter Solano hospital in Vallejo stitched me back together, gave me some prescriptions and sent me home. My parents came, my friends were there, and Michelle, my new teammate, was there seeing to it that I was taken care of. I felt so bad that she didn’t continue her race. I’m glad that Elena did.

I got to spend Tuesday night in the hospital because my GP thought my wounds might be infected, so she sent me for an MRI. While waiting for tests, and surgical opinions, I got to have a sleepover at Good Sam, high as a kite from the Dilaudid.

Here are some really graphic photos of my injuries (I won’t even post the “before” photo of my hip, it’s just too disgusting):

Poor Michelle's New Shorts

Road Rash

Yuck...but way better than the before pic

I wish I knew what happened, or how I could prevent it. I don’t believe I was taking that turn any faster or on a different line than any of the other racers. I was afraid of getting dropped, so I made sure I was staying with the group, and I was managing to do just that. I guess I’ll never know. Maybe the biggest thing is that I need to respect the bicycle more than I do. I feel like I DO respect it. I AM careful. I ride within my limits, ALWAYS.

Fortunately no bones were broken, no ligaments or tendons were damaged, and they’re all flesh wounds that will eventually heal. I hope to be back on my bicycle by July. I wish I could say I’ve learned something concrete from all of this. I wish I could say it’ll never happen again. I wish I could say I knew what I did wrong.

And I wish I could say that my ego will eventually heal. It might, but I’ll just have to take it a day at a time.

Posted in Bicycles | 5 Comments

AFM Round 4: Turning Lemons into Mimosas

Posted on June 7, 2011 by Christie

The weekend started out swell. Nikki Nienow and I came up Thursday night to get a full night’s sleep for the Friday track day, hosted by Zoom Zoom Track Days. It was also a women’s VIP day, which meant that I could ride in two sessions; A Group, and Ladies Group.

My first A Group session was at 11 a.m. I got three laps in and then noticed a red flag somewhere, so I stopped, then eventually was shooed back into the paddock.

For the 11:40 session, Nikki and I went out and had some fun showing the girls what they’ll have to look forward to if they keep coming to the track. It made me wish I could wheelie, so I could pass a girl over turn 9 on one wheel. It was fun riding around with Nikki, I tried to see how close she’d let me get to her, then I’d pass her, and we’d take turns.

nikki-me-track

It was really amazing to see what a full group of women there were out on track. Maybe thirty chicks out there being rad. It reminded me of my own first track day, August 2006:

christie-firsttrackday

After a nice lunch for the ladies, I went back out on track and was ready to do some work and start really testing. I wanted to feel out my new motor, contemplate my gearing, fiddle with my suspension and re-acquaint myself with a track I hadn’t ridden in six months. I started having some fun, and then disaster struck. After the slowest part of turn 1, which probably sits somewhere around 80 mph, I started to open the throttle about as much as I ever do, which is not very much, and then had the sensation that I was eight again and me and my bike were on a Slip ‘n’ Slide out in the backyard.

The rear of my bike kicked out to the right, and I was already just inches away from the ground so I hit the deck and went slip ‘n’ sliding off the track. It was really quite an interesting sensation, very smooth and buttery. My ACT suit did its job and when I stopped sliding I got up to find that nothing, and I mean nothing, was hurting. Not bad for such a fast turn.

Unfortunately my little gymnast of a bike did its usual flip and landed on its right side, nose facing me, as it slid off the track. The exhaust was pointed towards the ground and got packed full of chunky dirt. Also unfortunately, two riders were down behind me; one looked to have had his bell rung, and one was a bit of a teammate, Known Fast Guy Chris Siglin. The night before, I was at Fastline Cycles while Alex dynoed my bike, and Chris, who’s fully supported by Fastline, was there too putting the finishing touches on his beautiful BMW S1000RR. He spent probably 45 minutes just cleaning the damn thing, and here he was, crashed out in the dirt.

I felt so horrible. I figured it was my usual boneheaded riding that caused all this chaos and I ran over to both riders to apologize and see if the guy on the ground was okay. I saw him later, walking around in the pits with an ice pack on his elbow, so he was fine. Siglin reassured me that it wasn’t my fault, too, but I still didn’t believe him.

The crash truck towed me, my bike, and the dizzy rider’s bike back into the pits.

crashtruck

When we entered the paddock, Corey Sarros’s little banshee was on her bicycle with training wheels, looking up at me with eyes as big as tennis balls. “This is what happens to little girls who crash,” I told her. Pretty sure this kid’s going to be kicking my ass in about ten years; she was a holy terror on that bicycle, and was once seen even scaling his trailer, climbing up to the top of it, by herself:

sarros-kid

I learned later that I’d had a mechanical. Witnesses mentioned seeing poofs of smoke or fumes pop off as I approached turn 1, and fast kid Joey Pascarella said that I was spraying all sorts of fluid on him. He also said my bike was really fast. Hee.

So some sort of hose thingie had come detached from a radiator pipe and was spraying fluid. The Pirelli track day pro slick I had mounted in the rear didn’t like it very much. I’m not sure a DOT tire would have enjoyed it either. My bike was an absolute mess:

  • severely rashed upper fairing
  • broken right rear set (footpeg etc.) and master cylinder
  • damaged front brake lines
  • bent exhaust system, big hole in the can (my beautiful new Leo Vince Corsa Titanium system! For shame!)
  • bent fork
  • broken right clipon (that’s a handlebar for those non-racing folks), destroyed throttle grip, destroyed brake lever

There might have been some more. Miraculously, my beautiful new helmet didn’t touch the ground. Those Arais are pricey.

Alex and I’ve discussed what might have happened. I know it wasn’t their fault; I saw him tightening everything more than once before, during, and after dyno. This was just one of those somewhat random mechanical problems that don’t always have a source you can really pin down, but we’re replacing parts in the whole system just to help make sure it won’t happen again. Alex and Ray Perez worked double time repairing both my bike and Siggy’s bike, to get both ready for Saturday’s practice. Ross the Rocket Scientist Mechanic and I helped out with some of the work and sourced parts.

Finally, towards dinner time, my bike was ready for morning tech.

I awoke Saturday morning to find rain dumping. And dumping. And dumping. The AFM doesn’t race in the rain. We’re from California; it rarely rains here. But this has been the wettest, stupidest spring I’ve ever experienced, and now two of our race days this season have been rained out.

My friends and I sat in the Lauritzen’s RV waiting for race officials to call the day so we could, well, relax. Unable to sit still anymore, Jason, Greg, Ross and I put on our bicycle gear and went out riding in the wet. Within about a half a lap my pedaling shoes were soaked through. A nice side benefit of that is that they look much cleaner now.

wet-thill2

We came back in to learn that the day had been cancelled, and someone had the bright idea to bring champagne and orange juice to the track, so we drowned our sorrows in a few mimosas, then went to town to get lunch. We all had way more fun than anyone who might race the next day should be having, but we were all pretty convinced that Sunday would be rained out as well. It was a gamble that for some reason I found it appropriate to make. It was such a difficult weekend to take, what with the crashing, the raining, and the usual racetrack mini dramas, that a cocktail or two was just what the doctor ordered.

Sunday morning. Headache. Dry outside. Time to get busy.

We prepped my bike for Sunday racing. Put the bodywork back on, put in some new brake pads. A few finishing touches we didn’t get to in the downpours of Saturday. Then it started raining again. The day was finally called and we packed up and went home. I was glad; I was in bad shape and hadn’t been willing to admit it, even to myself, until the races were finally called in the early afternoon. It sounds like the AFM made the right decision, as well, for even though it was starting to dry up, there were still some rivers on the track and another system was expected to blow through.

Next up, a WERA round at Miller Motorsports Park near Salt Lake City. It’ll be a fun road trip, fun racing, and hopefully great weather!

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