Zones... defined.

Moving back to Colorado and feeling I had a complete wash of an inexistent season, I decided to work with a coach and try this whole structured training thing.

If you're reading this and know me, you probably know that I'm terrible at structure. I am very easily distracted (SQUIRREL!) and in the two years of mountain biking I realize I kind of just have one speed... it's; GO! Any riding with heart rate/power, scheduled and consistent squat parties, and rest days... all very foreign to my, "let's just ride bikes" approach...

I'm not getting any younger, and want to see what a little structure can do. For the past month it's all been written out for me, all I have to do is log on to Training Peaks and follow directions. Easy; right? So far so good thanks to Josiah, a coach who knows me and understands my goals.

Friends have all warned me not to take riding too seriously as I'll burn out or lose the fun in it. So, the stubborn MN Lutheran in me is dedicated on keeping it fun. In the hours and hours I've been spending riding according to "zones"... I've had some time to think about how to keep each zone fun. Other than the obvious answer by keeping most your training outdoors....MUSIC! Playlists are key. Smiling helps too.

I've come up with a fool proof Zone/Genre guide to keeping bicycle practice fun.

Zone 1: This is the "am I even moving" zone. Classical music or a book on tape is a good approach here.... something that won't rev you up and keep you under control. Try Nora Jones or Bon Iver

Zone 2: This is the zone that apparently we have to stay in for the majority of the off season; harder than it sounds. I decided reggae is the best for Zone 2... a good relaxing beat that's a notch up from napping music. Obviously Bob Marley is a Zone 2 choice favorite.

From Zone three on, if you're at a lost you can always resort to Lady Gaga or Shakira... shake it beats.

Zone 3: In this zone I find the best is a plethora of tunes... just keep yourself interested in what you're doing. You're not soft pedaling, and your not dropping the hammer. Hit your pandora 'quick mix' to get a good variety. Exclude anything zone 1 in the mix.

Zone 4: Zone 4 is almost red zone, not quite your "I'm probably going to hit the wall if I stay here much longer"... so I say a good club mix; yes... techno-or anything you could stay out dancing to until 4am. You're not here long, mostly interval work... maybe recover with some Zone 2 in between Zone 4 bouts.

Zone 5: This zone is full on red zone, race pace! I'm not an angry music fan, but I think that the angrier the better in this zone. Something you can really visualize a good airkick to.

So... there you have my take on proper music genre by Zone training. Enjoy! Happy pedaling!

Taking my time. Riding a bike.

In a world consumed with the unsettling feeling of constant ‘corporate’ ladder climbing; I’ve had the pleasure of falling off the route at a young age… a few times. This ‘route’ typically being conjured up by the age of 18-22. At that age our decisions are heavily biased with family, religion, relationships, and society. Most haven’t left the comforts of their hometown, friend circles, or even state. A key factor that’s missing would be ones sense of self. This definition of ‘self’ is still that which has been molded by our upbringing, fitting quite nicely in a confined little box. What I’ve come to terms with is that I don’t really fit into a box, and when the walls start building up around me, I want nothing but to break them down.

This has rung true in a lot of my life, and with my recent jump I’m trying to work on being more mindful of taking my time. Bringing me back to that little word I believe should be in the 4-letter category; patience. Knowing that all my choices I’ve made good or bad, thought out or rash, have all lead me to where I am right now… and that is exactly where I need to be.

What has stood by me through these constant life re-routing is my bike, well a few different bikes… but two wheels nonetheless. Of course, family and friends are always and will always be there; but time on my bike is the one place where I feel like I can think clearly and process the input, criticism, and all else that’s thrown my way with my lofty goals. These goals that may not be completely understood by everyone, but to me they give me a purpose. A purpose that is far from my original plan, but a purpose that will continue to grow and change… with Time. Patience. And a bicycle.

Here it goes...

So, I'm back. Surprise!

Coming back to the happy valley has been more of a process than I thought it would be. Of course I'm happy to now be around family, friends, and the fresh mountain air. There just seems to be this looming feeling of, "What the hell just happened?!?" as a mere six months ago I thought I was moving away for my dream job. Bright eyed and with a bubble view of what the future would hold. I had sold everything that didn't fit in my little Jeep Liberty and made my way further west to a little gem called The Bay Area; a true leap of faith.

This leap proposed many new challenges that I wasn't accustomed to. The job details aside, I was finding myself adjusting to "city life". I consider myself pretty independent and adventurous, but it actually took me quite sometime to venture into the city to dip my toes in San Fran culture, art, variety, amazing food, etc. All of this was very foreign to a Minnesota born "farm girl" turn Colorado "mountain girl"... and now?!?! San Fran "city girl!?!?".... I found myself constantly at a state of stress trying to find my way around, seeking out genuine relationships, keeping and sharing a positive outlook at work, and maintaining some sort of fitness and fun balance on my bike. The fact of the matter is, I couldn't keep it all together.

Most assured me I had to give a transition like that at least a year; well I hit the halfway mark and just couldn't do it anymore. I had woken up far too many foggy mornings without the lustrous passion to ride. I wasn't happy; things needed to change.

As my days left in The Bay became fewer and fewer I started to see the positive effect I had. Funny how when you're so concerned about the things you're not doing, you lose sight of the positive shifts and affects you are creating in the "now". Good moment to remind yourself, "Do

not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." Buddha.

The fact of the matter is The Bay Area is an amazing place, filled with spectacular people, phenomenal riding, and opportunities that a mountain town unfortunately could never foster. The magnitude of adventure isn't quite the same as being in the center of multiple 14k peaks, but really nowhere is... so it's not worth the comparison.

I am grateful for the bonds that were created in the past six months, and happy to know those relationships and experiences will keep me motivated and moving forward. The women's cycling industry is something that's just beginning to grow and my passion to promote and foster other women's love for two wheels will never be lost... In some way, I'll always be involved.

So...sometimes things don't work out exactly the way we plan them... but we always have the choice to make changes... and when we leave a place, we can always go back.

KJ

LT100

This past Saturday's attempt in racing the LT100 resulted in more of a long, painful, grueling slogging tour of Leadville. Sounds fun, right? Well, those are just a few of the feelings I went through and although the day is foggy and bits and pieces are falling through the cracks; I'll try to recap...

So, first of all how did I get myself into this? Well, a few weeks ago I thought it would be a great idea to do a Leadville Qualifying race in Tahoe. Since moving away, I've been a bit homesick and thought the best of both worlds would be to race and visit the friendly faces of home. I pulled off a decent time and placed in Tahoe to get me a spot in Leadville, so blindly I took it. Little did I know that although a 100k race took little training and commitment, a 100 mile race above 10,000ft would take much more to perform at what I feel my ability would be. A painful lesson I'll never forget.

The days leading up to the race I didn't really feel 100%. I have acquired this new feeling called "stress"; that tightness in the chest, never fully rested feeling that seems to infest your day to day once you live in a busy area. When it came to race day, I knew I wasn't where I needed to be physically to do my best but my stubborn nature still convinced myself this was going to be great and I was feeling fresh as a daisy.

The gun went off to start this 100 mile tour of Leadville, and the day in the saddle began. It was a relatively fast pace but being in a big pack I was able to suck some wheels to the dirt of the first climb up St. Kevins. Normally I love climbing. Typically feeling fast and light up steep terrain, but on this day I was feeling more like I was inching a downhill bike up Vail Pass while breathing through a straw. This is where I kept telling myself to smile, it hurts less when you smile. Bummer this technique wasn't quite working.

photo credit: Linda Guerrette

After the second climb, I kept looking forward to descending Powerline knowing it was a bit of a relief. Little did I know that falling back in the pack would prevent any kind of "letting go" or fun on the descent. So, there started the first of many "factory line" scenes of the day. Hitting the bottom of the descent and rolling on I tried to keep telling myself I'd start to feel better, I'd catch my breath, and my legs would wake up. Rolling along, I came to the first familiar face and sign of salvage; Colorado friend, athlete, and general great support Rachel. I'm not sure what overcame me, but as I stopped and shed my vest gave her a hug, I couldn't catch my breathing and started hyperventilating; a repeat of what had already happened a couple times prior to seeing Rach. Gasping for words I asked how far the next aid station was where our other friend Amy and her family were waiting. I didn't think I could make it. Thoughts of quitting #1. Rachel wouldn't listen to my whimpering and pushed me back on my bike. True friend.

More pedaling and more hurting... my concept of time or anything fun during the two stations are inexistent. Rolling through Twin Lakes gave me a touch of energy as crowds of support lined each side of the road. With blurs of cheers on either side, trying to smile, and have some fun I pedaled through knowing Amy and family were past all the crowds closer to the climb of Columbine. Seeing the familiar faces, I got off my bike and immediately said, "I'm done"..."this isn't fun"... and the tears rolled. "There's no crying in baseball" ?!?! Quitting attempt#2. Little did I know, Amy wouldn't take pity on my weakness, and wouldn't have any of my rantings. Another true friend. I went back to my bike with my tail between my legs and told myself, "just go to the top and enjoy the view, you can quit after that". I rolled on.

[Amy Owens is a good friend of mine from Colorado and general badass. She's completed LT100 two years in a row now on a single speed. Yes, one gear. She's been a great support through this last minute decision on doing the race with her detailed emails on what to expect. Everyone in the Vail community knows her as both mentally and physically strong, which has been tested with health complications resulting in recent brain surgery, and preventing her from competing this year. Her attitude towards it all is a tremendous inspiration. The hardest part about wanting to quit was and still is having shown weakness around someone so strong.]

The climb up Columbine was demoralizing, and a great time to start the day of cramping. Both adductors were on a time clock of cramping every 20 minutes, I'd attempt to pedal through, then have to get off my bike and try trigger points to get my muscles to stop jumping around. As I'd attempt to pedal through it, this is where not one but two men at different parts of the climb passed me and said, "Aren't you the girl from Tahoe, aren't you suppose to be fast?!?". Thanks guys. After a far too long stretch of "factory line" Columbine hiking that I had just ridden a few days prior...and I was finally at the top. As I sat there with a view of the rest of the course, I thought to myself, I'm done... this is stupid; not healthy, what am I doing? Quit attempt#3. With a quick descent back to Amy and her family, I was hyperventilating again and everything hurt. Attempt#4. This is where my thoughts went from "this is stupid" to "this is horrible". With Amy, Rachel, and Jon's coaching and trickery I was convinced to "spin" to Pipeline. Amy's words, "It's all downhill to the next stop".... lies.

I don't remember much of the next stretch, and as I came to my friends again I put my bike down and said, "you can't trick me this time, I'm really done". Attempt #5. I curled up into a ball as my muscles were all locked up and apparently it was really hot as all I asked for was ice. This is truly the worse I've ever felt on my bike; dizzy, sick, cramping not to

mention emotionally a wreck. "Hot mess express" and "that girl" could be used to describe my state. Once again, I was tricked by my friends. This time it was Amy's soon to be 7 year old who fooled me into getting back on my bike with this statement.

"Karen... when I'm at a really long day at soccer camp... and... I'm really

tired... and want to go home... I don't quit."

I had to go on. Well, I went on with the promise from Jon that if I were still feeling so terrible a half mile down the road that they'd be right behind me to pick me up. So, I rolled a half mile down the road with continuous cramps. Got off my bike... and shamefully laid on the side of the road, cramping, and waiting. Attempt#6. They never came. Tricked again.

Back on the bike, and the pain actually let up a little. Knowing I was stuck to finish, my perspective started to switch. I got closer to the Powerline climb and knowing people would be there, I couldn't be such a wimp anymore. That's when I took a PBR handoff from the shirtless drunk guy running alongside the trail, my smile was back, and climbed the lower portion of Powerline passing the "factory line" of hikers. I vaguely remember one man saying, "I thought you were dead on the side of the road... now you're riding this!?!?". The power of PBR and a smile I suppose?

Fast Forward to not much descending, more cramping, and two more attempts at quitting, and I could see the finish line! Delirious, dehydrated, and just disappointed in myself I happily handed my bike away and went straight to my friends. I finished in 10:59, and hour before the cut off. Medal, belt buckle, cold beer, and great company... my smile was back; but was still cursing the race.

This has been my first disappointing performance and has taken me a few days to process it all. First lesson is that this is not the kind of race to just jump into. I'm far too new to racing to not race all summer and decide to do the LT100 3 weeks before race day. The next, is an obvious one and one any endurance athlete knows. EAT! 400 calories is not enough for 100 miles above 10,000 ft... if you're not hungry, you have no option but to force food. Proper nutrition in a race like this is crucial. Another lesson is a great point brought up to me by Josiah Middaugh a top national XTERRA athlete and friend. "Take away what you can. You don't learn anything from winning." This phrase along with encouraging words from many good friends in Colorado made me really think and process not only the race, but everything each painful pedal stroke brought up throughout the day.

I'm still processing it all... but the most important part of the week being back to Colorado made me realize how fortunate I am to have such a supportive family, group of friends, and community believing in me. I can't be so rough on myself and have to look back and just be happy with finishing, regardless of how long it took me. I also need to let go of other people's expectations, opinions, and comments; I don't race for these reasons so why should I let it get to me so much? HTFU

So, there you have it. I'm sorry it's not all stars and stripes, butterflies and rainbows... but that was my day and its in the books. Thank you to the amazing friends and family who were there to help me through it.

Reality of a small town girl

Today marks two months of living in California and it's taken that amount of time for the harsh reality to hit that not everything is going to be rainbows and butterflies; which is usually the bubble that I try to live in. It's quite nice, but a few days ago painted quite the scene as I was sitting on the side of railroad grade gasping for air and crying like a little girl with a skinned knee. This is when the realization hit that sometimes your bubble will burst.

Every person I meet asks me how I'm liking it here, what do I miss about Colorado, how do the places compare. I try so hard not to rant on and on about how great my life was in Vail. How I'd get up, go to yoga, make a stop at the Bookworm for a chai, do some work to barely pay my bills, get in a ride, cook dinner with friends and always run into familiar happy faces along the way. In all honestly, it's been like pulling teeth to get any similar kind of momentum going here. My feelings make me think about the people I'd come across in Vail who would go on about missing their shopping malls, fancy restaurants, fashion, culture, etc. Those are the conversations where my mind would wander to, "what adventure can I conjure up next?" and easily drift towards an assumption of their disrespect for the outdoors.

So here it is. I'm taking a moment to babble because I suppose that's healthy?

What are the differences. Well, for one there's like a million bajillion (yes that's a number) people all around. Granted, I'm in Marin which is much less condensed than San Francisco but, to me it's still packed. It's packed with people always in a hurry, and most of the time I'm not even sure they know what they're busy doing? Go go go...where are you going? This area is also filled with very successful people. The book definition of success. Money money money. Kind of like Vail money that come out to vacation in our high seasons. The ones that have worked for the man until they became the man and can start to live their lives at 45. That choice is fine...for them, but based on how I beat myself up now my body might not be able to handle this kind of activity when I'm 45 so I best keep it going when I'm young. :)

Another major difference is the definition of "the outdoors". I'll give it to the area, that for an urban setting the Bay Area/San Francisco really offers a LOT. A true outdoor experience; not so much, but it's close. Where it's close are all the illegal mountain bike trails. These trails are amazing, fun, challenging; the true birth of mountain biking. Having these trails illegal, leaves fire road and wider than village to village "single track"... or driving for a short loop of pretty fun singletrack built by boyscouts or state parks. Regardless, you're still in your car through traffic for at least 20-30 minutes before touching a good trail. Then there's always the three hour trek to Tahoe. This has made me miss having Berry Creek in my backyard. Yes, Vail people... NEVER take Berry Creek for granted, especially with the Surprise Valley extension. It's in YOUR BACKYARD, and DRY most of the year.

What else? The air. I really miss dry air. I miss the way my lungs burn on rides. Or the "race lung"... Now, it's my legs that are on fire. Which is every ride because no matter what you're going to have some sort of super steep climb to hammer yourself up.

Then there's the obvious; friends and family. I have to admit I'm very lucky to have met the people I have, but as I referenced before... everyone is busy. Busy busy busy... and they either live across a bridge or through a traffic jam. Which tends to end in solo bike rides, dinners, etc.

All in all... I never thought I'd be the one thinking people around me need to slow down. When in Vail I was on "go" mode from the moment I hopped out of bed until I came back to crash my head on the pillow. I'd like to think that even though I was always on the move, I still maintained a good sense of community; if someone needed me I feel like I was always there for them.

I'll find that all here too... it's just going to take time. We all need to complain a bit here and there, right? Now that I'm done with that....

Now for what I've gained. Opportunity. This is something that I was fighting for in Vail and it just wasn't happening. That's what's going to keep me here. I have a great job, and even if it's caused a bit of a "pause" button on racing; it'll be worth it. It may cause some upcoming races to be a little extra painful as I'm not necessarily feeling the most fit right now, but I'm sure there will be a lesson in that as it comes. Creating, growing, and supporting a women's cycling community is such a great opportunity. I try to never lose sight of that when days get a little lonely.

So, there it is... my bubble burst, I've complained, and now I'm done. Hope this wasn't too depressing of a post. Now, get out and enjoy your day!

Bonked at Boggs..

This past weekend I raced in my very first California cross country mtb race, and it was a "he loves me, heloves me not" relationship off the bat.

Knowing I had the weekend off of work, I set out to find something to preoccupy my free time. Realizing my riding has been lacking any real high end pushing, I figured doing a cross country race should

be in order. My procrastination took the best of me and I didn't decide on a race until the night before. Not only did my procrastination take over, but my lack of being prepared or reading the fine print. Luckily, good friend Eric Hill was setting out to do the same race. Thanks to he and his girlfriend Sarah, transportation, water bottle hand off, and great company were all taken care of.

An early morning wake up call after a quasi night's sleep on Eric's pull out couch, which actually felt pretty plush compared to the vast array of sleeping quarters I've had since moving. See below for the best example.

Off to the races we went! All that was on my mind was not forgetting my bike shoes, helmet, and SV jersey. Unfortunately, I don't fill out my jersey like it looks in the link, but I have to say this has been the most comfortable jersey I have ever worn. Capo has the woman's fit figured out! My biggest complaint with tops is how most creep up your waist throughout a ride or race. The last thing you want to think about is pulling down your jersey, and with a looser fit at the waist, this jersey doesn't creep up or give you that elastic band "muffin top" feel. You know what I'm talking about.

Race time, and my body was feeling terrible and I hadn't even made a pedal stroke. Ignoring the lead in my legs and not having my pro license yet, I registered in the pro category. I tend to enjoy jumping in the deep end of any situation and hoping to figure out how to swim through it. Still not knowing all the details of the race, I set out to warm up on the course the same way I would in the Vail Rec District Mountain Bike Series. These races are a bit shorter and typically start with a monster climb that you need to be warmed up for. Little did I know that here at Boggs the race organizer starts us out with a 2 mile road climb followed by a rolling 3 mile single track before even starting the timing of the race! Lesson #1, I probably didn't need the 30 minutes of fire roads before the race. Check.

Line up time. I love this part of any race. It was a mass start, so I wasn't sure who I was racing against but enjoyed checking out the scene, bikes, and people's nerves. Seeing other people nervously chat has a way of settling my own inner chatter. We were off! Here is where KJ learned Lesson #2. When racing you should really have a sense for how long the race is and "pace" accordingly. I went out hot, silly. The 5 mile start wasn't even a part of the race. There was no point of riding up with the fast boys on the climb. Silly. My lead legs continued to feel heavier and heaver and I hadn't even technically started the race yet!?! Smart, KJ.

That was the tone for the three hours I ended up being on my bike. I kept wondering when I would start to settle into a pace or when my body would just start enjoying the race. It wasn't until mid second lap when I heard a female voice behind me. She rode my wheel for a good portion of lap 2 winding through some of the best single track I've ridden in California yet! Forgetting about the sharp turn off the single track up a steep grade road and cakdjcakjdcakdjcekja... there goes my chain.... and there goes first place. Quickly, I tried to shift through the chain suck but got off and fixed it instead. Cursing my bike and my small wheels, I wanted to send Gary out to pasture that very moment! I then saw her pull away, I had no drive to push through the frustration of the second mechanical of the race and the beginning of my cramping that nagged along with me for the remainder of the day. This is where I rode. I was no longer racing and I was officially fighting with my body. As I rode along, feeling crummy and trying to enjoy the trails I heard someone cheering my name up in the distance. I thought to myself, "who knows me here?!?!"..."Is it a surprise from a Colorado friend who absolutely had ENOUGH with all the snow they're still having?".... Nope, it was Julie a new friend and little spit fire who's been coming to my group rides! She looked sharp in her Capo Bacio Short Sleeved Jersey and matching Capo Bacio Shorts. Julie is just getting comfortable with mountain biking and absolutely loving it. Here's a shot of her enjoying some of the race course that day. Thanks Julie! You made the pain subside and kept me motivated to keep pedaling.

Seeing Julie out there changed my perspective for the rest of the race. Yes, I was still cramping and proceeded to drop my chain one more time, but it reminded me why I love mountain biking, and more importantly why I moved to California. Julie is a great example of an amazing woman who really wants to get into mountain biking. She

has the heart, athletic ability, and focus but just needs a little instruction and company for getting started. I saw a bit of myself in her during group rides as she'd go back and ride and re ride sections until she got it. In a way I feel like I'm giving back what Kerry

White, Gretchen Reeves, Lisa Isom to list a few of the amazing women who've helped and continue to help me along my way. If you ask me, that's worth much more than first place.

So, as I inched my way across the finish line for second place, I reviewed the lessons of actual race tactics I learned that day as well as reminded myself why I race.

Some days you have it, others you don't. When the day comes to an end you're just riding a bike, so have fun and remember to share the fun with others!

Went home with a little cash, a cool medal, some electrolyte mix that Eric and I's verdict is still out on the better flavor of HEED. Strawberry? or Lemon Lime? Great job as he crushed his singlespeed field! Pain and race "mistakes" aside, it was a great time with some amazing people and fun new trails!

What's 6 more hours?

This is the phrase that convinced me to sign up for 18 hours of Fruita solo. I mean, what could be THAT much different from a 12 hour race to an 18 hour race?!?! Well, this past weekend's 18 Hours of Fruita gave me a slap in the face of all the differences.

So, there I was sitting on my indoor trainer on one of the coldest days in Edwards, CO registering for my first 18 hour endurance race. It was our record snowfall season and all I wanted to do was ride my bike. Maybe I registered as an excuse to give friends when I never wanted to take a lift to go skiing. "Well, I need to keep my fitness up"... in reality, I was just over the winter. All I wanted to do was roll on two wheels and push my lungs; which is just what I did. Throughout the winter I sought out every chance and opportunity to stay on my bike outside; Salida, Fruita, Front Range, and even local snow packed trails... I wasn't letting go. These feelings of endless winter motivated my decision to take a job in California.

I took a new job and moved out of the valley quite quickly right before the end of the season. I needed opportunity and new adventure, and none of that was happening in Vail. Ideally, I was wanting to start the job after the race allowing me to train where I felt comfortable and spend plenty of time saying goodbye to the valley I still refer to as home, not to mention the great friends and family who I hold dear. It was tough leaving, and still is. However, leaving so soon and spending two weeks in California before the race was probably the best thing for me. Regardless of the stresses of a new place, new job, different people/lifestyle, etc. I was kind of forced to rest. My riding was kept mellow, partially because I had no idea where I was going. I was spending a lot of time focussing on work, and I was sleeping & eating A LOT. Forced recovery you could say. Something I am absolutely terrible at doing. Needless to say, I felt ready. Having the excitement of seeing great friends and riding my bike in one of my favorite places was all that was on my mind. No thoughts and stress of the race really ever crossed my mind.

Fast forward to race day. I'm very fortunate to have many friends who are much more experienced than I am in mountain bike racing, so I exhausted my resources as to what I should do the day of the race that starts at 12 midnight and ends at 6pm the following day. So, I did

just as Honey Stinger pro endurance racer Kris Cannon said I should. My friends and I prepared everything throughout the day and from 4-11 I did absolutely NOTHING. Slept, ate, laid around. It was harder than it sounds having not seen my friends in awhile and really not knowing when I'll get to see them again. One of my wisest friends Heather Russell was great at yelling at me to go back to the tent and go to bed. Thank you HR!

Wake up call from Ben scratching the tent walls, and I was up like a kid on Christmas morning! I probably got dressed in under 5 minutes and was overly excited to race my bike at night for the first time! Friend, bike mechanic, and overall stud Frank Devlin made sure I ate something sustainable and had a shot of coffee before lining up for the start.

Looking back, the night was kind of a blur. I had plans of keeping my laps between 45-50 minutes all day, but I was feeling stronger than that pace. However smart it was, I quickly threw that out the window and just went for it; keeping my laps between 35-40 minutes. I could hear friend and endurance racer Kerry White's voice in my head saying, "you should slow it down Karen"... and like an adolescent to her mother, I ignored the voice. I was rolling and kept coming across familiar faces and kits I would chat with for awhile, think maybe I should slow my pace to ride with them, then decide to push on. Each lap I came through I was overwhelmed with an amazing crew cleaning my chain, clearing my glasses of dust and fog, shoving food in my face, switching out water bottles, and slapping my spandex to get rolling again. Frank, Heather, Ben, Berly, Corrie, Alex, Tyrone, and Dogger... you're all amazing.

Suns up. This was one of the most memorable parts of the race. As the sun rose, everything changed. The trail seemed to take on new turns and obstacles, and my energy took on a new surge. Not to mention the obvious realization just how dusty I was from the whe

el to wheel tearing of dry singletrack.

Lap after lap after lap, I was loving it... keeping my pace strong and enjoying the company and encouragement of many Vail Valley racers on and off the trail. I felt tremendous support, and owe so much of the days accomplishments to so many amazing people.

It wasn't until nearing 12 noon that I was realizing what the difference 6 hours really makes. That's when it hit me. By this time I was beginning to feel tired, my stomach wasn't wanting food or water, and the sun started to beat me down. It was then that I started inquiring on and standings. At that point I was an hour and a lap in first place. Shocked, this gave me a surge of energy. Knowing this and having some of the best friends keeping me smiling by dressing up in costumes and force feeding me. I kept pedaling.

The afternoon went on and the sun began to make me wilt. Heat and I don't get along that well, and the desert scorched me. Dizzy, hot, and in pain I wanted to quit. I questioned why I

was doing this, and convinced myself I couldn't do it anymore. That it wasn't healthy. This is where Heather's words got me going again. A simple, "Karen, why don't you just spin a lap"... I got up and rolled on. This is where the results started to skew. I was now in second place, 5 minutes behind 1st. The competitive edge in me fired. I was not going to come this far and fall back place by place... as I saw 2nd and 3rd not that far behind me. I began to no longer listen to my music and instead focus on my mind staying strong when my body was feeling weak. "Stay steady and just keep pedaling, Karen"..."Shut up legs, you love it"..."The other girls are feeling the same way". This is where, with company of Heather I rolled out another lap. After that lap I was surged again, and kept going for another... and then Frank joined me on another!

Coming in at 5:25, I knew I was done. Studying the times, I was two laps ahead of Christina Begy and one behind of Annie Fox. Even if I could've mustered up a 35 minute lap at that point I'd have come in after Annie's recorded 25th lap. I was done. Happy with how I rode, I was in a fog of the results. When did I get passed? Where did that hour lead go? At that point I was too exhausted to contest, but a couple friends proceeded to check where things went wrong. They went up and inquired and came back even more confused. Did I do 24 or 25 laps? Did they miss one of my laps? Questions that will never be answered, but regardless I was very happy with how I raced.

Being only my second year trying to forge into the racing world, I couldn't have been happier with how I did. Not to mention the overwhelming amount of support I felt from friends supporting, racing, or just spectating. That in itself was worth the 18 hours of saddle fun.

Many people question the sanity of people who choose to enter into the world of ultra endurance racing. Yes, those of us who enjoy events such as this are probably missing a few screws, but I think it's the challenge that brings me back. Not to mention sharing 18 hours with friends new and old... as well as seeing how far the mind can push the body. We'll see what's next!

A new chapter...

Everyone can recall their senior seminar class preparing young scholars for the real world application of their education. This is where we learn the important interview to do's and not to do's. Come dressed appropriately, prepare proofread and double proofread your resume and cover letter, never wear strong perfume or cologne, never chew gum, always engage eye contact, ask the appropriate questions, and of course take notes! Since learning the basics I've been through a gamut of interviews where all of these tips helped me feel prepared and confident before sitting in the hot seat. Flash forward to the past couple days interviewing with the crew at Studio Velo, and the process has opened my eyes to a whole new world of interview preparation.

As I sat in my Colorado mountain town bedroom, packing for this interview I donned the business suit for my race kit and began to find my list of questions taking a fast shift towards pure quality of life. Pedals-check, spandex-check, passion for opportunity-double check. Here we go!

From the first email contact with shop owner Scott Penzarella, I could immediately sense his passion for what his company offers. This passion and pure sincerity has resonated through each employee, friend, or family member I've met since being here for the past two days. Co-owner Chris Reed picked me up from my shuttle in his truck, with his Ellsworth ready to roll in the back. He brought me back to the shop where I met Jeanie, the right hand woman of Studio Velo and huge aspect of the women's side. Chris and I hit up a great little lunch spot to talk more about the company and the position. Back to the shop where we met up with Scott, who had just gotten back from a powder slaying session at Tahoe. Time to ride!

Now, I love riding. Absolutely 110% pure love for anything involving a bicycle. We set out, get to chatting and I'm told approximately how long we'll ride and that this will be part of my interview. Flash forward three hours, over 4,000 feet of climbing, mud, blood, swet, and a smile from ear to ear. I think I passed the riding test? Mill Valley most definitely proved to be the birth of mountain biking with its great climbs, swooping singletrack, and breathtaking views. I had to remind myself throughout the ride that this was really part of my interview, but found that fact easily slipping my mind as I was completely in my element. Not to mention an acquired case of ADD when it comes to new trails, great company, ocean view in one direction and lush green land in the other. Someone pinch me!

This tone was carried into the next day. I woke up in the beautiful home of Scott and his wife Rachel to Scott's brother Chris preparing coffee and Scott asking me if I want toast or a tortilla with my eggs. My body was a little tired as it's March, and where I live most people's bikes are still hibernating. After some great breakfast and some light stretching, we set out to the shop where I spent a couple hours with Jeanie going over her typical day on the women's side. The clouds started to roll in, a little bit of precipitation began to spit on and off, and here we are putting on our interview spandex again to head out for a road ride. This is where reality set in what a nice road bike feels like. Unlike my "roadbike" at home, I could feel the pure efficiency of the beautiful craftsmanship with each pedal stroke on the Ridley I was allowed to take out that afternoon. It's an amazing tool for training, and what I'm finding a complete necessity in that area. Another over 4,000 feet of climbing coupled with wind, rain, chilly temps resulting in the inability to feel my toes; I fell in love with the road riding in the area. Could someone pinch me again?

Scott and I spent a good portion climbing up Mt. Tam talking details of his expectations and where this position has potential to go. Since that conversation, my mind hasn't turned off. Scott runs a business that has something unique that most businesses lack. That's passion. Passion for what he provides, but also who he employs. The staff of Studio Velo are a great example of "work hard to play hard". Scott wouldn't be offering me a "job", but more a way of life. He'd be giving me the opportunity to incorporate my academic history, work ethic, passion for cycling and community, as well as a future in mountain bike racing, all wrapped up into a career. It's like a happy burrito of my hobbies and my education. I feel as though that's what most people strive for, but little find.

Looking back on the past couple days, I've had to sit back and take it all in. Calm my heart not only from the great riding, but the opportunity that lies ahead. Nothing is for certain, but one thing I do know is that I will never forget this interview process. Thank you to everyone at Studio Velo for taking me in and making me feel so welcome and at home. Ride on