meet junior shaina maytum! send shaina email.

"retro chick"

date of birth 2/28/87

place of birth Boulder, CO

current residence I'm a Boulderite, born and raised

started biking? I have always had a bike, but I didn't really start riding seriously until last year

fave food peanut butter and jelly! also fig newtons, fruit, cake tea- Celestial Seasonings decaf teahouse chai (formerly known as mountain chai)

fave music i like variety and therefore have enough mix tapes (yes, tapes) to more than fill a shoebox. my favorite pre-race music right now is eve 6

hobbies playing outside, volunteering at Rocky Mountain Riding Therapy (horses, not bikes), theatre. my friend rachie has been trying to teach me to knit (unsuccesfully), and i really would like to start a kickball club...

dislikes homework, mean people, the dentist

pets?/fave animal? I have two frogs, but am more partial to ducks, seals and horses

favorite place to ride anywhere it is very beautiful and i can use my big ring a lot

best moment in cycling dawn over moab after 17 hours of racing, always

worst moment in cycling losing my front teeth after a collision with a parked car

most admired cyclist the (49 year old) man who won the solo division in Moab.Damn.

other sports the outdoorsy-type activities. no "team sports"

fave books An American Childhood (Annie Dillard), Down the River (Edward Abbey), The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje), The Happy Hocky Family (and The Happy Hocky Family Moves to the Country, both by Lane Smith)

future college Hobart and William Smith Colleges (Geneva, NY)

aspirations If I had a business card, I would want it to read "Shaina Maytum, adventuress." But I love to write and aspire to working for National Geographic and then making some really cool documentaries

words of inspiration there is actually not enough room to print it here, so go find a copy of An American Childhood (see "favorite books"), start reading on page 106 and finish the chapter :)

shaina rockin' at the 2003 Colorado USCF State 'Cross Championships!

December 6
Monday
Sometimes college makes me feel like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole. However. Yesterday was the innagural ride of the newly-formed cycling team/club, and although it was at 10 on a Sunday morning and the weather was freezing, eight people showed up. Eight! We rode. Together. Pedalling through farmland and past angry dogs and into snowy headwinds; just talking and laughing and riding. I caught one of my riding companions looking at me when we hit this straightaway; he caught me grinning the big grin of sheer joy. Today I rode my trainer in the hallway of my dorm (I'm not sure this is the way to make friends and influence people, but whatever). I faced it to a window so I could watch people coming in and out of the building and doing various things in the parking lot. It was windy outside. I had my front wheel propped up with my Webster's Unabridged Dictionary. I thought a lot about school, and about coming home. Sqaure peg. But we're riding again this weekend, permitting we don't have some sort of a blizzard. Square hole?

September 2 In my new town of Geneva there is one bike shop, one mountain bike trail, and no bike lanes. Many people don't know bicycle racing exists (one guy said he'd heard of a race in France, maybe?) and respond with a combination of awe and confusion when I tell them that where I come from (yes, it is a REALLY long way from here), that is what we do for fun and also that we ride bikes for transportation purposes. My first week here hasn't been easy. But tonight I took the ol' Club Fuji out for a spin and discovered that it is beautiful here. Not beautiful like Colorado is, but in a dense-green-rolling hills- hazy sunsets-over fields of corn sort of a way. There's not a lot out in this part of the world,but what there is is old and feels very peacful. And everywhere I go is somewhere I have never been before! It occured to me that although I very much miss home and seeing cyclists every 15 feet, I am OK because I have my bicycles here too. I can think of no better way to begin to relate to a new place- a bicycle is a wonderful way to see new country and a place where I am inherently happy and comfortable, this is important when everything else is strange still. But then riding home (home?) I passed two guys on road bikes, out of habit smiled and waved, kept going. But then instead I slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the saddle to chase them down. We rode back together and chatted, it turned out they'd heard of me ("Are you the girl from Colorado?") and exchanged living locations. So I finally found that community I've been longing to start to build and for the first time I really felt like I might be fine here. Also, I remembered the chocolate cupcake that I stole from the dining hall. "...all journeys may be the same, and we arrive exactly where we are." -John Haines

24.uag.04

August 22 On Tipperary Creek and saying goodbye I

re-read my journal for this same race last night, and how it was so great because of how far I had come as a racer. Today's race was really great too, but since I haven't really been riding particularly quickly or competitively this year, it was much more a celebration of what this whole experience has meant to me and how far I have come as a person. Not that there weren't some exciting race moments, like my being at the bottom of a five-girl pile-up that happened 30 seconds off the start, but my thoughts were overwhelmingly tilted in the direction of "last race." (Everything I do these days has that feeling of "last-" it is all at once sad and terrifying and super exciting.) I mean, not really, but I leave for New York on Wednesday and there was a definite sense of finality as I pedalled through the woods in the lovely, lovely Colorado mountains. It's been a long and utterly life-changing journey getting here, the end of two years of bike racing and the start of who knows what... And then it was time to go home and this brings us to the topic of goodbyes. "What," I said rather sadly, "if I don't come home next summer?" "Then we'll just have to come out to the east coast and find you." You're my boys and I'm going to miss you terribly. Tonya and Troy- you are amazing people. Thank you so much for everything!

Outward Bound

Three weeks ago I returned home after a 22-day Outward Bound course. I spent those weeks exploring the South San Juan mountains with my 9 patrolmates and 2 instructors and really, there are not the words to describe what it is like "out there" or what I am like now that I am back here. I wrote about 50 pages in my journal, but no one wants to read all of that, so this is a shorter something I wrote while on my solo that I feel fairly effectively captures the spirit of the whole thing: "The sun is setting on my second day of solo. That's right, the sun. I even ventured outside my freezer to watch the light in the trees... I am so full of this experience that I can hardly stand it. Thoughts and emotions are flowing faster than I can process them, much less write them down (especially because my hands have been really cold all day and are moving kind of slow). I have never before felt my world to be so perfect- it's that purity thing again. They're right when they say you have no idea how Outward Bound is going to touch your life. I must admit I did not expect it to be like this. I like how simultaneously very little and very much matters out here ("out here"- that's always how it's referred to). I only know what day of the week it is because today is day 14 and I know we left on a Sunday (note: I did NOT in fact know what day it was, and was so confused that I became convinced my watch was wrong and changed the date). Time of day only sort of matters and nothing about looks or poularity or money matters. It's little things, like hot drinks and fruit bars and disatnce to cover in a day. How long 'til resupply and what to do when your tarp collapses. Then it's the really big stuff, like love and unity, strength and beauty, peace and awareness. And even when contemplating the big wide wilderness you still have to go and make sure that mouse isn't getting busy with your sleeping bag. I cannot fathom not wanting an experience like this." www.outwardboundwest.org They give scholarships! I got the entire tuition of my course paid by through a Gates Leadership scholarship- thank you and thank you again!

July 4 "Cross Country Super Loop" Today I was happy. By 11:30 this morning, a time at which many people would just be waking up, we had already driven to Winter Park and finished a mountain bike race. It was a good one; I am finally feeling strong again. I could hardly believe it- I passed people on climbs! They'd get off to walk and I would just keep riding. It is rather aggravating, however to work ridiculously hard to pass people going up only to be caught again going back down. But for the first time in my life I wished I had one more climb. I experienced those moments of pure exultation: I grinned wildly flying through turns and through trees and even pushing up and up. I came home and slept fitfully, that awful sleep that comes with through-and-through exhaustion. Too hot, wracked with pain and dehydration, my right shin throbbing where a rock flew up and hit me. But even this was good, because feeling this way resulted from pushing myself incredibly hard and having it pay off.

June 25 Crested Butte, Day 1 It is night now, and I am alone in my tent with a steady stream of rain hitting the top and the chatter of our many neighbors outside. Anyway, the day began with a not terribly lengthy or eventful drive with the Carlsons, five cross country bikes, and some extra gear. We did however, have the pleasure of driving the incorrect direction through a large herd of cattle: mamas and babies heading upstream. We rolled down the windows and Sam mooed a lot. Note: this trip is different from some others because I am the lone mtbchick, really the only chick at all. The cast this time around includes the Carlsons, David Femmer, three downhillers around the age of 13 (Joey, Cody, Cassidy), and our faithful leader Andrew Hawkes. The day's events continued with a brief reunion with a terrific camp friend, Leaf/Kristen, lunch, and a bike ride: It all started (it did not in fact all start here, it in fact nearly ended, but that would be a lame way to start a story) when Hawkes said, "I thought we could ride back through 'Oh-Be-Joyful (campground).'" The trail ended and the thunderstorm started approximately 20 feet later. To make a long story short, we all ended up really muddy and I was huddled in a bush with the downhillers, seeking respite from the hail and cleaning blood from Joey's lip. Eh, I decided, These kids are OK. Then it was dinner (pasta), then we cleaned up and Sam and I plotted to steal the tandem mountain bike from our neighbors for racing excitement the following day. But now it was time for bed; to sleep, perchance to dream, in my case restlessly, while images of downpours danced in my head. Day 2 Race Day We woke up to one of the most beautiful mornings I have seen; I was so happy that it wasn't raining that I did a little dance when I crawled out of my tent. The whole valley was misty and covered with stray low-hanging clouds, and everything east was just beginning to become pink. It was lovely, if incredibly cold, and we stood silent in the road for awhile until it was time to begin breakfast, often one of the hardest parts of the day (who wants to eat two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before dawn?). I then read an inspirational quote which received some blanks stares and one or two giggles, so I returned to choking down food and trying to stay warm. The word of the day this time is: long. I am talking three hours, 34 minutes long. It is days like today that make me question what I think I'm doing. Over dinner last night we discussed the metaphysical and spiritual nature of bike racing. Oftentimes one wonders, "Why am I here?" or focuses on more prayer-centered thoughts: "Good Lord, let me die." I felt slow, I rode poorly, my back hurt, it got cold and rainy mid-race, and the sick part is even knowing what I know now, I would still most likely do it again. I wanted to finish, so I did. Back at camp: exhausted with more pasta and crunchy rice for dinner. Gus' friend Travis came up and we "Did Not Enter" and had a campfire (no rain tonight). Dragged my aching back to bed and slept soundly, feeling safe and happy. Day 3 Today, Hawkes was my new best friend. "Shaina," he said. "Do you want to take a shower?" Did I ever! Joey's mom gave us the key to her hotel room and I became a cleaner, happier person. The downhillers did their downhilling thing and then we drove home without stopping. Almost, we did stop at the gas station in Crested Butte with the sign in the window looking for people like me (ha ha). Five hours, two mix tapes, one crossword puzzle, and some Wheaties later the large white ski team van delivered me home. I thanked Hawkes, and meant it, because even though the boys are dirtier and eat stranger food than the girls, and don't always pee 200 feet away from the river, they are incredibly caring and supportive, which are the most important traits in friends anyway.

July 1 Boulder Short Track

No one is exactly sure where it came from, but after a few shaky laps at yesterday's short track race and a botched pass that put me in a ditch, I took off. As I played catch-up, it occured to me that I was in fact catching up, that I was in fact actually going to pass some girls today! I was going to finish closer to the front of the pack than the back! I finished in the top 5 (5th, I think) which has never happened for me before. It was really fun. And it's been a long time coming.

June 12 The word of the day today was "punishing." The boys loved it: "Oh man! That course was punishing! Three laps of fun!" This race, the Golden Gate Grind, my first with the big (expert and pro) girls and the first I have dropped out of. One lap of fun was enough for me, thank you. I wanted to quit after five minutes. A half-hour of steep and technical climbing/ hike-a-bikes, followed by the most wicked descending I think I have ever seen. The descent of death dropped us into a lush valley complete with 13 creek crossings! More technical stuff, this time with big wet rocks. A thunderstorm had moved in and it was raining. "How far?" I asked a course marshall. He told me I was about half way. Really, I wanted to go home. Given no other option, I lamely pedalled on, feeling very sorry for myself and singing whatever songs I could think of to keep my spirits up ("An Austrian went... oh sh*t... yodelling on a mountain so high...). Throughout the ordeal I thought of something my friends' German swim coach once said: "This is not Girl Scout camp."

6June- Bike Polo

People on bikes riding around in moderately tall grass, wielding mallets and chasing a small, black ball while letting loose all sorts of obscenities (i.e. "that's one big cluster-f***"): I found the sport that missing from my high school team sports class. It is bike polo. I joined the Boulder Bike Polo Club for an evening jaunt at a local park yesterday and woo-hoo! Certainly the most fun I have had all week. I encourage any and all cyling enthusiasts to explore the wonders of bike polo. It is fun, it is strange, it forces you to maneuver in ways you never thought possible while doing a track stand and holding a stick. Cluster-f*** indeed.

26.may.04 Les Mises

Today I recycled a stack of papers that I would guess contained approximately 200-300 sheets and stood three inches thick. This something of a symbolic act: that stack of mic flow charts and mic check lists and press releases and graph paper and the notes I made during each rehearsal and each performance represented the last 200 hours of work I will most likely ever do for a theatrical production. It was Les Miserables; even now I am not sure what to make of the fact that it is over. I still dream about it. It was the most difficult show I have ever worked on (EVER) and the most wonderful as well. Even when things went wrong (and they went very wrong) I felt like I had hit my stride, like I was really and truly in my element. That feeling is what theatre was all about for me. Knowing that we created something so beautiful. So, ten years after my first show, and after 1000 hours of high school theatre, I am done. I am sad, but I am OK with it. This is the choice I made. I discovered that much as I love the theatre, it is not truly my passion. So I put away my Les Mis script, and although something of a dull ache remains, I am ready to see where the next part of my life will take me.

25 mar 04 NOVA Desert Classic

My story begins after two bizarre days in the car and a miserable pre-ride of the TTcourse. The following are (more or less) verbatim excerpts from my journal.

3/19 Time Trial "Whether you're training for your first century ride, competing in your first race, or aiming for another Tour de France win, this is an important idea to embrace. Goals are not the only reason you ride. You ride because it's the lifestyle you want. You ride because it's amazing to find how deep the resources are within you. You ride because you can't ever imagine yourself not riding." - Lance Armstrong. It's funny the things you think of during the delirium of a race. That quote sort of explains what popped into my head as I flew across the last really flat section of the course: that I am not in racing to win or to show anything to anyone else. I am there for me., which is how I really got started in the first place. Biking is the only thing in my life where I have nothing to prove except to myself. For the first 2/3 of my ride I felt great. I was riding clean, pedaling hard. Then something happened, it started to get hot and I started to get tired. Unfortunately, there was whole lot more climbing to do. But when I was on, I felt a little of my old racing self showing through. I just kept trying to remember to "take every advantage" and to never ever stop pedaling. I could hear my friend Daniel yelling, "No brakes!" at me and thought of all the advice teammate/best friend Mara had given and the pep talk from mechanic/team manager Troy. 52 minutes later I sprinted across the finish line, exhausted, but with a time seven minutes faster then last year's 59 minutes on the same course.

3/20 Short Track I like short track. Short track is fast and short track is fun. I was first off the line as usual, but got dropped rather quickly and it was a game of catch-up the rest of the race. I was so close (a 32-second gap between the leader and me), but I couldn't quite make it. I have never worked so hard in my life. Maybe that's not true, but for where I am health-wise right now, I don't think I could be working any harder. I was upset when I got off the course, wishing that I could have stood on the podium, but that passed and I enjoyed the rest of the day: pre-riding the cross-country course and eating vegan cookies. I'm not winning, but I'm having fun. We'll see what happens in the cross country.

3/22 Home again I am nothing short of exhausted. Yesterday's was a hard race. Hard because I was tired and my back hurt and was frustrated. Lost focus because it was hard. Hard because I wasn't 100% focused. It started like a road race, with me leading the pace line (and I figured, why not set a good easy pace? Someone'll attack and then things will get exciting.). So we waited until Kristi (a teammate) broke away. I blocked, then took off in pursuit, knowing full well that I was in for another long solo attempt. One hour and twelve minute later I rolled across the finish line, so happy to be done, so happy to have finished, so happy to be racing. So we sweltered in the record-breaking 95-degree heat, all grateful for our 7:00 a.m. start time. I was initiated into the ranks of expert racing, an unspoken process marked only by completing that first race and starting to form those first alliances. It was windy and everything smelled like flowers. For five days I lived to race bikes. Everything I ate and drank, the sleep I did or didn't get, staying out of the sun. Sitting down and drinking endless packets of Emergen-C. Being part of a TEAM and a community. Meeting Kristi. Living in "The Pit" with Mara and Cat. Mara's profusely-flowing gestures of support. Mtbchick.com- we're like the Spice Girls! Handling a bike well even when my body was failing me. Jude at Magura (thank you!). Sunrise on the desert. Eating outÉ side the room. Troy telling me to jump rattlesnakes "Matrix style" and Troy always saying to have fun and telling us how proud he is. Earning that ice cream. Riding three clean, if imperfect races. Three colors of tan on my legs and that mark on my thigh where a cactus grabbed at me. Seeing quail. Knowing I had worked my hardest. Living a bike race to living the everydayÉ what a weird transition.

02/21/04 on being sick i have been sick for close to a month with one of those strangley unidentifiable illnesses i tend to get. therefore i must rest a lot, with the obvious implication being NO BIKING (or running or hiking or anything for that matter). i am known for my enthusiastic exuberance (read: hyperactivity) and getting tired from doing nothing is slowly but surely driving me nuts. my mountain bike leans against the wall in my room, idle, and as the temperatures hit 60 (i love winter in colorado) i am lucky if i can perhaps go on a walk in the sunshine. needless to say i am frustrated. however, no situation is all bad. throughout my whole life i have been very involved with theatre, and this period of decreased physical activity is allowing me to focus on that more than i have lately. our musical (my last) this spring is the epic Les Miserables and i am taking this opportunity to work on it. as the "sound engineer" i face a number of daunting tasks. some perspective: i have access to 12 wireless microphones and upwards of 30 people will be sharing them. so i am learning to find a balance between my first love, theatre, and my newest love, mountain biking. not that i wouldn't rather be well and riding, mind you.

january 18 sunday i have learned to love riding on the road. i used to be bored by the long and often solitary hours of simply turning the pedals over and over and over, but now i find joy and serenity in the repetition. listening to music helps in pass the time (a headphone in the left ear so i can hear traffic with the other), but the speed of a road bike combined with colorado air helps even more so. even when my 1984 fuji sport won't shift of won't stop shifting or the breaks don't work or... when i am riding (especially on a sunny sunday morning like today) my head is clear, my lungs open up and i find myself smiling, apparently quite out of context. i left early today and was almost home by the time the big packs of roadies started passing on the other side of the road. it occured to me that most of the people i know weren't even awake yet. i hadn't seen another rider until i was a quarter of the way back from lyons. but by that point i was glad to see another happily bundled up person enjoying the winter sun. that's another thing. almost everyone waves or smiles or shouts out a greeting. i also noticed that i was the only girl on the road. actually, no. i saw one other woman who did not smile when i waved. she looked miserable. so i was one of two girls on the road, and i was the only one having fun.

12.dec.03

Cyclocross: An Epic Parable

I successfully completed my very first season of competitive cycling with three cyclocross races in a 28 hour period. This, some would say, was not a good idea. I disagree. This was an excellent idea. First of all, I thoroughly enjoy cyclocross. I do not take it particularly seriously, but love the intense efforts of short track racing combined with the added challenge of navigating barriers. Racking up two state championships is not a bad thing either. Saturday's race at the Denver Federal Center (an interesting venue, very high security) was just me and the boys. Despite the ridiculous height of the barriers and the sheer speed at which many of my male counterparts operate, I managed to beat a few, much to their chagrin. Sunday morning's had a far smaller crowd consisting of many of the same boys. Basically, if we finished, we got medals. I ended up going harder than I intended to (how could I not? tonya was there with the camera, dana had a sign, daniel's whole family was present, and i of course wanted to show the boys what was up). I felt the effects of that one in a very serious way during the afternoon race with the women. Much like my mountain bike season, some was lost this weekend, a lot was gained, and the overall experience was very positive. I finished up the last lap of the last race and besides thinking, "pizza," i thought about what a very long way i have come since those 'cross races last fall. I am, however, ready for a little bit of time off. I feel I definitely have earned it.

24 Hours of Moab Journal

10.24.03

Race Morning. I have not yet ventured outside the warmth of my tent, but I have a feeling it is beautiful outside. The little bit of ground I can see outside my door is pinker than usual, being hit by early-morning light. It is here, the race I have been working for, thinking about all year. And now it is my chane to shine. I feel good this morning. 7:58 pm I hour, 47 minutes. It didn't matter to me if we were beating the Y-Riders or how anyone else was doing. I had ridden my first sub-two hour lap. I struggled with the first part of the course, yet from mile five or so on I was in love with the world. I missed by own bicycle (was riding Tonya's), but when I came around behind Prostitute Butte (which actually looks more like a whale) everything was glowing and I could not stop grinning. 12:25 am Getting ready for the night lap. I'm ready. I'm nervous, but good nervous. I feel strong and I feel focused. Let's see what I can do. 4:15 am Post-awesome-middle-of-the-night lap. The two hours and six minutes I spent on the course between 1:30 and 3:30 am are arguably the best I've ever had on a bike. not the fastest, but I had so much fun. There is something about flying through the dark. seeing only directly ahead and knowing the sky is ablaze with stars that just blows me away. I was utterly thrilled by the fact that it was THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT and I was racing my bike (in my eighties jersey). There is a strange bond between racers at night, stranger than during the day. Even if you aren't talking, there is an inexplicable, but very present connection over this strange, scary, wonderful thing you are all doing together. Tonya has been telling me and telling me how strong and powerful I am, and this is the first time I have actually believed her. She seemed so proud of me, especially after my third lap, that I felt like I'd transitioned from being told I did well because I tried so darn hard to actually riding well. That third lap was a hard one. Tonya told me the lap would be tough, that it would hurt, that I might cry, but somehow, somewhere, I had to find the strength to ride it fast and clean. I felt ready to do it. My dad, Tonya, and I waited in the log-in tent for Cat and I knew that it was my chance to prove (to myself, mainly) what I was capable of. The sun was coming up. A man rode into the tent and yelled, "Good morning!" Everyone cheered. My muscles twitched in anticipation of what I had to do. Cat came through and I was gone. I was hurting. I didn't end up crying, but I was planning for what to do if I puked. Did I stay on the bike or get off? I received an enthusiastic morning greeting from a fellow racer: "GOOD MORNING MOUNTAIN BIKE CHICK!" There is amazing energy on the dawn lap. No one's legs feel great, but the sun is up and the world is glowing. This is enough to put racers in a very good mood. How wonderful it is to really, really appreciate something so everyday as a sunrise. One hour and fifty-three minutes later I handed the baton to Mara. Tonya was right. I did have the strength, I just had to know how to find it. A note on support: in a word, AWESOME. Thank you Peter, Tonya, Troy, and dad. There really aren't enough words to express how grateful I am to the four of you.

8/24/03 winter park tiperrary creek point-to-point king of the rockies series grand finale (long name for a long race) 26 miles, 2 hours 53 minutes. the last cross-country race of my first cross-country racing season. also, the best. i didn't start strong; i was at the back of the pack and suffering 10 minutes into the race. but, we hit the first hill and i hit my stride. one by one i passed the women ahead of me, and the men ahead of them. all previous pain was gone and i took off. not only was i climbing with greater speed than usual, i actually rode FAST on the donwhills! i always get dropped when the trail gets steep, but not this time. i'd never caught anyone on a descent before. when i started to suffer again, about 2/3 of the way through, this random rider (not racer) who i'd seen periodically during the race was waiting (for me?) and eating a snack. the climbing was wicked and i was tired, but he cheered/led me all the way to the top. i didn't see him again. to me, mountain bike racing can be as much about human connection as physical and technical skill. by the time i hit the final straightaway i was toast! my legs were shaking and didn't want to turn the cranks anymore. dave carlson was waiting, cheering, telling me, "200 meters 200 meters!" i finished (for the first time) in the top 50% of my class.

8/14 thursday

6am: i am picked up, my new bike (YAY!) fussed over and loaded onto the car. we (that would be gus and sam and andrew hawkes and yours truly) are finally en route to durango! approximately 7 hours later: we hit the hotel, and lo and behold, there stands troy, holding a box containing my rear wheel. excellent.

3pm: registration

4pm: we begin to pre-ride

4:06pm: torrential downpour

4:13pm: my rear wheel comes off my bike (uh-oh)

4:20-4:30pm: make new friends while waiting for the thunderheads to be on their way

4:32pm: continue with the pre-ride

4:41pm: the sun comes back out and everything is absolutely beautiful

4:43pm: gus and i see a marmot

5:30pm: muddy, happy, and exhausted we head back to the hotel (editor's note: all times are "approximate")

8/15 friday today was a day of feed zone fun for me. i actually very much enjoy the feed zone; that's where you meet all sorts of interesting people and really is the best place to support your teammates and friends from. it was so great to see everyone having the rides of their lives! i love having everybody here. Now it is the night before my cross-country race and i am quite frankly scared out of my mind, but also think i might be able to do well. i'm feelin' it.

8/16 saturday as we drove to the venue this morning it was beautiful. cold and wet, but beautiful. then the rain really started coming down, which resulted in two things: an awesome double rainbow and a really muddy race. it was a brutal ride, that's for sure, but i felt like i held my own (even if i did finish 3rd out of 3...) i was first off the line (helped along by the huge amounts of adrenaline, i'm sure), but ended up pretty far back after dropping my chain in the feed zone. i liked having nothing ahead of me but trail; that never happens when i'm racing! i did manage to catch and pass the girl ahead of me at the top of the climb<-- the craziest hill ever: very steep, very long. props to her on her descending skills though, she definitely lost me going downhill (the downhill on which i had a particularly spectacular and amusing crash; imagine an area on a hillside the size of a sliding girl with bike completely cleared of vegetation). needless to say, i was toast when i got home. after a rough race and 7+ hours of driving, i slept a solid 13 hours. what a good weekend.

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