Finally

Today at PT, I rode a stationary bike with my hands.  Ooh, I know you're jealous and yes I did feel like I was 104 years old.  But you know, it also felt kind-of good.  I arm pedaled backwards and forwards for 10 minutes and got a good work-out, for my shoulder.  Then I finally got to do some new exercises, but only cuz I saw another lady recovering from shoulder surgery a month ahead of me doing them last week.  So I showed the PT lady I could do those and she actually let me.  Yippee.  After this session, I was a little sore, I was in pain, and it felt good.

After PT, I went to the gym and rode the step mill at level 150 until I had to stop.  I felt even better.

Later as I was walking out of preschool with the baby, I turned back because the teacher was saying something and walked my shoulder right into the corner of the wall, hard.  It knocked the wind out of me, and I actually had to feel my shoulder with my hand to make sure the bone hadn't popped out of place.

All is well.  But it sure did scare me.  My clumsiness may bite me in the but here.  I just need to make it to 12 weeks post op for all the 'stuff' to heal.

Going Nowhere Slow

I was so excited for today's PT session.  I was finally moving on, moving onto the next phase of my therapy.  And what happens?  The therapist had me move my arm all the way up over my head and do one new rotator cuff exercise.  Ugh!  I've been doing this for over a week on my own, everyday.

I so want to make some progress, do more, feel like I'm getting somewhere.  But no, we need to take it slow.  I'm pulling my hair out.  In the meantime, I'm going to the gym each day, twice today, taking spinning classes, and losing weight.  The 32 pound baby is not a problem anymore.  When do I get to be me again?

I'm Mean & I Figured It Out

Ever since my accident, it's been dry, cool, perfect riding weather.  I hate it, I'm jealous, I admit it.  But after a month of this little drought, it's been raining in Charlotte for the past two days.  My grass is happy, my bushes are smiling, my trees are in a great mood.  And me, I'm really loving it too.  Why?  Cuz no one else can ride either!  I know, that's mean, sorry.  But it makes me feel better.

And I think I figured out the weird gym thing.  There's a lady next to me tonight doing these funky abductor excercises.  And it hit me.  She's working on her abs for her abs, just her abs.  Nothing else.  When I mountain bike, I work on every single part of my body without thinking about any one of them for even a second.  I focus on the thrill, the burn, the pure joy.  There's no joy in crunches.

Anyway, the gym is good for me now and I really appreciate being able to do something, but I am so ready to get back on the bike.

Tiny Progress

This morning I took my third spin class and even rode for a while without my sling.  I couldn't put much pressue on my arm, more out of fear than pain.  But still it felt good to just hold onto handlebars.  After class I did bicep curls and tri's.  I'm doing anything I can to maintain some muscle tone.

I felt so good this afternoon that I spent almost two hours washing the bamboo floors in my entire house, with both hands on my knees.  I know this sounds stupid, but it made me so happy.

Now, I can pcik up my 32 pound son and put my hair in a pony tail.  Silly, small progress, but progress.

I see a mountain bike on a greenway in my near future, not real mountain biking, but baby steps on the way back to the trails.

Just Go Faster

Today I was asked to write a short cycling bio that included some advice.  So what did I write?  Just go faster.  It's the first thing that came to my mind.  But then after I hit send, I thought about it...  Do I still believe it?  Can I still live by it, ride by it?

I remember when I was first learning to ride, hubby told me everything gets easier with speed.  And it turns out it was true, so true.

But when I get back on the bike in a few months, will I have the confidence to speed through the roots, rocks, bumps, jumps.  I feel hesitant already.  To be honest, the longer I'm off the bike, the more leery I get about getting back on.  Will I ever get back to 100%, or 110% like in a race?

The whole six months off the bike that the doc told me about on Tuesday is really sinking in.  Although I can't imagine I'll really have to take that much time off.  PT is going well.  In a week and a half I had all my range of motion back (which was supposed to take 4 weeks).  So the next two and a half weeks are just going through the motions until I can start strengthening the joint and muscles.

I may fast forward through rehab, but I'll have to remember my own advice when I get back on the bike.

Spinning Might Be Good For Me

Today I took a spinning class for the first time in about four years.  Sad to say, it kicked my butt.  Just weeks ago I was ready to mountain bike for 50 miles and over five hours.  Today 40 minutes on a spinning bike in a gym wore me out.  Ouch!  That's embarrassing, but true.

The teacher was young, had great legs, and a really fake smile.  The musics was decent.  And the bikes have come a long way in a few years.  My new gym has Kaiser bikes with little computers displaying RPM, kcal, watts, and resistance.  I have to admit, it was nice having a gauge.

I remember when I started mountain biking, I was taking spinning classes 5-6 days a week.  Mountain biking required skills I didn't have, but the cardio part was so easy.  I was able to stand and cycle for most of the ride.  Now after years of only mountain biking and running, I'm not sure that I'm stronger.  I have more skills, but are my legs and lungs stronger?  Not sure.

So, wearing my rose colored glasses, I'm thinking spinning might be good for my mountain biking.  I guess we'll see when I get back on the real bike and race again....soon.  Well maybe not soon.

Today the doc said he'd like me to take 6 months off mountain biking.  What?!?  Oh, but I'm welcome to start road biking in 3 months.  Are you kidding?  I'm not a roadie and have no interest in playing in traffic.

I'm trying to stay positive.  My range of motion is weeks ahead of where it should be.  I'm back to my pre accident weight.  I'm working out every day and even lifting light weights with my right had.  Think good thoughts...

Gyms Are Strange / A Fitness Background

For the most part I've been pretty lucky.  I was a chubby baby, rolls on my leg rolls, and not much of a neck to speak of, but I leaned out in my grade school years, and my mom started me running and going to the gym before I hit double digits.

Today, I step-milled next to a really fit 27 y/o named Kelly.  We chatted, it made the time go by quickly.  Well, my whole 35 minutes before the childcare center closed.  She of course did an hour and 45 minutes at a speed almost twice mine.  Without thinking, I asked her if she was a gym rat or did something else.  She said gym rat and didn't seem offended.  That's so odd.  I looked around and really started thinking.  How many of these people are just here for their bodies?  I mean just how they look.  Okay maybe health too, but really to change or keep their figure.  They have no goal, no focus, no other reason to be there.  More reps, more weight, longer time on the step-mill.  I'm not saying that's bad or wrong.  It's just odd to me now.

But it shouldn't be odd. I was a gym rat for years, and loved it.  These are from Gold's Gym in Redondo Beach, CA in the early 90's.  Forgive the Pebbles Flinstone hair; I could never get a pony tail to stay in and hated the hair on my back.  And please appreciate the spandex and tall socks!  I have no shame.

I did aerobics, step classes, kick-boxing, spinning, free weights, and even the mind numbing machines for what seems like millions of years.  I did two 5k's in college.  In 2000 I ran my first half marathon as a fluke.  I couldn't walk for three days.  For the next three years, I ran the same half marathon on super bowl Sunday without a day of training, and paid for it each time.

In September of 2004 I started training for a marathon.  It got me out of the gym for the first time in my life.  I had almost 30 miles of strand between Huntington Beach and Newport Beach to run along.  I loved it, I mean really fell in love with life outside the gym.  I didn't stop going to the gym, just added awesome 17-21 miles runs a few times a week.  I ran my first marathon early that December and another in February just about a minute apart, 3:44 and 3:45, if I remember correctly.

On Valentine's Day of 2005, I drove across the country and moved to Charlotte.  That May I started mountain biking, and by the next Spring I gave up the gym after I did my first mountain bike race.  Mountain bike racing was nothing like the run races I'd done in the past.  Run races are you against your best time, or at least they were for me.  I was never elite, never going to win, that's even silly to type.  But mountain biking racing was different.  I was green, totally new, running my bike on the sections I didn't know how to ride and yet chasing the girls in front of me with everything I had.   I mean everything.  I went as fast as I could.  Worked harder in a hour and 20 minute bike race than I did in a marathon.  It was the best feeling.  The biggest high.  I was addicted immediately.  And have been ever since.

Now I am broken, back in the gym and hating life, well as much as you can with the most adorable 2 y/o ever.  And here are all these gym rats around me.  Are they athletes?  Do we have anything in common?  It sure doesn't feel like it.

Some day I will be back with my mountain biking friends, back with the Dirt Divas, maybe even racing with the guys again.  I will get another bike, I will ride again, I will race again.  And I will keep repeating this in my head until it comes true.

Physical Therapy Begins

Tuesday I had my first PT appointment.  Uh, what can I say.  It was weird.  Everyone in the waiting room was a bazillion years old and had trouble moving e-ver-e-thing!  Seriously they were pretty decrepit.  I'm not trying to be mean, sorry.  Here I am less than two weeks post surgery, helping people in and out of their chairs with one arm.

Anyway, the PT lady came recommended, seemed experienced, and was pretty and clean; important to me.  She was really pleased with my range of motion lifting my arm over my head and to the side.  No scar tissue at all.  But when it came to my rotator cuff, it was frozen solid.  So that was a bit scary.

I continue twice a week for the next month or so, passive PT only, where only the lady moves my arm.  I can't really say that with a two y/o I'm totally following doctor's orders, but I'm trying.

In my attempt to not run or bike for 12 weeks, I actually joined a gym this week.  That's so odd to me.  It's been almost 4 years since I've been a gym rat.  Although I have to admit I grew up in the gym.

I first joined Results in Torrance when I was 8.  It was bought out my Sports Connection.  Then I moved onto Gold's Gym until I got a good job and was able to afford the Spectrum Clubs in LA and Orange County before I moved to NC.

This week I joined Urban Active Fitness.  It's an awesome three story, cool, modern, and yes, clean gym; very reminiscent of the Spectrum Clubs in CA, just not as plush.

Riding the step-mill or stairway to hell as I affectionately call it, has totally lifted my spirits. I've even been doing squats, and tried biceps curls with both arms!  I know that sounds silly, but last week I was really down.  My weight was up, and I was hating life.  Now I'm going to the gym almost every day and feel so much better.  It's not mountain biking, but the sweat is so important. 

PT started and working on cardio at the gym. 2 weeks down, 10 to go.  I will ride again, I will race again...as soon as I get a new bike.

Bikes Of My Past

Am I really going to go through them all?  Hmm, well I did start to ride when I was 10, so that eliminates a ton of Huffies, but still, maybe that's too much.  I mean who really cares.  Well I do.  And I'm anal enough to want a complete list.  So here goes.

My first bike, which was purchased soon after my return from that year I spent in Kiev with my Aunt, was a gorgeous, dark purple 10 speed.   Don't recall the brand or model, but I loved it, I mean really loved that bike.  I grew up lower middle class and did not have all the latest clothes or toys, but I had a cool bike.  My step-dad would take me on long rides along the strand that seemed to last all day.  Those are some of the best memories from my childhood.  Although every time I rode I had a deadly fear that those skinny tires would get caught in a crack in the pavement, and I would fly over the handlebars.  It never happened of course.  But the fear still remains, 'til this day.  I have never ridden skinny tires since.

In 1995 I graduated from UCLA with a Chemical Engineering degree.  As a graduation gift to myself, I bought my first real bike.  I actually still have the receipt, wish I had a picture too, but sadly I do not.  I bought a GT mountain bike from a bike shop in Redondo Beach, CA.  I picked the bike for two reasons, big tires (that would not get stuck in the cracks) and the cool paint job - yellow and blue splatter (UCLA colors).  I know, I know.  But hey, I grew up in the 80's, what do you expect?  And did I do any mountain biking, nah, just rode on the strand in my bikini like I did on my 10 speed, but with less fear.

Fast forward a bunch of years and I find myself in Charlotte, NC with an eight year sentence.  The gyms suck!  There is no strand to run marathon distances along the beach like I did in Huntington.  The summer heat and bugs were awful, still are actually, and when it hit below 40 degrees, I was a wimp and didn't want to run outside.  I moved to Charlotte in February.  By May, I was completely miserable.  My boyfriend, and the reason I moved here, suggested mountain biking.  Huh?  Okay, whatever, I owed him a birthday present.  So off we went to the local bike shop.  Rod bought a Gary Fisher Rig in a dark purple reminiscent of my first bike.  It was awesome.  My choices were slim.  I bought a green Gary Fisher Cake III.  I think that was all they had in my size, which wasn't actually my size, but too big, but oh well, it was my first time spending what I thought at the time was a ton of money on a bike.

I could share the story of my first ride down the driveway, or learning to ride, but we'll save that for another post.  Instead, here's a picture of me on my first real mountain bike at a race in the Summer of 2006.  Note I have gym tights on and a little tank.  I resisted bike shorts for over a year, as I didn't want to wear a 'diaper.'

But my the end of the racing season, the second year I rode, I finally broke down and bought some cycle shorts.

Purple Tassels?  Yup, tassels. 

That was my nickname for years.  I bought them so that people would know that I was new on the trails and not run me over.  When I started racing they never came off and in fact were replaced dozens of times when I'd lose them in a crash.  They became my signature.  It got funnier and finnier as I would overhear guys cursing that they got passed by 'Tassels!'  So yeah, I kept them on.

By the middle of 2006, a few months after I started racing, I was talked into needing a better, lighter bike that actually fit me.  So I bought a black Titus RacerX 100.  I upgraded to purple I9 wheels (to match the purple tassels) and a SID fork with a handlebar lock-out.  It was a great bike at the time and really improved my confidence.

I even raced it in the cold in the Winter Series in 2007.

As I became more active in the Dirt Divas and rode and raced with more girls, everyone began to notice that I always stand when I climb, and for most of the time I ride.  They always asked why I had a full suspension.  So it made me think about it...  Drop the rear suspension, lose a few pounds, climb faster, no more bouncing wheel behind me.  It was almost too good to be true, so why not.  Let's try a hardtail.

At the same time I wanted to compete in a 12 hour race in the single speed category.  So I built up a silver Soma single speed bike.  I put my Fox fork and CrossMax SL wheels from my Titus on it and had a nice little bike.  I really enjoyed the pure riding of a single speed for fun rides, although when I raced in cross country I still needed gears.

At the same time, a funky local bike shop owner, who built up the Soma for me, really wanted to get me on a 29er.  I had always thought at 5'3" I was way too short.  But he said we could go custom, custom Ti in fact.  Cool.  So my next bike was a Ti Willets 29er, with purple custom I9 wheels to match my weight, and a carbon lefty fork.  She was really sweet.  The laid back Ti seat post gave me all the flex I needed and that bike just floated on the trails.  I picked her up on December 24, 2007.  The next day, I found out I was pregnant.  So it was almost a year later before I was really able to open her up.  I rode 5-6 days a week during my pregnancy, sometimes, 2 hours per day, but still not at race pace, except for the few times I raced, but again, another post.

That funky local bike shop owner sold his shop a few years later and left me hanging without someone in Charlotte that could service my bike.  Huge bummer.

By a chance meeting last winter, I found out about the new Trek Bicycle Store in Charlotte.  They welcomed me to their local cycling team with open arms, nominated me to be a Trek Mountain Co-op athlete, and even offered me a part time job.  Too cool!  So, my next bike was a Trek Top Fuel 9.9SSL, fully carbon, full suspension, and 26 inch wheels.  When I change it up, I really change it up.  I bought the bike sight unseen.  I was nervous.  I'll be honest.  But from the first ride, I loved it.  I know, stock bike, 26 inch wheels, full suspension.  So weird.  But it was awesome.  Clearly suspension has come a long way since I bought my Titus in 2006.  This was a great bike, at a great time.  I enjoyed my part time work at the shop.  I loved selling bikes to kids.  And Trek really took care of me and my bike.  It was, and still is, a great situation.

Sadly, I did sell my Top Fuel bike to pay for my shoulder surgery, but I know I'll figure something out soon.  I'm about 1.5 weeks into my 12 week recovery program and doing well.  So stay tuned for my next bike...

How Did You Learn To Ride A Bike?

I don't remember training wheels or tricycles?  I did have roller skates as a child and loved them.  Growing up in Southern California, I skated in the neighborhood and on the strand, all year round.  It was pretty perfect.

When I was ten and my little sister was six, we took a family trip back to the Ukraine to visit my mother's  family.  After spending a few weeks there vising aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents, my Mom and Step Dad (#2, that's another story) decided to to leave my sister and I there for a year.  What?   Yeah, and split us up, each with one of my Mom's sisters' family.  Huh?  Yup, for a year.  Cool!

I was supposed to be going into 4th grade, but they put me in 1rst, I slowly moved to 2nd in a few months, nice.  Yes, the US school systems are that far behind.  Sad, I know.  Anyway, after some adjustments and learning to speak Russian (small detail), it wasn't so bad.  I actually have a ton of great memories of that year, really.

One of the best is learning how to ride a bike.  It was at my grandparents house in Koresten, which is a small town near the Polish border.  I can remember thinking the bike was a little big and my youngest Aunt telling me that this is the same bike my Mom learned to ride on as a child.  Weird.  My grandpa put me on the saddle, told me to pedal, and ran along with me for a few seconds.  Then all of the sudden, he's gone.  I'm going down a dirt path that they called a driveway to the big wooden gate at the street.....  Big gates, getting bigger.  Uh, how do you stop?  Our quick lesson did not include brakes!  ...Bonk, ouch!

I did it, I learned to ride.  I know, I was already 10 and 10 is late, but I was still pretty proud.  All my cousins cheered.  Then we each climbed up an apple tree in the backyard, pelted each other with apples, and tried not to fall out of the trees.  Yeah lots of good memories.

How did you learn to ride a bike?

The Shoulder

On the morning of August 28th I woke up early.  I never wake up early.  I'm always late.  I love to sleep, a total night owl.  Anyway, I woke up early because I was so excited to be doing my 2nd River's Edge 50 Mile Mountain Bike Race at the National Whitewater Center.  Last year I won, pretty easily actually.  And that was even after running out of water with an hour to go. 

But this year, there would be some competition, 10 other girls, and our former pro Patty Smith, who started our local female mountain biking club, The Dirt Divas.  The USNWC is her backyard, her best course.  So I was ready for a tough race, a good battle. 

I took it easy at the local race the previous Wednesday night.  And even took Thursday and Friday off.  That's tough for me.  Rest days are not fun!

I actually purposefully hydrated Friday and selected my food, instead of eating whatever my two year old threw on the floor.

So I was excited, I felt good.  I got there early, set everything up at my shared tent.  Road to the start line and lined up in front, announcing I was the female winner from last year, so I earned a spot up here.  No arguments, come on up.  Nice.  This was good, I was ready...let's go. 

And we finally went, got a decent start, road on the pavement, entered the Whitewater Center, onto the gravel, into the single track.  Doing well, feeling good.  In a pack of guys riding a little slow, but decent.  A guy stops at the beginning of a rocky climb and I don't make it around him.  No problem, I move over and keep riding.  I get to the top of the little climb, go around the rooty tree, and get ready for a roll drop.  Well of the left side of the drop where you get to roll down, a guy has stopped.  Hm...what to do.  I always go left, I mean ALWAYS go left.  Is there another line?  Do I do the drop?  Can I?  Do I ask him to move?  Do I stop and walk down the drop?  No!  That would be silly, this is a race, GO!  And boom!  Front wheel hits, I hit, bike hits me, in that order.

I can't get up, I can't move.  I ask some nice guy to please move me out of the trail.  He picks me and my bike up and I hop back on.  Oh, wait a minute, my right arm is numb, weird.  I try to break as I approach a rock garden.  OUCH!  Oh shit.  This is bad.  Now I feel pain.  I'm screaming, I'm crying, I'm so freaking embarrassed!  I reach up to my right shoulder with my left hand, and ugh, I feel nauseous.

So what do I do next.  I decide to RUN with my bike, I mean really run.  It's a race right.  I don't want to loose too much time.  I run as I far as I can then realize I could run faster without the bike.  I drop the bike, and run back out the start finish, and ask for a medic.  Another lady says she's a doctor, good, I thought,  No not good!

Okay, I won't stretch this out.  Let's just say that they thought I had dislocated my shoulder and tried to POP is back into place for almost two hours, before her partner another doc gave up and sent me to the emergency room. 

For the record for the first hour, I fully expected to go back our there and finish the race.  I mean I ate for the race, I was ready to ride 50 miles, not 1.5.  I had never DNF'd before.  I was so mad, so so mad!

Anyway, I called hubby and he and the boy met me at the emergency room.  Here's a picture of the beautiful shoulder waiting to see a doc.

And here the x-ray they took after injecting so many drugs into me that I passed out.  Nurse: pain scale from 1 to 10.  Me: 1.  Nurse:  Okay double dose of anti-nausea, and horse dose of pain killer.  Awesome.  I'm sure they loved billing for it too.

Turns out my shoulder was not dislocated, but torn.  Imagine that after someone try to tear my arm off to two hours while putting my un-dislocated shoulder back into place.  Homeward bound with a simple sling, more drugs, and a referral to a ortho doc.  Another lovely angle of the shoulder.

Monday I saw a youngish, fancy surgeon, Dr. Marcus Cook, at Perry Orthopedics.  They were recommended to me at the bike race.  He spent about 37 second with me, didn't look at my shoulder and said I needed surgery.  I had a 5th degree tear of all the joints (maybe it would have only been two if someone hadn't tugged on my arm for two hours after I fell???)  Oh and the procedure, would cost $25,000 minimum.  Okay, I held it together just long enough for him to leave the room.  The nurse walked me over to surgery scheduling and I broke down.  Tears streaming down my face, remember I'd hydrated so well.  It was pretty bad.  I felt sorry for the poor scheduler.  But she was nice;  even called my insurance company and got the complete out of pocket expense breakdown.  Surgery Thursday 5am, love mornings, great!

Tuesday for my sanity, I met with another ortho doc at OrthoCarolina, older, more experienced, nicer, spent a lot of time with me answering questions., etc.  He recommended the same thing, surgery, but a different way and different type. 

Not to get dogged down in the medical mumbo jumbo, but here goes.  Fancy doc would do the surgery arthroscopically with a rig made from Ti and cadaver tissue to rebuild the ligaments and joint.  He would cut me open only if the scope was not working well enough, and then maybe have to use a screw.  Old doc would just cut me open and use the screw, because it was easier.  Hmm.  One guy spent 37 seconds with me, but I have more confidence in his procedure.  The second is sweet and nice but seems outdated.

So I went for Mr. Fancy Yougish Doctor, aka Dr. Cook.

I sold both my bikes to pay for the surgery.  That was really sad.  But with a 12 week recovery time ahead I though I'd have time to figure something out...

Morning of surgery, I did not wake up early.  But got there early thanks to hubby.  Got a nerve block before the surgery, kind of like an epidural for your arm (note I had Jack drug free).  Surgery went well.  Recovery so far has been a lot of time in bed, lots of pain meds, and a pretty unhappy mountain biker.  What did you expect?

Here's a shot of the shoulder a few days after surgery.

This morning I had my first post op appointment.  The nurse took off the glue stickers from my cuts, and the doc came in all smiles, like he had just saved the world, or ate a worm.  I mean really, he was giddy.  Seriously though, he did a great job.  My shoulder looks good, function is very good for one week post op.  He spent a lot of time going over the scope pictures and explaining the new rig in my shoulder.  He was proud.  It was cute.  I thanked him, probably not enough, but how could I.  Seriously, thank you for giving me half my upper body back.  I really appreciate my right arm not hanging down two inches lower than my left.  What flavor of cookies covers that Martha?

Here's a shot of the new contraption in my shoulder.  Pretty cool, huh?

First rehab appointment next Tuesday after I drop Jack off at school.  Soooo excited!!!

Bike Background

I was born in the Ukraine on January 8, 1973. My mom was trading goods on the black market and my dad was a student from the Afganni Air Force studying in Kiev when they met. In November of 1975 my mom and I emigrated to Redondo Beach, CA. My mom was big on health food and exercise so I started going to the gym with her when I was 8. I started running when I was 9. Strangely enough, I first learned how to ride a bike when I was 11 years old back in the village of Koresten on the same bike my mom and all her sisters rode when they were kids. I was a cool nerd in school and graduated from UCLA in 1995 with a Chemical Engineering degree. I kept up my fitness throughout my life with my greatest accomplishments being two marathons.

In February of 2005 I moved to Charlotte to be with a boy I met when I was 14. I missed the beach, the cool air, and the lack of bugs. Running in the cold winters and the hot summer humidity was not fun. And the gyms did not measure up. So that June, the boy suggested mountain biking. After a lot of bumps, bruises, blood, and scars, I really learned to tolerate riding.  That fall, I slipped on one wet root and put my bike away till next Spring.

Then one day in April 2006, I went riding by myself at the only course I knew, Francis Beatty Park, and there was a race starting. That changed everything. The race was amazing. I had never worked so hard. I breathed easier doing a marathon. Run races are you against yourself. This was different. I had never chased another girl. I had no skills but my lungs and legs took me as fast as I could go. It was such an incredible high I had never felt before. I was totally hooked. That summer I did the local races in the sport class (beginners laps were too short). In the winter of 2007, I moved up to Super Sport and by the end of the summer of 2007, I moved up to expert.

I took a break from racing, not riding, in 2008 to have a baby. I rode until 5 days before giving birth and was back on my bike 12 days after my son was born.  I rode a Ti hardtail 29er on trails through my entire pregnancy, and yes, Jack's fine!

In 2009 and 2010 I have raced in the expert class regionally and with the sport men locally.  My favorite races are the 6 hour endurance and 50 milers.  This past July I also competed in my first Xterra race which I loved.  Next year I hope to incorporate 4-5 Xterra races into my schedule.

Mountain bike racing has become my true passion and I'd love to share it with more people, especially women and young girls.

Welcome to Hammer and Psychle

If you're looking for great writing and witty thoughts, you've come to the wrong place.  You'd think after almost three years of blogging, you know the usual baby blog for the grandparents, that I'd learned to write.  Well, sorry.  No such luck.

Who am I and why the heck should you read my blog.  Well, I'm a mountain biker, I'm a Mom, and I'm a wife.  The why part still eludes me, but hey, random people read about my kid, so why not my cycling.

And let's get the cycling thing straight from the start.  I mountain bike, I do not own a road bike and have no intentions of playing in traffic anytime soon.

As it turns out, mountain biking is dangerous enough for me.  I lay here in bed, right arm in a sling from shoulder surgery last Thursday to repair all the torn ligaments from a fall 1.5 miles into a 50 mile bike race on August 28th.

Oh, and I officially own no bikes.  I sold my custom Ti Willets hardtail and my Trek Top Fuel 9.9SSL to pay for my shoulder surgery.  So unless you count the 4 year old Redline that's rusting in the garage, I am bikeless.

Hammer and What???  I was born in Russia in January of 1973 and emigrated with my Mom to Redondo Beach, CA in November of 1975.  Get it?

My plan for the blog is to share the mountain biking aspect of the my life.  In the next few weeks, I'll be updating my shoulder recovery and filling in the details of my cycling history.  Enjoy!