An interesting, somewhat in-depth opinion on Elena Myers from an Ohio motor sports journalist.

Rob McCurdy: We’ll wait and see with latest prodigy

This piece conflicts me. At first read, I’m excited to hear fun tidbits about everyone’s favorite girl racer like her response to how she enjoys the media attention, “‘What girl doesn’t?’ she joked.” And I find myself agreeing with Mr. McCurdy’s suggestion to “wait and see” as to her greatness as a rider and her place in motorcycle racing relative to Danica’s brightly flaming star in the car racing world.

“But…but. She’s a girl,” is my final response to Rob. “You don’t understand!”

Understand what? That motorcycle racing is hard. And aggressive. And physical. Three things that nature didn’t particularly intend for our childbearing hips, hips that many of us would rather have square to the corner as we go in deep on the brakes. And for a girl to rise to the level of skill she’s attained thus far in her young life is nothing short of amazing.

Amazing, also, is a set of parents who encourage, tempered with what seems like a healthy dose of common sense, their daughter to believe in a dream that will very likely cause great physical injury to her at one or more points in her life. In an era where helicopter parents do double time protecting their children from every potential threat in the universe, Mr. & Mrs. Myers cheer on the sidelines as their daughter races a motorcycle. The number of parents who would tolerate this for a child of any gender is small, and it’s my personal opinion that it is still deeply ingrained in nearly every human to protect females from harm and reward males for accomplishing dangerous and physical feats.

Part of me commends Mr. McCurdy for ignoring gender and evaluating her entirely on her riding potential, comparing her possibilities to greats like Ben and Nicky. Kind of like when my motorcycle stud of a fiance takes me up the steepest trails my first time dirt biking, thinking that I can just “figure it out” because I’m obviously a bad ass for road racing (that little adventure ended in tears).

There is still, however, a part of me that shrieks with childlike glee when I see a “girl on a motorcycle! Girl on a motorcycle!” It’s just so uncommon. Unexpected. And when women do the uncommon and unexpected, I feel they are absolutely due a little extra credit.

Road racing, in particular contrast to car racing, is highly physical. I’m not saying cars are not, but to me it feels like the difference between football and ping pong. Both require skill, finesse and precision, but…they’re just not the same. And if I’m wrong, fine, but somebody better help me change my bike set-up because it is work to run that CBR600RR around Thunderhill in under two minutes. And when you attempt a bold move on a bike, one that could end in a crash, the likelihood of grave injury is high; not nearly as much with cars. Just getting over that potential for danger requires a different type of brain chemistry.

I will “wait and see,” as Rob suggests, but but I’m waiting to see if it really is a level playing field for men and women. My belief at this moment is that it is not, but I’d be absolutely thrilled if Miss Myers could prove me wrong.

Who I guess are also referred to as “motorcycle mamas.” Because I ride, does that make me a “mama” too? The whole thing just conjures up that ugly stereotype of a big dyke on a big bike. I apologize to my lady friends who love the ladies, and you know I support each and every one of you, but you also know how deeply pleasurable it is to me to encounter people in life who destroy stereotypes. Each time I see one forcefully upheld and on display by the media it just makes me cringe.

Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m still thrilled that The Today Show, long one of my favorite pleasures in life, shone a small light on women who ride. It’s no easy thing.

Thanks to Krystyna Kubran for posting this video to her Facebook!

Meet the Motorcycle Mamas

A cute little birdie encouraged me to race AMA SuperSport at Laguna this next weekend. A little birdie I race against, who usually beats me, but who I almost got at the line last weekend. I’m touched by her encouragement, because listening to how Randolph and the other Formula Pacific guys tend to interact with their competition, it’s probably not standard practice for a motorcycle racer to invite your competition to come racing with you.

Anyway, what’s really exciting is that there’re five chicks signed up for next weekend’s AMA event: Melissa Paris in Daytona Sportbike, and then Elena Myers, Joy Higa, Shelina Moreda and Zoe Rem in AMA SuperSport. I could do well at the race because I’ve ridden Laguna and contemplated its lines quite a bit, thanks to my experiences teaching with the Skip Barber Superbike School, and I’ve done well against most of those girls.

But, it’s, what, four days from the event? I’ve never ridden on Dunlops, particularly not the slippery spec tire that everyone who ventures into the AMA world complains about. And, I have no track time between now and then to try them out.

I’d also have to make some changes to my bike and pay a lot of money.

Next year, ladies. For now, good luck to all of you! Y’all are my heroes!

The week after a race weekend, my Facebook and the Bay Area Riders Forum start to bloom with race reports. With the exception of one or two talented writers, they’re generally pretty dull, like the enthusiastic telling of a dream that the dreamer alone finds fascinating. They usually go like this: we came in and set up. We made these changes to the bike. I crashed in Saturday practice but my awesome pit crew helped me get the bike back together over late night drinks and camaraderie. On Sunday I diced with Ricky Bobby and I got him at the line and we yukked about it after the race. In my next race I got a bad start but then I picked off six guys by the end. Racing is awesome, my sponsors are awesome, people coming together is awesome and it’s why we love our sport, yada yada yada.

Yawn.

I want to know the real shit. I can really only tell the real shit; my capacity for small talk is nil. So I sometimes daydream about sharing my real race report with my little dysfunctional racing community. It would be the only interesting way of going about a race report, because for how boring an average man’s race report is, mine would be even worse, because I don’t make dramatic mechanical changes to my bike throughout the course of a weekend. That, and I process the events in what I feel would be perceived in very girlie ways. I’d probably be mocked. Not that I care.

I was excited for AFM Round 5 at Thunderhill because it would be my first race weekend pitting separately from James. Over the course of the last three years, James has managed to take a hobby that fills me with immensely empowering feelings, a sport that brings me joy, an endeavor fuel-injected with happiness, and turn it into a dreadful, high pressure, anxiety-ridden affair. Fantasies I had long ago of him sweetly showing me how to bleed my brakes or raise the front end never transpired. I thought race weekends would be like Janet Jackson style escapades filled with twenty questions on road trips and high fives and spraying each other with champagne. Naïveté. I has it.

Instead, from the start he’s been resentful of the time I’ve taken away from his racing program, which to him, is like a job that he says makes him money. My first year racing, he put me in the awkward position of making me feel guilty for distracting him from his much more important racing activities, yet not allowing me to be helped by any other men, even if I hired them. These deeper motivations didn’t surface until several years later, but popped off from day one like flashbulbs in my face in the form of criticism, bossiness, belittlement, and impatience. Fortunately, the core issue of whether or not I was racing was not up for discussion.

I put up with it because outside of motorcycles, he was sweeter than any man I’ve ever known. Sweeter than honey dripping off a tiny kitten wearing a tiny hat eating a tiny ice cream cone. Loyal and so in love with me, he seemed bedazzled by my every little quirk. Coming off relationships with a couple of distant, detached, commitment-phobic sex addicts, being with James was like crawling into a bed at the W, soft, inviting and cozy warm. He does also keep a surly eye on my racing program, making sure I don’t don’t do anything stupid mechanically, getting me set up with the right tools, and giving suggestions on which general direction to go in with my race bikes. He cares, and I know it.

Three years out from our first date, and in my third year of racing with AFM and WERA, I’m a semi-accomplished regional girl racer. I’ve ridden a few laps at Thunderhill in under two minutes, something only three, maybe four women I’m aware of have ever done. I’ve won girl races and beaten lots of boys too. I’ve hired James a few times over the years to help me improve my riding, and it’s helped a lot.

Friday, July 9, 2010, I drove up to Willows in my Toyota Tundra. I had my race bike, most of my racing gear, and a huge black canopy to be used to save a spot for James. He has a favorite spot in the paddock and I promised I’d save it for him. I arrived in the midst of a car track day, and they weren’t letting any motorcycle racers in to set up their pits, so I waited in the 100 degree heat until 5 pm when the mad land grab would commence. By six thirty I had his massive canopy (which is really mine, the “youngest child” in me has to mention that) set up, had my pit arranged, and had even changed my front tire so I could practice on the gritty Thunderhill track surface with a more durable tire than I’d previously had on.

It was nice hanging out at the track by myself and not being on someone else’s schedule. I drank a beer with the Pirelli tire boys and contemplated my life. I didn’t have dinner plans with anyone, and I didn’t want to invite myself to any, so I ordered a pizza from Round Table, took it to the Holiday Inn Express, watched Training Day, and eventually went to sleep.

James and Gene, his mechanic, got in around 10 but I was out again not five minutes from when they walked through the door.

When I arrived at my spot Saturday morning, I saw that some friendly faces were pitted next to me. AMA SuperSport racer Robert Tinagero, and then Brian Zapalski and Tucker Swanson who were helping him out. Nikki got there at 7:30; she’s a track day enthusiast who I think must have some racing motivations, because she’s handy with a toolbox and can turn a lap faster than half the girls who race Formula AFemme. I asked her a few months ago if she might help me out someday at the track and she seemed excited to. I was a little awkward about it, because I’m not used to having someone dedicated to actually helping me. In my nearly three years of racing, it’s been rare that I’ve had anyone help me put my bike on the stand, take my tire warmers off and on, get my grid spots for me, I’ve done it all myself.

My first practice started around 8:45 and I felt pretty slow and wobbly. There was no lap timer beacon set up, so I wasn’t able to get a read on how fast I was going, but I checked the posted lap times after the session and saw that I’d done a low 2:02. Amazing! I felt like I was tootling around and warming up, and that’s actually a bit of an average race pace for me. I was encouraged and went back to my pit to share the good news with Nikki.

My times got a little faster throughout the day, and then over lunch my pretty mechanic and I changed my front and rear tires to new ones. I was cool and comfortable in one of my tennis dresses, which I’d recently decided would be the perfect thing to wear at the track in the summer heat because I can just throw them on over a sports bra, they’re pretty, and they look good with sneakers or flip flops.

I thought I was going to get another session of practice in after lunch, but then I heard the first call for Race #1, Clubman Middleweight (a novice race for middleweight bikes like R6s and GSXR 600s). I was in race #2, so I quickly changed back into my leathers and got my game face on.

Dorky picture of me on the starting line of Formula AFemme:

Like always, all I wanted to do was get a good start, keep up with Joy, and keep Zoe behind me. Oh, and maybe get a lap time under two minutes, something I’d never done before.

My start was mediocre, but Jenn Lauritzen rocketed ahead of me as did Joy Higa. I had to deal quickly with Jenn to make sure that Joy didn’t get too far ahead of me, and then I bit in and hung on to Joy like a hungry dog.

Joy works in health care I think and she’s around the same age as me. She has beautiful long, thick Asian hair and is cute and giggly, and she’s built like brick house. She’s immensely strong and does five races in a day – two is usually my limit. I often wonder what her co-workers think of her weekend warrior hobby, if they even know at all.

Amazingly, I kept Joy around six bike lengths ahead of me for most of the race. They put our race on the track at the same time as a novice lightweight race, so it’s not as scary or intimidating for new girl racers, but many of these novice racers are really slow. We start lapping them two or three laps in. “Lappers,” as they’re casually referred to, really change the game up, especially for me and Joy. The speed differentials between us and a lapper could be anywhere from 10-40 mph and we’re passing them within a few feet sometimes. Our willingness to pass them closely or in tight corners can determine who wins a race, and can give a slower, rude passer like me a better shot against faster, polite racers like Joy.

I was able to gain significantly on Joy because of her hesitation to pass some of the lappers, and on the last lap, like finding a golden ticket in my Wonka Bar, I saw her make a major mistake. She was about to dive into a group of lappers on the inside of the second to last corner, but then hesitated, panic braking and lifting her rear wheel in the air. She totally freaked out. Between the last two turns I was on her butt and had to roll off the throttle to keep from hitting her, and then I looked hard at the inside apex of the last turn, put my head down and dragged a knee over the curbing, then quickly started to stand the bike back up from full lean so I could get on the gas as mightily as a I dared.

Joy actually turned around and looked to see if I was behind her, and I was, but not for long. We raced down the straightaway to the checkered flag almost side by side, and when we crossed the finish line neither one of us knew who won. I suspected she had me by half a wheel.

Here we are coming down the front straight to the checkered flag. That’s chalk dust getting kicked up, not smoke, I’m not that fast, lol…

So many people were excited for me for nearly beating (or did I?) the reigning local fast girl and for putting on a good show. It was a blast to race, and I was a million miles away from the stress of me and James. He was really excited for me after AFemme, and even said, “hey, maybe it’s about time we make that thing faster,” referring to my tired old 2007 Honda CBR600RR. Joy’s 2009 R6 has a bit of juice on me I think, that, and she gets on the throttle like nobody’s business. Turned out she won, but only by .018 seconds! I also did a 1:59.2, a personal Thunderhill best.

Another highlight of the race was me and Joy splitting a loudmouthed new girl racer who loves to tell anyone who’ll listen how much Formula AFemme sucks. She was racing in Clubman Lightweight, the novice race that grids up with us. I really wanted to pass her closer than I did and give her a little scare, but I didn’t. She hates on AFemme because she believes that girls can do it just as well as guys can, and she’s been braying on and on about this for the longest time even though she herself had never raced and has no idea just how physically difficult it is. Anyway, I have my suspicions for why she really hates on AFemme and the other girl racers, but I’ll keep those to myself.

She was putt putting around turn 3, a narrow, off-camber turn, when Joy and I whizzed by her, one on each side, both of us so on a mission to beat the other that we barely even saw her atop the tiny, 27 hp Ninjette. It was awesome. But enough about her.

It was really nice for both of us, me and James, pitting separately. We visited each other from time to time throughout the day. He seemed better able to focus, and I was able to race free of negativity.

Sunday morning I had a really weird practice. I was worn out from the day before, and I only managed a 2:05. We only had one practice session then it was time for racing, but my first race wasn’t until after lunch so I donned my tennis dress and got ready for action. James had a good battle in race number two, taking second place on his under-powered KTM RC8R against Chris Siglin’s bling bling Ducati 1198R. In race 5, Open GP, James was battling with Dave Stanton’s R1 when his transmission blew up in a really fast section of track. His rear wheel locked up and both him and the bike went cartwheeling at 120 mph. No one saw him get up, but they didn’t red flag the race, which they usually would in the event of an unresponsive rider.

There were some tense, anxious moments and we didn’t know James’ condition. When I got to him he was up and hobbling into the ambulance. The medics said he was unresponsive when they got to him and that indicated a head injury and that he needed to be taken to the hospital. He may have had a broken shoulder or collarbone as well. Helicopter - he refused. Ambulance - maybe, but then he decided no. Me drive him to the hospital - yes, but then no, he wanted to drive himself so we wouldn’t argue. It was chaotic and eventually all my shit was packed up and ready to go, so my day was done - no Sunday racing for me.

Turns out he only has a separated shoulder. Without question, James is the epitome of a tough guy, a bad ass racer who breathes fire, eats other racers for breakfast and can be thrown off a bike at 120 mph and walk away unscathed. Amazing. It’s been amazing to be near that, to see his racing program in action. It’s definitely helped mine improve in certain ways, and to an extent, the obstacles he’s thrown my way have probably only made me try harder to succeed.

My next race is July 31 at Infineon, Formula AFemme, and then 750 Superbike and Production on Sunday. Hopefully I’ll have some new body work. Waldo at Epic Images is making these really cute pink and red heart stickers that I’ll decorate my black motorcycle with. I can’t wait!

Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice, but, to carry on.

AFM Round Four at Thunderhill. An average turn out for Formula AFemme. Joy, me, Zoe, Jenn, Bess, Lisa Wallace, Sara, Lisa Kinberger, and Tracy, in that run order.

I don’t usually write race reports because my love life is so intertwined with my racing efforts that I can’t separate the two, and people want to read race reports, not maudlin accounts of how Randolph and I are getting along. It’s like the oil in the gulf; they can’t pull the oil out of the water because it’s too finely intermingled. I did hear they might try lighting a match to the goopy gunk and just burn it all away, and some days, I sometimes feel like that might work for me too.

I will say, though, that I am positively thrilled with my result in the race. Sure, I would have liked to be closer to Joy, but she is just so damn fast right now it’s silly. I made it through turn one in second place, trying to hang with Joy for as long as I could, but by turn six she was very rudely leaving me in the dust to fend for myself. A short while after, that pesky Zoe passed me somewhere. She is fun to follow; her body language is so very determined. She hangs off that bike a bit like a koala bear clinging to a branch of bamboo, but, like, with the bamboo traveling at a hundred miles an hour.

She gapped me by about a half a turn and we held that distance for most of the race. I kept hoping the lappers would help an old lady out by blocking the young Miss Rem, but each group we sliced through I found myself still the same distance behind.

Until the last lap! I knew that I would be disappointed in myself if I got back to the pits knowing that I didn’t give it my all, so each turn I came to I held my throttle pinned open longer than before, waiting until I was truly scared shitless and then braking heroically (I recently told Stacy Menas that this kind of braking feels like bench pressing a hippo) into turns 9, 10, 11, and then by turn 14 I was right up on Zoe’s ass. I was actually really scared that I was going to hit her between 14 and 15, but I didn’t back off because I knew that if I did I’d lose any shot I had at beating her to the line.

So I kept my eyes up on that inside apex of 15, got on the gas as early and hard as I could, drafted her for a second and then catapulted ahead of her just in time for her to look sideways to see the cold hard truth.

This victory, oh so very minor, for a second place trophy (ahem - picture frame) in an amateur women’s motorcycle race, is so small in the context of the universe and oil spills and sick grandfathers and faltering love lives and terrible crashes and injuries, but for a very brief moment I felt that rush of adrenaline that made me feel like a superhero. It was dope, like Eugene, Randoph’s mechanic, explained to a few Granzellas patrons Sunday night as we were having dinner.

I’m quite sure I’ll be on the negative end of such a race someday, and I’ll fully expect my girl rivals to gloat and be happy and I’ll be happy for them too. Because, like always, I’m their biggest fan and they inspire me every day. Although I don’t have as much time to share their victories as I’d like, so for now, it’s just going to be me and the occasional #958 race report.

Later bitches…love you all.

xoxo
Christie

Since I last posted…

I started a new business, Process Serving Aces. It’s got me running around like a one legged chick in an ass kicking contest, to steal a phrase from my friend Bob Stack, a process server up in Lake County. He’s grizzly, got a smoker’s voice and has funny random sayings for just about everything.

I got engaged. I’m getting married in August of this year.

My fiance went back to work in January, and asked me to run his side business, Fast Aid & Safety. The website needs work. It’s one of my many projects so don’t give me any crap about it.

I’m still working with my online marketing clients, now under the umbrella of MyAdStrategy.com. This by far is the most lucrative gig, but the process serving is a blast and I don’t want to let the first aid biz go either. So, I’ve pretty much created my own problem now, haven’t it?

I also got a “big girl” bike. A 2007 Honda CBR600RR. It’s a little faster than my SV, but man, it’s been tough getting to my SV race times on it!

So what’s going on in chick racing this year? A lot!

• Elena Myers turned 16 in December I think and is now a full fledged professional motorcycle racer, racing with the national Daytona Supersport series.
• Melissa Paris is going to rock an Iron Man II custom helmet and ensemble at Road Atlanta this weekend.
• Marisol Lacour, I think she’s 15 or 16, dropped into the 1:28s on her Suzuki SV650 at Las Vegas Motor Speedway this month. That is MOVIN’!
• Joy Higa dipped into the 1:55s at Buttonwillow last month…oooooooh. Top ten finishes in several of her “co ed” classes and won the AFM’s Formula AFemme. I thought my 58s would have ensured I’d be competitive with her, but like always happens, you go faster, and the fast girls go faster too!
• I’m leading the women’s championship with WERA West, with two wins and one second place finish, but I’m wondering if Joy (who is faster than I am) is not going to race any more WERA events. She had a horrific crash just up track from me going into turn 1 at Auto Club Speedway in Fontana. She was left pretty much intact, but her bike was in pieces. She’s still racing AFM but I don’t know what her WERA plans are. Although I’d love to have a better shot at winning WERA’s Women’s Superstock, I want the women’s grids to be as big as they can be! Plus I love the thought of chasing her and maybe being able to keep her in my sights.
• Three new girls joined the AFemme ranks at Buttonwillow: Tracy Bowen, Bess Keigwin and Lisa Wallace! Welcome and YAY!

Please correct me if I’ve missed anything…and I’m sorry for being so busy. If anyone wants to send me reports or blogs or notes or pictures or anything to include, please do and I will post it up!

Love,
Christie

Congratulations to Melissa Appel for taking the win at Barber today! Wyeth Jackson followed in second, with polesitter Melissa Berkoff on an SV650 in third. Congratulations to all!

Women’s Supersport:
1. Melissa Appel (Hon CBR600RR), 12 laps
2. Wyeth Jackson (Kaw ZX-6R), -8.261 seconds
3. Melissa Berkoff (Suz SV650), -9.598
4. Suzy Moody (Kaw ZX-6R), -28.148
5. Meghan Stiles (Yam YZF-R6), -28.449
6. Karen Coleman (Suz GSX-R600), -1 lap
7. Sasha Taranto (Yam YZF-R6), -1 lap
8. Rhonda Gray (Kaw ZX-6R), -1 lap
9. Kimberly Prichard (Yam YZF-R6), -1 lap
10. Anita Thomas (Hon CBR600RR), -1 lap
11. Teri Gorrell (Kaw ZX-6R), -1 lap
12. Sheila Paul (Yam YZF-R6), -2 laps

Not to take away from how awesome it is that there is a national women’s championship thanks to Michelin and Femmoto, but I have to say I am very proud of our west coast gals for putting out a grid of thirteen women roadracers last month at Infineon Raceway. And it would have been fourteen, had Krystyna Kubran’s bike been working, or even fifteen, if Jennifer Lauritzen hadn’t hurt her shoulder, or sixteen, if Svetlana Gorina raced with us, or seventeen, if Deb Barton hadn’t highsided earlier and didn’t have a Formula III championship to go win! SO HUGE LADIES AND I’M SO THRILLED TO KNOW AND RACE WITH ALL Y’ALL!

Thirteen women on the AFM AFemme grid at Sonoma’s Infineon Raceway. Bad ass. Deb Barton, who has joined us on several occasions, really needed to focus on winning the Formula III AFM championship, which she did. Mega congratulations for her! Joy Higa won the inaugural AFemme season championship, but some of us hope to give her some more competition next year! We were sorely missing Jennifer Lauritzen, who was cheering us on with a healing shoulder, and Krystyna Kubran, whose bike decided it didn’t want to go racing, and Cassandra Gaddy, who really needs a race bike, and Angie Loy, who despite tremendous talent and love for her fellow girl racers didn’t make it out, and Elena Myers, who is so fast she doesn’t need to bother with chick races and isn’t even old enough to race at Infineon anyway, and Melissa Paris, who has raced a few Femmoto and WERA women’s races but is recovering from a broken leg, and Svetlana Gorina, who told me she would race with us but then didn’t (insert big sad face here), and all the other girls that Jenny and Crystal and Britt tried to get down here… We could have had well over twenty chicks out there…un-freaking-believable. I’m so stoked and proud of all you girls…simply getting out there is an accomplishment in and of itself, and to see everyone continually growing and improving is just so exciting.

On The Throttle TV and Vision Wells were in the house to film our race from every angle, complete with interviews and whatnot. I can’t wait to see the footage. Stay tuned for updates, links, and so on as I post them up…I am really busy these days with some new business dealings, so don’t expect any award-winning prose…lol.

Love to you all!

Christie

I read on RoadracingWorld.com that racer Meghan Stiles, who’s made an appearance at an AMA event or two, is going to be racing as a team with her dad and her fiance at the Moto-GT1 class at Heartland Park Topeka on August 1st. Bad ass!

Did a little research…Meghan’s 24 and raced in USGPRU for 11 years before switching to 600s. I’ve seen her name pop up in a few of the Femmoto events this year too. Go Meghan! Oh and apparently she’s a big Rossi fan…lol.

I’m always intrigued when it’s said, “slow down to go faster.” In June, at a muggy, cloudy Thunderhill, I was trying very hard to go fast on my little piggy. I was braking later and later, trying to get off the brakes sooner and sooner, and getting on the gas harder, and the results were disappointing to say the least; I was edging into the 2:05s, barely a half second better than my previous best times.

I wore myself out on Friday. Friday night my quads, triceps and pecs were on fire. Saturday morning I was out first in every session, and was the last to come in. I knew if I just worked harder, I’d go faster. I’d better go fast, because I was so nervous about passing people. My friend Zoe had just raced in Portland a week ago, lost the front after making a pass, and got run over by another motorcycle. Miraculously, she was out racing this weekend too, albeit with some bumps and bruises. I was also still holding myself back thinking about poor Eric Arnold, a popular track day instructor who had fallen on the starting grid, been run over a few times and is now paralyzed from the waist down (however, there is hope for recovery, as you may read).

Saturday afternoon’s Formula AFemme race came around and I was hoping to have some good battles with Jenn and Zoe, and maybe even beat a 600 or two. Nah, I was hoping for more than that. I wanted to finish ahead of my SV girls and a 600 or two. I don’t remember much about the race aside from watching Jenn attempting to pass Shelina’s ZX6-R several times, and then towards the end, a newly en fuego Kristy Miller and her GSXR600 came storming through. I was second to last. Basically last, as Lisa’s comparatively underpowered Ninja 250 just can’t hang with the bigger bikes. I felt powerless to make any passes on anyone.

Miserable. Bleh. And I felt like crap, so tired, sore, and disappointed in myself.

I had zero energy, mental or physical, left over, and was feeling pretty adamant that I didn’t want to race on Sunday. I felt scared, I just wasn’t into it. So I was a good little pit crew member for James and did everything I could to support him in his racing. It was fun watching the races, and Jenn and Zoe did really well and I was happy for them. I wasn’t really bummed to not be out there until my energy came back, oh, on Tuesday or so. Then I was like, “dammit! Why didn’t I just race?!?!”

I decided to hire my boyfriend, James, to work with me at a track day a week later. Huddled up after a few sessions inside our air-conditioned, but otherwise piece-of-shit trailer, I sensed (I’m being politically correct here, I really believe that he flat out said it) that he was telling me that I wasn’t a natural at this and I was going to have to work very, very hard to be good at it. I was enraged. I don’t think many women can go from zero motorcycling experience to racing mid-pack in the super competitive AFM 650 Twins class the way that I have. I may not have been popped out of the womb being awesome like James, but I’m pretty good.

I probably have too much ego to ever be truly great at sports. But anyway, I cried and cried in my dirty, ugly trailer and then went out for another session without him to just ride around and shake it off. Against his instructions, I used a lap timer and pulled a 2:04, something I’d never done before. I felt better. James had apologized and consoled me, and also given me some really great tips for improving my riding and finding the best lines around the track, and by the end of the day I felt, um, not terrible.

A few weeks later I spent a week involved in a motorcycling related endeavor. I can’t say a whole lot about it, except that being there was not beneficial to my self-confidence, at least not at first. I came away from it feeling like a crappy racer, a crappy person and like I’d never be good at anything, ever. It wasn’t fun and I don’t really plan on going back.

During the four hour drive home from this thing, just a day before packing up and leaving for the next Thunderhill round, I was crying a lot until I started to get angry. How could I let this person make me feel this way? How could I let anyone control my feelings about my self worth like this? How could anyone underestimate my abilities and not recognize the value I can add? I was pissed. And when I get pissed, I start to rock. Being pissed fueled the first few years of my racing hobby, but I’m past that, so having a new fire in my belly was just what I needed.

I came home with a new determination and energy, not just to succeed in racing, but to make more out of my professional life as well. I had planned to not make the same mistake I did in June; I would only ride two out of the three days, Saturday and Sunday, but when this important workshop came up on Saturday, I decided I had to miss out on Formula AFemme, practice Friday and race on Sunday.

“This person” (NOT James, James is incredibly supportive of me, if only a little blunt sometimes) is a perfectionist, and I rode in Friday practice like he was behind me, critiquing my every move. I rode my lines as perfectly as I could ride them. I positioned my body like I was Ben Spies rocking World Superbike. I swallowed my fears and made passes when appropriate, and they stuck like krazy glue. Over time, the passing became less scary and I was pleased. I looked down at my tach on the approach to turn 7 and spied a 2:03.5 on my lap timer. I screamed like a little girl at a Justin Timberlake concert and then screamed again. I turned some more 2:03s. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

“Don’t get too excited, you still have to do that in the race,” said James. I knew he was right, but I didn’t care. I felt improvement and I felt faster without trying hard at it, just by striving for perfection in my lines and body positioning. I ended the Friday practice day feeling very good about life. I was sad that Jenn had destroyed her bike and was hoping she’d be healthy enough to race again next month, but on the personal front life was groovy.

Saturday I was gone. I was dying to know what happened in AFemme and put in calls to Zoe, Joy and Shelina. I was sad to not have been there.

I came out with another 2:03 in our only round of Sunday morning practice. Again, not hard. 650 Twins was race #1, and Formula IV was race #6. I was pleased that they were both before James’s race, Formula Pacific, which is always the 8th race of the day. All I wanted to do was just exactly what I’d been doing on Friday. A good start, perfect lines, perfect body positioning, and passing when appropriate. I really didn’t overtly care too much about the results or the lap times.

Off the start, I found myself up in a pack that I was sure would soon leave me, but I hung with them. Guys like Mike Adrian, Spencer Smith and Brian Bartlow. Guys I’ve always thought were much faster than me. I raced around with them and it didn’t feel like hard work at all. I made a pass on Mike Adrian, although he got me back before the end of the race (a red-mist fueled pass, he said, heh heh). At one point I saw a 2:01 on my lap timer and couldn’t believe it. I was high on life and finished the race, super pumped up and feeling victorious. Really, really couldn’t believe it.

Amazingly I did even better in the second race and finished ahead of some fast dudes. Even more amazingly, it seems like everyone went faster this round, so even though my laptimes might have put me in the top ten last month, this month it was only good enough for 17th place in both races. Ah well. I was still feeling so good about it all I didn’t care. As long as I keep doing what I am supposed to do, and take it one lap at a time, one corner at a time, the results should come.

What’s ironic is that I may not even be able to make the races next month. My tennis team might be in heavy duty playoffs in Folsom, and our team has a good shot at going to a national championship for adult recreational teams. The girls on my team are really into it and counting on me and I’d hate to let them down. I might be able to race AND play tennis depending on the timing of it all…that would be an adventure!

First we’ll start off with Formula AFemme, the AFM’s recently created racing series for all women. It’s funny, Evelyne Clark, the grande dame of WERA, was talking about the WERA Women’s C Superstock class: “some races have no entries, others 1 or 2, then we have those few who have 5 or more…”

Well, AFemme had only six racers this month and it felt like a huge disappointment after rounds with 9, 10 and 11 entries. Deb Barton had to keep things running at her San Francisco motorcycle shop, Scuderia West, Lisa Mazurkiewicz didn’t race her 250 (I don’t blame her, she is the only 250 that had been racing AFemme and thus there probably aren’t any other racers to play with), Jennifer Lauritzen had an unfortunate incident involving a USGPRU kid who ran out of gas on track during Friday practice and annihilated her bike and her shoulder, and I had an important workshop in Martinez I needed to attend to help out my career so I can afford to keep racing.

So six chicks. Still pretty damn good in the grand scheme of things:

1 25 Expert HIGA, J. 2:00.652
2 636 Expert MILLER, KRISTY 02:01.764
3 493 Novice MOREDA, SHELINA 02:03.582
4 925 Expert REM, ZOE 02:05.381
5 881 Novice MENAS, STACY 02:09.535
6 41 Expert REILLY, KATHY 02:13.937

A big welcome to Stacy Menas, who I didn’t get to talk to all weekend, for coming out for her first roadrace. An experienced drag racer, she got a legendary start (which I didn’t get to see) in both AFemme and her Clubman (a race for brand-spankin’ new racers) races. I was delighted that Kathy Reilly also raced, she raced years ago and did quite well and was riding a friend’s borrowed SV650. Kristy Miller’s times are also starting to come down…I think she’s gunning for you, Joy! Congratulations all around, ladies!

As for how the girls did in the other races…

Joy Higa, Expert, Yamaha YZF-R6

Formula I, 12th of 33 finishers, 1:56:610
600 Superbike, 13th of 25 finishers, 1:57:331
750 Superbike, 17th of 23 finishers, 1:58:710
600 Production, 11th of 26 finishers, 1:58:528
750 Production, 12th of 21 finishers, 1:58:786

Shelina Moreda, Novice, Kawasaki ZX6-R

600 Superbike, 25th of 25 finishers, 2:05:830
Clubman Middleweight, 5th of 11 finishers, 2:03:930
600 Production, 22nd of 26 finishers, 2:03:648

Zoe Rem, Expert, Suzuki SV650

Formula IV, 29th of 31 finishers, 2:05:997
650 Twins, 25th of 30 finishers, 2:04:317

Lisa Mazurkiewicz, Expert, Kawasaki Ninja 250

250 Superbike, 3rd of 4 finishers, 2:18:846

Christie Cooley, Expert, Suzuki SV650

Formula IV, 17th of 31 finishers, 2:01.979
650 Twins, 17th of 30 finishers, 2:01.504

Svetlana Gorina, Novice, GSXR-750

Open Superbike, 18th of 19 finishers, 2:04.112
Formula 40 Heavyweight, 17th of 24 finishers, 2:03:103

Gwyn Lewis, Expert, Honda RS125

Formula III, 16th of 16 finishers, 2:10:646
Formula II, 9th of 9 finishers, 2:10:319

A lovely race report from the talented Mrs. Lauritzen, who had a triumphant weekend after feeling disappointed in previous rounds. Congratulations Jenn!

AFM Round 4 @ Thunderhill Raceway 2009

So I haven’t had time yet to do a write-up of all the fantastic racing that went on, but I will say that Joy Higa hit the 56’s for the first time which is an incredible achievement. Her finishes were all solidly in the top 15 of the most competitive race club in the country’s most competitive racing classes. Jennifer Lauritzen also made huge strides on her SV650, garnering her highest finishes ever and some new low laptimes in the 2:04’s, which on an SV is MOVIN’!

Zoe was her usual fast, aggressive self and had some pouty boys protesting her on Sunday for close passing. I haven’t seen anything from her that is all that different from a somewhat aggressive guy rider, so my theory is that because she simply sticks out with the pink “zoe” on the back of her leathers, she’s a more obvious target! I envy her ability to just boldly tuck herself into tight spaces, and it was especially sad this weekend with how much of a wuss I was with my own passing. I think I was just so mentally and physically exhausted from riding hard all day Friday that by Saturday afternoon I didn’t have much left. Lesson learned!

Kristy Miller is also getting her groove back – although instead of having a lascivious affair with a hottie in Jamaica, she’s been having some fun in Hawaii and it’s clearly helped her riding! Shelina Moreda worked through some struggles with lines earlier in the weekend to come up with a holeshot and strong finish in AFemme and some new low laptimes herself.

The results:

1st, Joy Higa, 01:59.878
2nd, Zoe Rem, 02:04.928
3rd, Shelina Moreda, 02:05.734
4th, Kristy Miller, 02:05.987
5th, Jennifer Lauritzen, 02:05.998
6th, Christie Cooley, 02:06.272
7th, Shandra Crawford, 02:18.513
8th, Lisa Mazurkiewicz, 02:23.040

Aside from her 56’s, Joy Higa’s new wrap on her bike was all anyone talked about this weekend though. Check out the way it reflects the sun. Simply amazing!

WERA National – Miller Motorsports Park

What a weekend!!! It was all made possible by my friend Jeff Havlik who allowed me to car pool with him to Miller. Sure, my old truck would likely have made it…. But I sure would’ve been beat to crap – and broke! Thanks again Havlik!!!

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This was apparently announced just a week or two ago: AMA Pro racing introduces Women’s Motocross Championship

They mention 18 year old Ashley Fiolek, the “first full factory rider in American motocross history when she was signed to a contract with Honda Red Bull Racing.”

Makes me wonder if an AMA national women’s roadracing championship will ever come about. And how it could be successful. Personally, and at no surprise to anyone I’m sure, I think it would be awesome. I’d bet there are twenty to thirty female racers in the U.S. who would do a fine job populating such a series.

I’m not saying I think this is awesome, or terrible, just that it seems like a “thing.” It seems as though the more commercially successful womens’ sports give women the opportunity to look pretty. Tennis, The NCAA Women’s Softball World Series on ESPN, with their pretty braids and bows, beach volleyball…have to say it’s pretty tough to show off a sexy bod when you’re clad in ten pounds of colorful leather and a full face helmet. I guess a part of me feels it’s unfortunate, and related to my occasional general frustration that I can’t just move through life unnoticed (men and women notice and evaluate women based on their physical appearance, usually without even realizing it), but another part of me accepts it as the way things are and looks for ways to work within the system.

Blah blah blah. Anyhoo. I still think a women’s pro roadracing series would KICK ASS! So it’s not as obvious in motorcycle racing as it is in, say, football, that men are naturally more equipped with the physicality and aggression necessary to be world champion racers, but it is and will likely always remain that I do not believe that we are on an equal playing field. Playing against other women isn’t just more fun for me, it’s more legit. I feel it’s fair. I don’t feel a sense of unfairness being on the grid with men, shit, I have no other options and I love racing so much because it’s fun and when the face shield is down, it’s just you against other racers. But when I step back and think about it…about the aggression and boldness it takes to sneak yourself in between a racer and a curb as you’re both leaning in towards the apex…the physical strength and timing it requires to flick a bike from one side to another at speed…I just find it more fun and satisfying to compete against my fellow ladies.

There will always be female athletes that are so exceptional that they can best many of the opposite gender. I’d certainly consider myself to be more bold and aggressive than a man who’s been club racing for several years but hasn’t quite figured his way forward through the pack yet. But do I have the built-in chops to compete equally with a Ben Spies, a Kenan Sofuoglu, or a Mladin? Forget about the years spent training and developing skills, I’m just talking natural, born-in equipment, in the brain and in the bod.

Again, don’t get me wrong. I love racing, against men, against women, and I don’t have a chip on my shoulder or am looking for excuses. I am still just as driven as ever to crack the top ten of my competitive AFM 650 Twins class. But having raced a couple women’s races now, it’s freaking rad. It’s amazing. I can’t explain it. I day dream about a women’s pro roadracing series. This new AMA Pro Women’s Motocross Championship just makes me think it might happen even sooner than I thought.

So I’m in the passenger seat of the E150 driving back from World Superbike weekend at Miller Motorsports Park. Few people likely knew that there were two women both attempting to qualify for World Supersport; Canadian racer Marie Josee Boucher and Melissa Paris.

“MJ” Boucher was pitted next to the garage me and James were unloading the van into on Thursday, but SBK moved her in to a garage near Melissa and the other World Supersport privateers. I was glad when her mechanic told me she had an ’09 Honda CBR1000RR, because the ’06 I was looking at looked like bringing a knife to a gun fight.

Both Melissa and MJ’s laptimes on Friday were down near the bottom of the list; they weren’t dead last, there were one or two behind MJ, and maybe five or six behind Missy. They were both hovering right around the 107% qualifying time. During Saturday’s qualifying, Missy made the cut, along with Chip Yates and Oleg Piankh, and MJ was just tenths of a second off. I was really hoping that both of them would make it to the show.

In Saturday’s GTU (600cc bikes) race, Elena Myers placed 14th against some of the nation’s top club racers and some AMA regulars, and then 16th on Sunday in the GTU (1000cc bikes) race. Way to go! I love the quiet intensity about Elena…and that she wears eye make-up and nail polish too.

When the World Supersport race came around, James and I were packing up the van and I dragged him over to the grandstands to go watch. It looked like Melissa had two, maybe three racers behind her, and I wondered if she had recognized that she was back in that place where you’re measuring your results based on how many boys you put behind you, rather than how many away from the front you are. I know that when I started racing my SV in the AFM, I just wanted to put more racers behind me at the finish and it was usually only a handful. I’m glad I’m closer to the front now!

I was so bummed when I saw her hesitantly put her little hand up as she puttered down the straightaway six or seven laps in. I don’t know what happened, some sort of mechanical obviously, but I know that her Facebook status message says “Melissa Paris is absolutely gutted.” I know it must be disappointing to not have achieved your goals, but jeez louise, can’t you take some satisfaction at having been the first woman to qualify for a World Supersport race? That’s history, and not all of us girl racers will ever get there. So PBAC says be happy, Mrs. Hayes.

As we crossed the line into Utah, I said to James, “I can’t believe people bitch about this drive. I mean, I’m not having a bad time, are you?” James shook his head. “That’s ‘cause they’re bitches,” he said. I laughed.

So we’re almost to Miller, short for Miller Motorsports Park, a mecca of motorsports near Salt Lake City. The track is big, wide and beautiful, with a lovely flow, and they’re holding World Superbike here this weekend where all eyes will be on Ben Spies, America’s latest great roadracing hope. I’ll also be keeping an eye on Melissa Paris and Marie Josee Boucher, who might be the first two women to ever race in World Supersport.

But what we’re really here for is to make some money. James is entered in the big-purse Larry H. Miller Superbike Challenge, and I’m stoked to be his mechanic again. I even have an official Team Suzuki collared shirt, which I was so excited about that I had to buy some cute new sneakers and jean shorts to wear it with.

It’ll be a great weekend, win or lose.

Also on my mind today is Sutton Helvey-Chandler, the racer who was killed six days ago at Barber while practicing for the weekend’s WERA race. She collided with a cornerworker who was on the track, supposedly to remove a dead bird, and they were both killed. She was a wife, mother and an HR professional. So tragic, and it hits home so much more because, well, we were even the same age and it could have been me.

Of course, once your leathers are zipped up and the face shield is down, and you stretch left and stretch right as you head out from your pit to the track, these thoughts are long gone. They have to be. It’s when you’re back from the race weekend and faced with unopened mail and hungry cats that a little part of you wonders why on earth a girl like you feels compelled to do this.

And yet I do.

I think about the risks. Isn’t it crazy not to? I feel very at peace with multiple scenarios. I love my life and want to continue living it, and would feel sad to inflict pain on those who love me, but I have to say I wouldn’t be devastated if my life ended. How could I be? It would just be a dark, fast, silent close to a fantastic life lived.

And not to trivialize paralysis, but I don’t fear it. I’m at a time in my life when I’m enjoying to the fullest those things I can do with an able body; there are a hundred thousand things I’d love to do and see and learn about and experience that don’t require legs. Shit, there’s even wheelchair tennis tournaments. Full body paralysis would be tough…I might have to pull a Million Dollar Baby in that scenario, but hey, Christopher Reeve was strong enough to fight through it.

I think that James thinks I’m a bit weak for thinking things like this through. He just puts it all out of his mind, puts his head down, and races. But he’s a racer, and I’m just a girl learning how to race. Maybe someday I’ll be a racer, but I hope that doesn’t mean I lose my penchant for deep contemplation.

I hope that everyone has a safe weekend. One of our AFM SV girls, Zoe Rem, will be racing at Portland this weekend which is cool because I don’t think there are even any girls, let alone fast girls, up that way until you get to Canada. I love all my racer girls… It takes a lot for women who haven’t grown up with it to get up and go racing. You all continually inspire and challenge me. Kick ass and stay safe.

xoxo
Christie

Thanks to Joe, from 4theriders.com!

Joy Higa with the holeshot into turn 2, Zoe Rem on the left, Christie Cooley on the right.

Kristy Miller, shoulder probably out of its socket in this picture. Madwoman!

Deb Barton climbing up the hill, Lisa Mazurkiewicz in tow.

Shelina Moreda & Deb Barton.

Not my favorite picture in the world. Although I’d get Zoe in this race, she’d get me back in both of the “co-ed” races the next day.

Cassandra Gaddy, Zoe Rem, Jennifer Lauritzen, Kristy Miller.

Congratulations to Kristi Martel and Krystyna Kubran who rode the WERA six hour endurance race together! Not only does it look like you girls had a blast, especially with your matching outfits, but your team won third place! Holy crap, that’s awesome! Someone please blog back to me about how the afternoon went…I heard it rained a lot there this past weekend!

I really can’t explain why I love this women’s race so much, but I do. I love that we’re all out there on the track at the same time, all battling each other; it’s simply awesome. I love that there are so many of us, whereas other women’s races happening around the country are sparsely attended. I love the supportive environment; not only are we supportive of our fellow girl racers, the community at large seems quite interested in the class and enjoys watching it. I sincerely hope that the AFM Board of Directors will vote to continue the class throughout the rest of the season.

This past weekend’s women’s race featured some good battles. Woman vs. woman, woman vs. self, woman vs. ground. Joy Higa and Deb Barton had a good race with each other, and from what Deb told me, she felt comfortably in the lead until she had a near highside coming out of turn 9 and decided to dial it back a notch, and that’s when Joy Higa, hot on her little RS125’s tail, made her move.

Kristy Miller, fast girl and all around bad ass, apparently had a tank slapper towards the end of the race that threw her shoulder out of its socket. This is all second hand information and I’m waiting to get the story from the woman herself, but apparently she wriggled it back into place and kept going, and it somehow came out again. “All she wanted to do was finish the race and get a prize, so she rode out the rest of her laps one handed,” said my source, with that “holy crap, what a bad ass” look on his face. Very impressive! Great job Kristy!

I made a shameful, shameful racing mistake on the first or second lap. I saw a wheel coming up on my inside going into turn 4, and Deb Barton, who’s several seconds faster than I am, hadn’t gotten by me yet. I left the door open and saw Shelina Moreda’s shiny blue Kawi sneak by. ARGH! God, I was so pissed at myself! Never, EVER, leave the door open for anyone, EVER! But I wasn’t that pissed, because I hadn’t seen anything faster than a 2:01 from Shelina in practice, so I didn’t feel that passing her back would be a problem.

Well, it was a big fucking problem! Shelina woke up that afternoon and decided that she was there to race, and I was working my ass off to close the gap. I just couldn’t believe it. It didn’t compute. Lesson number two learned: never underestimate your competition. You’d think I’d have learned that lesson already with years of competitive tennis under my belt, but mental toughness in sport is a constant, frustrating, and rewarding battle.

I couldn’t quite believe that I’d managed to stay ahead of Zoe Rem, Jennifer Lauritzen, Cassandra Gaddy, and Kristy, and quick glances behind me showed that as long as I kept up a good pace, they’d have their work cut out for them catching me. But that still left Shelina, who I figured was in third place with me in fourth towards the end of the race. I edged closer and closer, but so infuriatingly slowly. By the white flag I felt hopeful I’d be able to make a move before the checkered.

Let me preface this next paragraph by saying I had just been talking with Deb Barton about how I’d never experienced a lowside, and felt that I had much to gain by pushing the limits of traction of my front tire by braking deeper and deeper up towards my apex. I talked about it with curiosity; I wondered almost pleasantly what sliding along the ground felt like, having seen dozens of videos of racers gliding along pavement and then somehow ending up on their feet.

So when my front tucked before the apex at the top of turn 7, it did so very decisively and with seemingly little warning. Poof. It was just gone. Gone, daddy, gone. And gliding along the pavement? Nope. Somehow I was rolling, hearing my beautiful Arai helmet knocking and bumping along the ground, and seeing the much talked about phenomenon of sky, ground, sky, ground. And my butt hurt. Like someone took a chair out from underneath me that I was about to sit on.

I looked over at my sliding bike and saw sparks coming from it. “This can’t be happening,” I thought. I got up and watched the field go by, then joined them for the cool down lap. Boo.

So, ladies and gents, I give you the semi-official results:

1. Joy Higa, 01:51.3, Yamaha R6
2. Deb Barton, 01:50.4, Honda RS125
3. Shelina Moreda, 01:53.5 Kawasaki ZX6R
4. Zoe Rem, 01:54.578, Suzuki SV650S
5. Jennifer Lauritzen, 01:54.5, Suzuki SV650S
6. Cassandra Gaddy, 01:55.085, Kawasaki 636
7. Kristy Miller, 01:55.6, Suzuki GSXR-600
8. Denise Howard, 02:07.0, some sort of older Honda I think
9. Lisa Mazurkiewicz, 02:07.409, New Kawasaki Ninja 250R

DNF, Christie Cooley, 01:53.453, Suzuki SV650S

So, some special congratulations to Shelina Moreda for riding like her panties were on fire. She looked smooth and in control, and I know from the tales of her street riding that the woman is fearless and capable, so I’m sure with a little more time she’ll be even more competitive on that sweet Kawi.

Also, Jennifer Lauritzen, myself and Zoe Rem all achieved new personal best laptimes this weekend. Woo hoo! We’ve all been having problems with our SVs, so it was nice that we were all able to go out there and haul ass for once. I was especially glad that I was able to come back from crashing on Saturday (and getting hit by another bike in practice so hard I got the wind knocked out of me – that’s a whole ‘nother story) and keep pushing myself on Sunday to my new low. I guess new tires really do help a lot, too.

And finally, a big thank you to Svetlana Gorina, a woman who was instrumental in the creation of Formula AFemme; she spent a good deal of time Saturday afternoon helping me put my bike back together after my pavement surfing. For whatever opinionated, dramatic reason, she hasn’t been racing AFemme, and I spent a lot of time last week arguing with her over email about why she should race AFemme, but in the spirit of “not words, but deeds,” my high school motto, Lana’s been great to me. I don’t understand her opinions and don’t agree with the public and confrontational way that she has been known to express them, but she really helped a sister out this weekend. Come race with us!

Hopefully I’ll have some pictures up soon.