tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-111291392008-05-15T22:35:03.725-07:00Staffnoreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1159817818822746162006-10-02T12:35:00.000-07:002006-10-02T12:36:58.846-07:00

Alongside Interstate 1-15, the night in Baker, CA. high beamed its way through the motel’s dirty windows. The motel squatted across the road from the more famous “Mad Greek’s Gyros and Date Shakes!” truck stop. You can see the Mad Greek’s eponymous road signs for miles…the shakes are worth pulling over for. The gyros not so much. The Greek’s motel even less so. Baker is an ancient travelers’

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1158111436525658982006-09-12T18:35:00.000-07:002006-09-13T11:49:52.016-07:00

Last weekend I entered the High Sierra Century, which began and ended in Mammoth Lakes, CA. I wasn’t planning on a race, but I guess my big brother, John, was. A Century, sibling rivalry, and smack talk should not be commingled. My training the last few weeks since I “owied” some ribs in the Brian Head Super-D, has been mostly on the road. So, I figured my legs would be good to go. But, I had

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1155510090255646872006-08-13T16:00:00.000-07:002006-08-13T16:06:54.990-07:00

This year at the Downieville Classic, Rachel Lloyd had a much better DH run than I…everybody had a better DH run than I. I flatted in the second turn. And, at the 1st water crossing. And, in the rock garden on Butchers, and then on First Divide. My DH run took an hour and half. By the time I got to town the sun had climbed high enough in the sky to take a direct and unobstructed aim on

Staffnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1153431641481518522006-07-20T14:38:00.000-07:002006-07-22T10:27:49.083-07:00

Over last weekend various categories of mountain bikers, professional and beginner, young and old, fat and skinny all suffered alike in the pizza oven heat at Cougar Mountain in Sears Point. The NORBA national mountain bike championships were at stake. In what many consider a great upset, Georgia Gould (Luna) rode away with the pro cross country win over the likes of Shonny Vanlandingham (Luna)

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1152551010021713132006-07-10T10:02:00.000-07:002006-07-10T11:39:42.096-07:00

My shed is an absolute mess. A few days ago, as I was getting my racing pads and helmet together for the Jeep King of the Mountain, I tripped over a dusty cardboard box. One of its corners had been chewed by what I hoped was bright eyed and bushy tailed squirrel…and not one of the beady eyed and skinny pink tailed kind. The box was thin like a pizza box, but longer, and bound with packing

Staffnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1151690630631050542006-06-30T11:02:00.000-07:002006-06-30T12:29:48.946-07:00

Getting dropped is not a science because a successful drop cannot be independently duplicated. There are no measurable results. There are no national security applications worth government funding for the development of getting dropped. No, getting dropped is an art pure and simple. All art is not good art. In fact 99% of the art world is of the dogs sitting around a table playing poker

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1150909093072664602006-06-21T09:56:00.000-07:002006-06-21T11:08:37.746-07:00

Sue Hayward is fast. So is Lea Davison. I found out by eating their dust, on multiple occasions, during the pro Super D at the Mount Snow NORBA national last weekend. The Super D is a mountain bike race that most closely resembles the typical weekend warrior race that arises naturally among riding buddies. It’s not too long, usually not more than half an hour. The super D, like your local

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1149819376821938202006-06-08T18:38:00.000-07:002006-06-11T20:32:33.896-07:00

It's all beat up. Now five years old, practically geriatric. Tarped alongside the bike shed with a flat tire and bent bars. My KTM 520 SX is just a big droopy mess, and if I lived in a red state I’d write a country/western song about it. Never thought our relationship would end up in a heap like that. In the beginning I was so taken with its slick graphics, smitten by its power band. We even

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1148859330341862252006-05-28T16:31:00.000-07:002006-05-29T10:46:12.830-07:00

New Bike Day When I was a kid I used to think Xmas was the coolest day of the year. Who didn’t? Now, as an adult, and adult might be an understatement, I have come to appreciate that the coolest the day of the year is the one where I get to ride my New Bike! At least for the last 13 years that I have been a pro, New Bike Day, has been the most excellent, sweetest, most superlative day of the

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1147256022469546032006-05-10T03:03:00.000-07:002006-05-11T13:46:15.350-07:00

Friday night. According to my doctor, and my once six-pack abs now swollen into a keg, maybe my last Friday night. Before I become a mom. Due any moment now. Unfortunately, bagging some moonlit mountain bike miles on Mt. Tam is not a time killing option either. So what to do with my last Friday night? The car is already packed with baby stuff. New IKEA furniture instructions fulfilled.

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1145908578137382112006-04-24T12:54:00.000-07:002006-04-27T07:27:47.273-07:00

It seems every time you turn around there’s a new and more specialized way to ride a bike. First, there was the big scandal in the stodgy Road Bike scene when Mountain Biking was born. Shortly thereafter someone decided that there was a distinction between Cross Country and Downhill. In an uncertain order there were, Trials, Slalom, Short-track, Dirt Jumping, Mountain Cross, Street Riding,

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1144805816356073202006-04-11T18:31:00.000-07:002006-04-12T09:00:19.420-07:00

Downhill, Cross Country, Mountain Cross, Dual Slalom: all the results from those events are now Sea Otter fish wrap. But the big Sea Otter news on everyone’s mind was who won the weekend’s biggest value purse: Singletrack Jungle’s Inaugural Annual, by Special Invitation Only, Bike Sumo. Bike Sumo All photos by Phil Strong The Bike Sumo winner pocketed a round-trip, all expenses paid,

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1143605942215890332006-03-28T20:15:00.000-08:002006-03-31T16:16:15.916-08:00

Last week Clif Bar held our annual training camp up in the Bay Area. It was reminiscent of years’ prior, with most of the time spent posing for photos and discussing shoe sizes. But there was one big difference. Several of our new teammates happen to spend an awful lot of time running and swimming. This year Luna is mixing things up with a triathlete team. And those girls know how to

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1142357346387690722006-03-14T09:26:00.000-08:002006-03-15T12:11:21.653-08:00

First you need a green screen. That's the big blank background they use in Hollywood to produce the bad sci-fi flicks. They resort to this when there’s no other option. When they know they’re going to need a lot of post-op reconstruction. When there’s nothing in this natural world that can suffice. Then you need a bike stand or a best boy to hold you up. You could do an extended track

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1141185568993057882006-02-28T19:53:00.000-08:002006-03-01T19:28:10.656-08:00

I can never get enough podium appearances, no matter how small the event or how few people are watching. I don't care if it's from beating some 11 year olds in the Shimano kids’ race or dominating the worst-dressed contest. I’ll bust a gut to get up on that podium and beam the gushingest smile I can conjure. I even agree to give public speeches despite being terrified of public speaking. As

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1140055477754547432006-02-15T18:02:00.000-08:002006-02-20T12:53:35.023-08:00

It is a lot like yogurt at first. You did not really want to try it because it seemed gross and it smelled funny. But then you did try it. And you liked it. I had always blown off this inauspicious trailhead on the way to my daily rides. I’d pass right by it without breaking cadence, dismissing it as a 12 foot long fluke of cleared brush, petering out to a certain and cruel dead end.

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1138934759031571282006-02-02T18:43:00.000-08:002006-02-11T13:39:56.626-08:00

My boyfriend, legally now my husband, Mark and I can’t run together. We can't ride together either. We’ve tried to for years. But the thing is, we both like to run and we both like to ride. Just not together. He’s got this weird thing where he can’t run on deep sand or up steep hills. Says he makes ‘postpiles’ like a horse. And on the bike he’s not that keen on the dirt. He claims it’s

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1138237211537023472006-01-25T16:58:00.000-08:002006-01-26T10:40:14.853-08:00

Just a couch and a road ride. That’s all my friend Munny was hoping for. After all, last summer for a whole week he put me up, fed me gourmet meals, and took me on some stunning, epic rides in his hometown in Whistler, Canada. Munny flew down to California last week to get away from the deep snow and frostbite. He’s a full-time firefighter, but somehow finds time to train as a pro

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1137095931033044332006-01-12T11:58:00.000-08:002006-01-14T15:21:35.443-08:00

Don’t know about you, but I ride my mountain bike out of fear. Or, rather I ride to put fear behind me, to leave it lonely in the dust like a ledge drop that most dare not approach. When I first started riding, the fears that I gapped were the usual suspects. A really steep rooted single track climb; would I be able to clear it the whole way and who would see me as I teeter tottered from side

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1136422581291917672006-01-04T16:55:00.000-08:002006-01-05T11:20:09.053-08:00

It was pouring on New Year’s day. And I’m not talking about the champagne. When some in California were busily mopping up the mud in their living rooms brought in from a record breaking storm, my friend Wild Bill and I decided to go check out the “Hangover Harescramble” in Pozo. Afterall, it looked like the rain would let up somewhat. This annual motorcycle event near San Luis Obispo is a

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1135895729066863572005-12-29T14:26:00.000-08:002005-12-30T10:15:19.596-08:00

Jimena Florit is an Argentinian animal on the mountain bike. After racing on the cross country circuit (and winning a couple national championships and the Pan Am games), this two time Olympian decided to call it quits a couple years ago to hit the X-Terra scene. Well, I guess she didn't like it because she's back on the mountain bike circuit and recently signed with the Luna Chix. I can't

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1135218562578601052005-12-21T18:27:00.000-08:002005-12-30T10:13:45.970-08:00

For about 10 years now, I’ve been getting emails from a guy in Japan that I met one time at a world cup in Arai. This guy is a “SUPA” fan of all things bike. His name is Keisuki Kitamura. He often sends Christmas or birthday gifts, which can range from one of his research grant submissions (he’s a science teacher) to a home-made photo collage of bike parts, to an origami kit. My friend

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1134586555286560612005-12-14T10:54:00.000-08:002005-12-14T15:14:08.636-08:00

“Marla of the Jungle.” Got a nice ring to it. I liked that it fits in with my fantastically misguided sense of self. Catchy. Riding through rain forests and wet tropical jungle amid the screeches of howler monkeys, the flapping of brightly colored parrots, and the pungent aromas of ripened mangoes, papayas, and bananas, I really enjoyed pretending that I was “Marla of the Jungle”. It was

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1133284824964455612005-11-29T08:48:00.000-08:002005-11-29T09:26:44.306-08:00

Been hanging out with a local pro mountain biker down here in Costa Rica. "Rom" has lived here all his life, save the first year or two. Here on the southern tip of the Nicoya Penisula in Pachote, a tiny village alongside the estuary that feeds into the Bahia de Ballera. At this year's La Ruta, Rom placed 12th. I easily spotted him at last year's race. There aren't too many 6 foot blond

marla strebhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15845169624551595879noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11129139.post-1132709929432694742005-11-22T17:32:00.000-08:002005-11-22T17:38:49.450-08:00

Costa Ricans (Ticos if they are boys, Ticas if they are girls) ride their bikes. I imagine that's true in most 3rd world countries. Many of the roads are dirt and rutted, and passable by car only in the dry season. The roads that are in better shape are often paved with potholes. Gas is expensive. The only reliable car is fairly serious 4-wheel drive machine. Not an SUV toy with leather

Staffnoreply@blogger.com