A Window to My Soul…
My Recovery From Racing - And a Little MTB History
By Christine Hirst Bernhardt
For over a decade I had two lives in Southern California: Monday through Friday I taught high school science. On Friday, I was racebound from the school parking lot. I was fortunate enough to be near the nation’s only Winter gravity series-frequented by legends such as the Athertons, Aaron Gwin, Melissa Buhl, Eric Carter, Anneke Beerten and my mentor, Leigh Donovan.
Outside of racing, I didn’t fit in with other women; playground talk was not exactly conducive to my weekend ventures of chasing the clock in rain, hail, crazy wind or heat. I didn’t relate to other moms, who thought biking was synonymous with beach cruisers and took Disney vacations. But every weekend, I reunited with my people: the other misfits who found community amidst the parking lot campers, Saturday night bonfires and race day recaps. I may not have been the fastest-but I was usually on the podium. This was my community. I met my best friend, our boys became best friends, and we were each other's bridesmaids. My children literally grew up at races, and I had the doctors permission to race with each of them during my first trimester. Don’t judge.
-
Racing in the SoCal Winter Series Pro Women
-
Turning some heads at Bryce my first day there.
In 2007 I founded Vixen Racing - the only women’s professional extreme sports team-to provide opportunities for female racers. For a few years, we dominated the National downhill scene. Back then, women had no bikes, gear, or prize money. I received $2 checks for the top spot while the first man left with $2500. I was used to the inequity. At National Champ podiums, the announcers forgot the entire women’s field and sent everyone to the bar, leaving us with XXXL jerseys and only our families in attendance (note: years later, USA Cycling sent me the jersey I earned).
Melissa Buhl beat me, but she was the World Champ, so thats ok.
When I turned pro, I realized I could not do the wrong things any faster, so I attended a Betterride clinic. Although I blew my ACL, (I did a high speed manual and unclipped a second too late) this changed my life; my vision and perspective shifted, and I knew coaching was my calling. For the next few years, I juggled managing a team, coaching, got two master’s degrees and had another baby. I rode each day after school, and on weekends we would shuffle kids to ride Santa Barbara if we weren’t racing.
Coaching Girlz Gone Riding events in Los Angeles.
Around 2013, Enduro events sprang up, promising a blend of everyday trail riding, epic descents down multiple stages and chair lifts (sadly that one didn't last). By 2014, major sponsors had entered the Enduro scene offering large payouts-even for women. I had constantly trained anaerobically to race downhill and now, I had to build an aerobic base. I began a strict regimen of early morning trainer workouts and structured weekend rides. Although I was coaching a large women’s group, I attended only one event -a 50 miler. Riding was training, not social. You could join me to do intervals, or a scheduled recovery day. No Drop rides were my worst nightmare. Who has time for other people's flats?
I entered the 2015 Enduro race series in the best shape of my life, with good sponsors and a solid team. But the racing God’s had other plans: in race 1, I dropped my chain in stage one. Next race, I got a flat on the final sprint of the final stage. The next, my tire succumbed to the dreaded water pipe on stage 3. In another, I stupidly missed my start and got caught behind a slower girl. I sold my entry to the next race and didn't bother going to the last of the series. Seeing my times instantly changed my perspective of the weekend. I wasn’t winning. What I thought would be my strongest season was far from it. I was beaten by girls I had never heard of (enter Amy Morrison - reigning National Enduro Champ). I was burned out. I had spent so much time training-for what?
-
Racing in the SoCal Winter Series Pro Women.
-
Vixen Racing-circa 2010. Photo cred Andy @ BlueFire
For the first time in my adult life, I quit training. I had nothing to train for. Riding had always had a purpose - to win; but I had lost more than races. I figured I would find another sport. I returned to running and hit the gym hard. Maybe I’d be a Ninja Warrior. One day a race buddy randomly suggested a girl that I should ride with. “She’s fast,” he said, knowing how much I hated girlfriend set-ups; they are far worse than a blind date.
I hadn’t ridden in a while, and my time was limited as a newly single mom. I asked if she was down with dawn patrol as a litmus test, having never done that myself. That first ride in the dark, I nearly barfed. We took a wrong turn, which would normally drive me crazy, but she laughed. She laughed the entire ride-at me, at her, at the trail. She had never raced, and didn’t need to; she rode for the ride. She was my Ride or Die. I realized that somewhere along my race journey, I misplaced my purpose. It wasn’t for an end goal - I had to ride for the present, for the process of becoming me. I vowed to ride and laugh.
I raced a few Enduros in 2016, and even won a regional title before my ACL failed again and I officially retired. Since then, I have ridden all over the world, found another great female riding buddy, and was in a commercial that exceeded all of my race winnings times 1000. Riding once again became my refuge and my therapy. Tackling obstacles on the trail gave me the confidence to embrace my strength elsewhere. Railing long rock gardens reminded me to trust the process, that I could persist even when it hurt, and hitting big drops reminded me that I was a badass.
-
Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get a ride in.
-
JD Swanguen and me. We had both won the Cal State race.
-
Number 2 means I was the series leading pro woman.
In 2021, I moved to DC as an Education Fellow in Congress, and to finish my Doctorate. In California, I was known. In DC, I was a chick who obviously needed a guide. I spent my first year riding alone. I met a couple rad gals, who both moved away. I went to a shuttle day at Massanutten bike park and heard about a ride called Gears ‘n Beers. In 20 years, I could count my group rides on one hand. I was reluctant. Patience is not my virtue. Nonetheless, I joined the “party pace” group, and had the best ride of my life.
The next week even was better. I found a great riding buddy - my new Ride or Die - and a community of non-racing riders. The East Coast forced me to re-learn every skill, which I did.
I’m so grateful that I let myself ride again for the love of the process, not the product, and for the riders along the way that reminded me to laugh. Riding has taught me more about what I bring to this world than any degree or career move. They are both my story: racing provided a mirror of comparison, but riding provided a window to my soul.
Mountain biking is more than a sport; it’s a way of life. And, my best teacher.
The champions of the future back when no one had run bikes. My son is number 2, Eric Carters' 936 and my best friends 935. All went on to race the NICA league.