The Cycliste Moderne, May 4, 2005

What do you do when your real job gets in the way of your cycling fetish? You ask your wife to write your blog. Today you get to hear from Kristin, the longsuffering Cycliste Moderne blog widow. Sorry everyone, but the jealous mistress that is the law has commandeered all of my attention this week. Kristin has graciously offered to write this installment of the Cycliste Moderne for me.
-G.M.Wardle


Kristin Meets Marla Streb And Reviews Her Book

Geoff suggested that I write a review of Marla Streb’s book, “Downhill: The Life Story of a Gravity Goddess.” My B.A. in History doesn’t qualify me to review her book any more than her Masters Degree in molecular biology qualifies her to write an autobiography. That said, it was a pretty good, fairly painless read.

I first read about her book a couple of years ago in VeloNews. I thought it sounded like a great Christmas present for Geoff. A woman who hated what she did and was lucky enough to find something that made her happy. That something just happened to be the mountain bike. Change she to a he, change the mountain bike to a road bike, and it sounded pretty much like Geoff, but 100 pounds heavier and no tattoo. Unfortunately for Geoff, Marla Streb can actually make money riding her bike, but there is still something to be said about finding happiness in bikes.

I didn’t buy the book for Geoff. I didn’t even think about it again until February when we took Cyclista to the the Seattle International Bike Expo. Marla Streb was signing pictures and her book at the Clif Bar booth. Geoff suggested I go get an autograph for our uber-feminist five-year-old daughter. He also suggested I try the new Oatmeal Raisin Clif Bar, which does indeed taste just like his mom’s cookie dough.

I should have done the autograph first. Instead, I wasn’t really sure which woman behind the booth was Marla Streb. There was a long haired woman in the Clif Bar booth, in casual clothes, eating a burrito, and it seemed pretty stupid to say, “Hey, are you Marla Streb?” It’s not like she was in full Luna Chicks downhill garb or was naked with her world singlespeed champion tattoo out for you to verify her identity and Marla’s hair is currently longer and lighter than typically depicted in photographs. So, instead I went for the Oatmeal Rasin Clif Bar sample. After tasting it and confirming Geoff’s analysis of it, I decided that it was indeed Marla Streb eating her lunch and that I needed to go for it. I should have swallowed the Clif Bar first.

I explained that I wanted her to sign a picture for my five-year-old daughter Sophie who only liked sports if girls were playing. Marla thought that was funny (or at least she said so), and asked how to spell my daughter’s name. When I spelled S-O-P-H-I-E, she replied that she hadn’t understood my accent. Gulp. Embarrassed, I explained that it was a Clif Bar accent and quickly swallowed what I was still eating.

Only then did I go and buy a previously autographed copy of her book. Had I read it first, I wouldn’t have been too embarrassed. Marla does stuff like that too. However, I probably would have embarrassed myself in other ways. Like saying, “We are soooo much alike.” Marla Streb and I are really nothing alike. Yes, sometimes I look around and say “How did I get here?” But, unlike Marla, my answer is usually, “Oh, yeah. I am where I want to be. ” I am okay with the house, minivan, three kids and the cycling media company consuming my existence. Marla decided she needed something else and was fortunate enough to find it.

Marla Streb decided in her late 20’s that being an unhappy biologist with numerous lifestyle issues (namely poor diet, unfulfilling relationships and binge drinking) wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. She jumped off the proverbial cliff and 10+ years later, she’s still happy with her choice. There are a lot of people who are unhappy with their career choices. Few are gutsy enough to do something about it.

Downhill is one of those books that you have to read quickly to get through or you lose your momentum. It is one of those books that you find yourself reading aloud to your husband when he is trying to read “Cycle Sport” or “Velonews.” It is a book that I wish I’d read before meeting the author so that I could get the most of the experience. Now, I have a picture signed for my kindergartner by an athlete that she can look up to, but only with a few caveats. I won’t show Sophie the picture of Marla in Outside, the picture of Marla, her tattoo, and her bike. I won’t tell Sophie about how Marla’s boyfriend tried to finance his sailboat by growing pot in his basement. And I probably won’t tell my daughter, who has already asked me “Didn’t you ever want to anything else besides a mommy?” that Marla decided she’d rather take the different road. For some people, that works. I’m happy to play it safe.

-Kristin