Last April, Alyana Van Horn and her dad Izaak Van Horn made the long drive from their home in Medford, Oregon, to Port Angeles, Washington.

They’re both competitive mountain bikers, and they spent much of the drive talking about Izaak’s many hospital visits.

“He’s had three surgeries on his shoulder,” Alyana said.

“My shoulders came out of the socket doing everything,” Izaak added. “And then I broke my elbow a year and a half ago mountain biking”

“There is not good luck with shoulders in the Van Horn family,” Alyana said.

Alyana and Izaak spent eight hours in the car that day so Alyana could compete in the opening race of the NW Cup — the flagship downhill race series in the Pacific Northwest. According to Izaak, his daughter, who also goes by Aly, intended to leave with a gold medal.

“Aly wants to win. She’s got some kind of drive in her,” he said. “And as it turns out, she has the skills and the fitness to back it up.”

At 17 years old, Alyana was competing in the expert class — which is one level below pro. How she performed at races, like the NW Cup, would determine whether she could turn pro and make mountain biking an actual career.

“If she does well this season, she could get to race on the world stage,” Izaak said. “For a kid like her that’s kind of the dream.”

From hobby to passion

Alyana started tagging along on her dad’s mountain biking trips when she was a kid.

“I think I was around seven years old when I started riding,” Alyana said. “I just remember it was for me. I liked it.”

She was a quick learner and showed real talent early on. Eventually Alyana began competing in races.

“Somewhere along the line, a fire was lit in that kid,” Izaak said. “She did one of her first downhill races and won.”

Izaak realized racing was becoming more than a hobby for his daughter. He and his wife Julie started planning their lives around Alyana’s races, and it paid off — she kept winning. Before long, mountain biking looked like it could become a viable career path.

A dangerous career

The premise of downhill racing is simple: Start at the top and race to the bottom as fast as you can.

But the terrain changes everything. Riders have to navigate steep drops, jagged rocks, and mangled roots — all while moving at dangerously fast speeds down a mountain. In a sport measured by fractions of a second, the pressure was real for Alyana.

“It’s up to me to remember places on the trail to look out for,” she said. “There are just little things that could go wrong and end my run real quick.”

Competitions split riders into categories based on age and skill level. Alyana raced in the top junior category for girls ages 17 and 18. Riders typically get a full day of practice runs to learn the course. On race day, everyone gets a single run, and the fastest time wins.

The emphasis on speed makes downhill racing one of the more dangerous extreme sports. Over the years, Alyana has sustained multiple serious injuries. In 2022, a crash at Mount Bachelor fractured her eye socket and cheekbone.

“My bones will never be 100% again. I have three metal plates and a handful of screws in my face,” she said holding up a cupped hand. “Like a handful, as in over 15 screws.”

As a parent, Izaak has had to accept the injury risk his daughter faces every time she rides.

“I see a lot of parental anxiety, and if I have that, it’s no longer fun,” he said. “I just have to trust in her strength, and her skill, and her decision-making through experience.”

Race day

The day of the NW Cup race last year, Dry Hill Park in Port Angeles, Washington, was packed with riders and spectators. Sponsor tents, an announcer’s booth, and a food truck sat near the finish line. Music blared from a large speaker system.

After riding the course multiple times the day before, Alyana was prepared for her race run.

“This is it,” she said, strapping on her protective gear. “This is the race of the weekend.”

In downhill racing, no single win makes you a pro. It takes several victories across an entire season. A win here would bring Alyana one step closer to a professional career.

Alyana waited at the top of the course with other riders in her category. When her name was called, she walked her Specialized race bike up to the start gate, where a judge stood ready to count her down.

In downhill, there’s no pack to fight through. Riders launch individually, battling the clock rather than each other.

After the countdown Alyana was off — threading through tight forest corners where trees crowded both sides of the trail, forcing precision on every turn. Rocks and roots jutted out of the dirt. The track was steep and relentless.

A few minutes later she burst out of the tree line toward the finish. The area was packed with spectators and other riders. Izaak stood near the finish gate, cheering as she crossed.

“Is this Aly?” he asked, craning his neck. “Let’s go Aly!”

Aly crossed the finish line and caught her breath. She looked up at the screen showing race times. Her name was at the top: 2 minutes and 48 seconds. First place.

Izaak ran over to embrace his daughter.

“You got it, kid!”

Over the rest of the 2025 season, Aly ended up winning five of her 13 races. It was enough to move her into the pro class. She is currently ranked fourth in the nation with USA Cycling and will be competing at the first race of the 2026 NW Cup on April 12.

News Source : https://www.opb.org/article/2026/03/26/medford-oregon-teen-pro-downhill-mountain-biking/