On Sunday, I won.

I’ve been feeling a bit distant from writing lately. And I think I’ve found out why. I’ve always tried to be a positive person. I’m also a recovering spazz. I have a vivid memory of a girl at band practice asking me what I was high on; my response: “I’m high on LIFE!” I grew up in a ridiculously supportive family. My parents celebrated my wins and hugged me tight though the tears of loss. They taught me how a Positive Mental Attitude (PMA) melded with hard work and dedication should result in achieving your goals. They also preached:

If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

So in my attempt to be positive, I’ve been running out of things to say. But this space has always been a place of stories and reports. And not all races can end with podium finishes. Is that the only reason to race (or write)? Am I being a sore loser? Had I lost my work ethic? Is this burnout? My PMA-o-meter was at an all time low. Finding the bottom helped to realize what I’m thankful for and why I compete.

Competition is in my blood. It’s who I was for such a long time, that I’m not sure when the transition from competing to participating should happen. Why should it at all? I wasn’t someone who believed in participation medals.

There is a couple ways to look at my first race back:

On Sunday, I participated in the Illinois State Cyclocross Championships. I (Kyle) pinned on a number and rode my bike around a convoluted course marked with stakes and caution tape. I got what I deserved after taking a month off being lazy letting my back heal. Finished 16th.

OR

On Sunday, I won. I toed the line at the IL State CX Champs and crushed that race. I had doubts whether I’d make it to the start line after injuring myself a month ago. But I worked hard to get better. I laid out three goals: 1) protect your body. Listen to your body. If it hurts, stop. But you better damn well not just take it easy. Push the pace. Make your lungs bleed. But listen to your back. 2) Ride the sand. 3) Smile. PMA can easily be started with a smile. Smile through the pain. Through the conditions. Smile because you can. Because you are here. Because you are back.

On Sunday, I won. Goals achieved. 1) Back stood up to the test. Lungs definitely burned and my Garmin said I needed 70 hours of recovery after the race. Check. 2) I rode the sand twice. And bonus goal, I rode one of the slippery, steep run-ups in front of a rowdy crowd. The red dots on my face? Jelloshot handups. Check. 3) Smile? Boy did I smile. I smiled so much my cheeks hurt. I got heckled, commentated on, and cheered for because of that smile. My smile is who I am. Check.

On Sunday, I won. I got to toe the line with the best in the state, not only athletically. These women are the finest. They are my community and what make the sport so great. So many reached out with concern and healing thoughts after my injury. A couple of these women brought me food when I was recovering and Kyle was out of town. {thank you} At the start we were reminiscing. We were giggling at the official. We were congratulating each other on a season of really great competition. This is definitely what I’ll miss most about our time in Chicago. These women. This community.

On Sunday, we won.

Big thumbs up to so many for making the Chicago Cross Cup what it is. Thank you to the community for helping the Velosmith tent rise again. Thankful to the monkeys who put on an amazing event at Montrose. Thankful for the wonderful women of the Chicago cycling community. Thankful most of all for my husband and his unwavering love and support of me. His smiling somewhat less of a spazz partner in life. #willsdynasty #youbetterkeepup