Pavement Ends.

How often do me move through life, and take what we have for granted?

This time of year tends to move our focus forward. Planning and goal setting. We give thanks in November, give gifts in December but January brings resolutions, turning the reflection inward.

In looking forward, I can’t help but look back too. I just turned 35 {seriously, how did that happen?} and I’m still learning more about myself each year.

I did my first triathlon in the 20-24 age group and was nervous about ‘aging up’ to the big girl category that following year. They seemed so much more dialed. Faster obviously. But intimidating, mature, and poised. I felt like I was faking my way through those years of racing and training. {And recovery? Definitely not in my vocabulary.}

As I retired from that silly sport and moved my way into the next {road racing}, I found myself feeling the same. What am I doing here? As soon as I would start to feel confident, I’d move up in categories and find myself in situations that I never felt prepared for. {I suppose that’s why we do it; to push ourselves into the unknown. Scare ourselves a bit.}

And then I finally realized what was holding me back. Myself. Working on our head space is a scary muscle to exercise. We can all pedal harder, train smarter, but if we don’t work on the mental aspect, ‘success’ {however you define that} will be more challenging.

In 2018 I gained a lot. I earned a Dirty Kanza finish line. I gave more to my career. I felt a better appreciation for my husband and best friend. I got to experience the magic of an Ironman sherpa and cheerleader extraordinaire.

But I also lost something. That pep in my step. The pop in my pedal stroke. That ability to handle accelerations. Maybe that DK experience turned my legs to lead. Maybe sleep apnea is preventing me from feeling rested. Maybe my head started getting in the way. Every acceleration hurt. I’d hold my breath in every corner expecting those around me to crash. I felt like I was letting my teammates down. Lacking in both fitness and bravery to battle at the front, I was popped off the back. I had lost the edge.

You can’t race a criterium without it.

2019. As I look inward, I’d like to be more present outward. To make our final year in Chicago one of those where I won’t just look back to see what I’ve gained, but to be happy for what I’ve given.

I’m grateful to those who’ve supported my road racing pursuits. To Chicago Women’s Elite and all the volunteers. I’m grateful for the So Cal community for raising me to be strong. {It was a bit of a ‘mother eat young’ scene which toughened those who stayed with it.} I’m thankful to my bosses who let me pursue this crazy sport. To my coaches and to my sherpa. And to my teammates. Lucky me.

But I’m not a professional cyclist. I can’t do it all. My body found a breaking point and I can’t do that again. And I’ve found something in gravel cycling that’s worth pursuing. Not for the podiums or primes. But in the community. In those pack riding pacts, and those solo pursuits. In the silence. In tackling the terrain and appreciating my body’s ability to overcome. In the spirit of adventure.

So it’s not goodbye. It’s see you later. I’m sure I’ll miss the speed one day, but for now, pavement ends.