I have a confession. I wasn’t supposed to like you. I put on my happy face before the move and thought I’d have to fake it for a while. Our car was broken into on the journey here. My winter coat was stolen. You lost half our couch. After nine years in the US Navy, you were our first big reassignment. And it wasn’t starting out great. Three years? I can do this. Positive thoughts.
You greeted us with heat, humidity, and a chilly dip in your big lake. We got lucky and found an amazing apartment. You gave me the best “job” in the country, working in the best studio with the most ridiculed commute. You sparked a passion for riding and racing in me that needed to be reinvigorated. We adopted two of your street cats and fell in love.
I never thought becoming gravel curious at Night Bison on the tandem would lead to so many amazing adventures in our three short years with you. Who knew that those bourbon shots at the oasis would introduce us to the best people / photographers / generous snack gifters that are Mor and Nathan. As I held on for dear life, barreling down the dirt road at 28mph in a big pack, I took a deep breath, looked around and thought, maybe this will be okay.
I trusted you, diving headfirst into this flatlander dirt stuff. Miss Vivian was born. You taught me how to ride on those roads less traveled. You tried to get me to like cyclocross. I do, but maybe not with the same enthusiasm as your natives. It’s not for lack of trying.
Yes. You’ve got winters. But I’ve got friends in warm places who took me in when my Vitamin D needed a little recharging. Yes, it’s true. Your terrible road conditions destroyed our cars. You’ve eaten two windshields, nine tires, and a front bumper. Luckily we aren’t car people. Your weather patterns forced me to learn how to properly wash my bike. {San Diego friends take note, you do NOT know how to do this.} You urged me to like coffee and now I’m truly addicted.
But now that we are leaving you, I’m getting more than sentimental. I helped you lower your saddle heights. But you helped me raise the road and realize that it’s not so bad here. In fact, it’s wonderful.
Chicago, your cycling community is what every town should strive for. Competitive. Compassionate. Caring. Your crew of women shredders welcomed me in a way I didn’t think was possible, especially as an adult. Inspiring. Empowering. Inclusive. They deserve superlatives beyond my vocabulary. I know I’ll forget someone, but I’m so thankful for every woman who let me into their circle. Who befriended me. Who pushed me to be better.
Annie Byrne – you inspire anyone who meets you, and through all your adversity, it’s you that still shines through. Initially you taught me how to train harder, but now you teach me about patience and resilience.
To the Chicago Women’s Elite Cycling squad: Daphne – thank you for more than just dreaming this up. I feel honored to have been supported by this organization. It gave me a whole new meaning to what a team should be. And to the ladies of CWEC – Christine, Jenny, MarLar, Wissman, Lily, Heather, Katie, Allison, Cathy and all the guest riders and volunteers – thank you for teaching me about sacrifice, hard work, and team tactics. About commitment. About professionalism.
Christine has taught me about balance, hard work, grit, and a little bit of pampering. You’re a shining example of having it all, but working for all of it. I’m so thankful for your friendship on and off the bike. We’ve shared many miles together, and I hope to share many more.
The Comrades and SSGC proved that through preparation, hard work, and accountability you can ride your bike 200 miles with only one gear. It’s these women who inspired me to tackle my own 200 mile journey and who opened my eyes to gravel racing across the country, but especially in Kansas. Liz, Lauren, May, Sam, Mary – thank you all for {un}paving the way.
The XXX Racing women who asked me to race the team time trial when we first arrived and got me out to the velodrome. The Psimetters who showed team tactics work in the 2/3 field. The BFFs that continually recruit and inspire the next generation. And to the Cuttin Crew for showing that if you aren’t having fun, what’s the point? Courtney O, Katie G, Lisa L, Lisa S, Lisa H, Kelly, Margaret, Laura, Annika, Kelsey – Thank you.
The Unionites and GLOBers, who took me in as an honorary pseudo member. Who let me crash their Barry Roubaix house. Who know how to drink coffee {and take great photos} – Meesa, Courtney, Diana, Olivia, Laura, Anna, and Jamielee. Mucho love.
There are many outlets for women riders in Chicago. It’s a constantly evolving process. We all want to see a change in the culture. And we are doing our best to make spaces for that change. Supporting women in cycling is important. Parity. Safety. Inclusion. We all have a hunger. I’m proud and honored to have been a small part of this community during our short stay.
And it’s very important that I thank all the men who have made this place pretty amazing too. It’s not easy to work in a male dominated field, in a workplace with very little female interaction. I feel proud to have brought more than just the token woman card to my workplace. I hope it’s a space that even after I leave, women feel comfortable entering. Tony, Bobby, Brendan, and Elliott, thank you for taking me in, and allowing me to work along side you. As your peer. Thank you for taking such good care of my bikes + kittens; they’ll miss you too.
To Larry and Chuck, who were first clients and who now have become so much more. You have taken us in like family. Your kindness, generosity, and friendship mean more than you know. I feel very fortunate to have met you both. I’m thankful to your families for loaning you out for our adventures, near and far.
And to all those fast, relentless, sketchy, surging, chaotic wheels of the Chicago peloton. I’ve learned so much about winds, where to hide, and how to dress. Yeah, you may not have any hills, but you have a cycling community. And it’s because of this community that I’ll always be proud to say, I used to live in Chicago!
So it’s definitely not goodbye. It’s see you later, dear Chicago.
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