Welcome to the Mid-Pack

I’m often reminded of how lucky I am. There’s something about flying that leaves time for introspection {and the oddity of craving ginger ale, anyone else?} I get to ride and race my bike all over the country. I have a job that allows me to do so. I am married to my biggest supporter and the best sherpa. I’m lucky enough to be racing for Velocio // Exploro, with a team of badass women.

The first few local races this spring felt like I dipped my toes back in the gravel pond. Unbound XL was a cliff jump off the crazy bridge. Then High Cascades 100 as my second ever mtb race? It felt as intimidating and thrilling as a skydive from space. This summer feels like a long ocean swim, crisscrossing my way through the big blue unknown. Here we are, smack in the thick of it. Middle of a racing season that’s been go, go, go.

This isn’t a complaint. We survived a season of nothing. Of an event drought. Of many solo miles and meditation. The drastic change in pace is just that. Drastic. Zero to one hundred may seem overwhelming, or is it exhilarating?

Sarah Sturm’s recent thoughts on “do we give ourselves time?” really struck a chord with me. The quick turnaround has been taxing during this summer of off-road adventures.

Travel, race, rest, reflect, repeat. Finding a semblance of balance in a year of BIG is challenging. Eventually I’ll have to retire from the traveling spandex wearing circus, so I’m trying to soak it up while I can. And still carve out enough lounge time on the couch with my cats.

Yet, the toll of the season was pressuring. The GTI broke down on Kyle when he was driving to pick me up from Rooted. The Sequoia was in the shop and wasn’t going to be able to be fixed before our CO road trip. Laundry, bike maintenance, work, on top of having to find and buy a new car left me at a near breaking point.

Basically what I’m trying to say is balance is impossible. Trying to achieve perfection is fruitless. Enjoy the moment. And soak it in when you get a chance.

As I experience this ever changing niche sport, I find myself searching for more. For new, for the next. (aka why I’m heading LeadBoat} I also feel the pull to slow down, and find the connection to the communities we travel through. I’m concerned American gravel racing is becoming stale. Sometimes it feels as if the same stories and individuals are being repeated, rehashed, and the same ole copy / paste of the promotion for each event is becoming unimaginative.

I was 59th place at Rooted Vermont. I’m by no means a pro {and definitely not a roadie.} I no longer race my bike for results listed on a random spreadsheet. I’m still enamored by a start and finish line, but the way I see it is, I get to enjoy the journey between those two moments for a longer time. This doesn’t mean I don’t suffer. This doesn’t mean I’m riding easy, ‘cause I sure as shit am trying my best. {176 average heart rate for 6 hrs? Yeah, that’s hard.} But with the growth of the sport, and the national spotlight, I find myself searching something beyond a podium.

Instead of taking home an ax, I got to take home the memories of sharing the pre-ride with newcomers RJ and Zac. With cancer survivor Michael. I got to take home the camaraderie of crusher Dawn and the back and fourth racing with guys from Cratos Endurance.

The gps track we follow to reach the finish line may be the same, but everyone has a different journey to be able to make it to the start. These small {and big!} victories deserve to be celebrated.

Welcome to the mid-pack.