At the top of a very long stage at BME Snowmass at the end of June.
Most of the summer is little more than a jumbled blur in my scattered, cortisol-laden mind. My dear grandmother passed away in late May and I flew to Wisconsin for the funeral. Then I quickly jetted back to work and racing. After the Glorieta Enduro, I raced the Angel Fire Enduro (NMEC #3) and BME Snowmass. I managed to ride strong and I felt really good about where I finished in each race, 3rd and 4th respectively. The competition was getting pretty tough, and I was exhausted after BME Snowmass in late June.
I'll spare you all the gory details, but on July 3rd, my life changed in a catastrophic way. My husband, Matt, was injured in a helicopter crash while at work as a flight nurse. He was lucky, but had to be flown to Denver for emergency surgery.
The first words he spoke after the anesthesia started wearing off were concerned questions about his co-workers.
Later that night, he started lamenting that our summer biking trip to the Pacific Northwest would have to be cancelled. Then he started telling me that I had to keep racing and stay on the bike, because I could. No pressure.
Despite Matt's wishes, I had a really hard time training for all of July and most of August. By, hard time, I mean it didn't happen. Family came to visit, Matt came home from the hospital, and the summer slipped away before I knew it. Enduro World Series Crested Butte, instead of the culmination of my first year racing pro and a chance to shine in one of my favorite places to ride, ended in tragedy (with the death of a racer), and left all of us questioning why we race. Mid-August found me feeling depressed and not myself.
I'll spare you all the gory details, but on July 3rd, my life changed in a catastrophic way. My husband, Matt, was injured in a helicopter crash while at work as a flight nurse. He was lucky, but had to be flown to Denver for emergency surgery.
The first words he spoke after the anesthesia started wearing off were concerned questions about his co-workers.
Later that night, he started lamenting that our summer biking trip to the Pacific Northwest would have to be cancelled. Then he started telling me that I had to keep racing and stay on the bike, because I could. No pressure.
Despite Matt's wishes, I had a really hard time training for all of July and most of August. By, hard time, I mean it didn't happen. Family came to visit, Matt came home from the hospital, and the summer slipped away before I knew it. Enduro World Series Crested Butte, instead of the culmination of my first year racing pro and a chance to shine in one of my favorite places to ride, ended in tragedy (with the death of a racer), and left all of us questioning why we race. Mid-August found me feeling depressed and not myself.
Descending Star Pass- EWS Crested Butte was cancelled after another tragedy
I knew what needed to happen. I had to get back on the bike and get normal and happy again. But knowing something doesn't always make it easy to do. Our first free weekend after Matt came home from the hospital left us staring at each other, not entirely sure what to do. Its rather awkward when your best friend can no longer participate in your favorite together activity with you. He offered to shuttle me on a high alpine ride, but I wasn't having it. I was stubborn, inky and tearful. So Matt left to go for a walk with the dogs. And I was stuck with my depressed self. So I loaded up my bike and drove to Leadville to get away from crowds. I found myself headed up the road to Mt Sherman. And then I started pushing my bike up Mt Sherman. I kept pushing until I was riding around on the summit. Somewhere between home and 14,035 feet, I started feeling much better. I texted Matt a summit-selfie. I felt like me again.
On the way up I had my picture taken by kind strangers that were amazed (and probably jealous) that I intended to ride down the mountain. On the summit there was a group of 3 fellas drinking beer and giving me major props. One of them had a hand gun tucked in to the waist of his pants. When I asked him about it, his response was concise and appropriate, "Merica."
The ride down was harrowing. Surfing steep scree and loose dirt will give you forearm pump before you know it. There was actually some hike-a-bike on the way down too. But it was worth it. I needed an adventure in a very bad way.
Suffice it to say that I overcame the inertia. I got back in the saddle about 2 weeks ago. Riding bikes is a magical potion that has the power to cure me.
I'm back to riding and adventuring. So that means I'm back to blogging.
Stay tuned. Here's a taste of what I've been doing for the past 2 weeks.
The ride down was harrowing. Surfing steep scree and loose dirt will give you forearm pump before you know it. There was actually some hike-a-bike on the way down too. But it was worth it. I needed an adventure in a very bad way.
Suffice it to say that I overcame the inertia. I got back in the saddle about 2 weeks ago. Riding bikes is a magical potion that has the power to cure me.
I'm back to riding and adventuring. So that means I'm back to blogging.
Stay tuned. Here's a taste of what I've been doing for the past 2 weeks.
I look forward to biking more 14ers. But in the meantime, I'm just happy to have my daily dose of bike back in my life.
