I’m a quarter Native American. My late grandfather was full Ojibwa. We are members of the Bad River Band of the Lake Superior Tribe of Chippewa Indians. As a card carrying member, I have spear fishing and wild rice harvesting rights on tribal land in northern Wisconsin. I do not receive any tribal money, nor was my education paid for by any native scholarship.

shouting across the interwebs: "New Bike Day!"
interwebs: "When ya gonna race him?"
Collective shoulder shrug.

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.

Go. Or don’t, because it was perfect just how it was. As I’ve said before, I’m a big fan of inaugural events. The promoters and vendors are stoked to be there. The racers have a nervous anticipation about what’s ahead. Yeah there are course previews, and videos, and a lot of social media hype. But you can’t feel the emotion of an event by watching from afar. You feel it just before the gun goes off. Standing in the middle of it.

It's hard to believe I've been struggling with fatigue for so long. It was Intelli Cup two years ago where I had a difficult time recovering from that humongous effort. 10 straight days of racing does require a significant recovery period, but that came and went. And I was still tired. I started drinking (and enjoying!) coffee because of the need to fight this extreme fatigue. Apparently, I stop breathing 21 times per hour when I sleep.

The 2019 Dirty Kanza was a race that won't ever leave my soul. It was unlike anything I've ever done, yet it was an accumulation of everything I've learned in sport and life up to this point. Dirty Kanza is way more than just showing up and pedaling your bike for 200 miles. But at the root, that's all it is. Pedaling. 200 miles. On a rough gravel surface. Eating. Drinking. Until you are back to where it all started. Back in Emporia, but as a transformed person.

How did 14 hours, 36 minutes, and 52 seconds change my life?

DNF // Top Step. Basically completely different experiences, but to me, they felt the same. Both days, battling the bike and elements and competition. Some days you win and some you look back at, wondering how you ended up in a cabin in the woods. Or by yourself on a farm road in Michigan. Both journeys by bike.

I love the BRX format. Our morning is quiet. The pomp and circumstance of the main race start at 10am is a stark contrast to our 350 person, 7am Psycho Killer start. Giving us a 3 hour head start lets us enjoy the finish line celebrations with everyone else!

Another race, another opportunity to try and get it right. Isn't that why we race? To test our bodies and minds. For the search of that elusive "no chain" feel? {I hate that saying btw, probably cause I've very rarely felt it. Or you know, I have, just on one of those coffee spins where you're supposed to go easy. Which doesn't count. I digress.}

A young race with a storied history, LandRun should be a bucket list event for most every gravel rider now. The unofficial season kick off. Which includes: Commencing daily weather checks while trying not to freak out. Contemplating tire selections. Panic training. Logistic planning. Brake pad swapping. You know, all the early season race feels.

Three years ago when we moved to the Midwest, I was a 700x25c, 100psi riding SoCal roadie. I was asked if I was going to race cyclocross and I almost spit out my La Croix. Mud, dirt, off road?! Um, if I saw sand in the road I’d freak out internally. How am I going to race cross, and on what bike? When’s the first race?

It’s weird how a piece of pavement can elicit a strong feeling. A vivid memory. A smile. Goosebumps. An overwhelming feeling of content. A tear. For some, this happens with a smell. For me, there are a few pieces of {broken} pavement in San Diego that flood me with emotion. Here are a few I recently visited:

This was our first Christmas apart since his first deployment in 2011. Leaving him late on Christmas Eve wasn’t an easy decision but I got to surprise my nephews, waking them up for Christmas morning. Jax jumped into my arms, and melted my heart. Holidays are so much better with children, and their pure excitement.

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.

Self care is something that historically I've been pretty poor at. Partly because I was never a girly girl, so my initial definition of self care was that of time wasting primping. And partly because I never saw the value. I am all about efficiency. Work hard and the results will come. Is self care something we have to add as we get older? As recovery becomes just as important as the hard workout? Gah - why does taking it easy seem so hard? Also, taking it easy is a terrible way to describe my recovery.