An retrospective look into my time at Dirty Kanza...

This was a bittersweet weekend for me, and been emotional in more ways than I can describe. But this happened: at the end of the Dirty Kanza Awards, I puttered over to Gravel City Adventures Bike Shop, where Rebecca Rusch was raffling off one her jerseys. Well, I was just kind of lurking around, waiting a while and trying to get insta to bend to my will - and she actually reached out to me in the shop after spending time with folks coming and going. Well, let me pay all the respects to Reba. She is a fantastic and gracious conversationalist, even as I was choking on my words and being awkward as fuck. But let's be honest, I'm a medium sized fish in a very, very small pond surrounded by Gravel Titans, give me a break. But this is the mark of a true hero, that she (& others) can be kind and humble, even to the awkward fangirl in the corner. I suppose they just want to be treated like normal humans that like to ride bikes.

Rebecca shared her hopes for her big gravel event Rebecca's Private Idaho, as well as gravel racing in general. More specifically, the #BeAGravelSHARK initiative that asks that all gravel riders be Smart, Honest, Accountable, Respectful and Kind, and I honestly said that all the roadies I ride with should take a lesson from her book. I asked about her DKXL ride, and she told me about her strategy in winning the 350 mile, self-supported race (yes, I took notes). Then she asked what I was up to Emporia, and I told her about getting hit, but still coming to DK to support my friends. After a couple of minutes, with no other fan people showing up at the shop for the raffle, she signed the jersey, had THE Amanda Nauman take our picture... and I was a complete dork and didn't use my own phone. What does Bill Murray say? They'll never believe you. I have no proof, other than the jersey, obviously.

She tells me, you need to wear it, let the good juju percolate. But, she's as lean and tough as a sapling, so while I did try it on... you won't see me wearing it on my local club rides. I guess I plan on framing the jersey and hanging on the wall across my from my trainer, or above my desk, flanked by all the silly trophies and medals I've collected the past couple of years. And above it will be a sign: "Never have a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be."

On my way out, Rebecca gave me this huge hug, and thanked me for being patient while she wrapped up at the awards. And that was weird. People describe me as motivated, passionate, intimidating, sharkish, but rarely patient. After my accident, old ladies, while sending their thoughts and prayers, reminded me to "be patient, it takes time." So I was taken aback by that, because you don't have the career, job or hobbies I have without having a bucketful of patience. You don't work in a teaching hospital for a handful of surgeons without having patience. You don't keep bees or ride your bike for twenty-four hours without developing patience. People confuse anger and pain and fear for impatience, and that has never been more profoundly obvious to me as these past two months. It wasn't just my body or my goals that were smashed, it was my confidence and my vocation and mental health. I have't even been able to have sex, for God's sake, without pain. Are those feelings so wrong that people have to sweep them under the rug or make up a more positive narrative for the situation? I mean, whatever helps them, but it didn’t for me.

Going to Emporia despite not being able to ride was difficult for all of the reasons a competitive person might feel. I was jealous, yes. But I also I felt like I was in the way, and also left behind. But, it was important for me to be there to support the people I had been training with for all those months. It was important than I not let my black moods interfere with everyone else's successes. And, I am so, so grateful that Laura let me SAG for her with her boyfriend, Josh. It was a great experience to support her across those crazy, nasty miles. I learned as much from her as I was able to provide from my past experiences. She was riding for me just as much as she was riding for herself… as weird as that is to project that onto her, I guess. But her support through our training together before the crash was instrumental in keeping us both sane in all of our indoor training sessions, and then her friendship after I got hit made the wounds a little easier to deal with, knowing I wasn’t just roadkill. I gave her the biggest hug of all when she crossed that finish line. It was probably weird. I didn't care, because it was better than crying those bittersweet tears.

This bracelet is part of Reba's #begood initiative, where sales go to clearing 80 million unexploded ordinances in Vietnam and Laos and reminding people that their talents can be directed towards making things a little better here on earth. She developed the partnership with Article22 and PeaceBomb after her tremendous ride on the Ho Chi Mingh Trail that was documented in Red Bull's "Blood Road." If you haven't seen it, watch it!

Leaving Emporia, I have all of the feelings beating around in my head. I still feel very divided about what the future holds... will I have a bloody meltdown when I'm back out on the road? I mean, I was on Curt's fat bike a couple of times in rough traffic (shhh, don't tell the doctor) and didn't have time for a meltdown. But it's not like the Kansas drivers are mother fuckers like they are back home in Indiana. Is the risk worth it? Folks, this isn't the first time I've had a close call, and I always knew that it wasn't an "if" but "when" I got hit. Is PTSD a thing for cyclists? I'm not having blackouts, freakouts or panic attacks - yet. But I remember every.fucking.moment of that crash, and when I'm under pressure at work, I'm reduced to tearful puddle, especially if I'm in pain. If I want to pick up where I left off, to make a bid at DK200, or Race Across the West/America, can I put myself and Birt through another year or two or ten of training for ultra-endurance events? I can't even tell you how much losing all of those gains I made this past winter just trashed my spirit. Did I lose my soul somewhere along the way? My sister, husband and family have all made comments how nice it is to see me more since I'm not laying down the miles right now. And if I go back to being competitive with myself & the clock, will my girlfriends still talk to me, or will they start perceiving me as a bitch again.

What I did re-discover, though, is that with everything I saw, learned and felt inspired by was that wherever I go, I will get there. I'm one stubborn-ass she-wolf, who was raised to Be Good, to Be Better and to Be Driven.