My First Cycling Race

 

***All professional photos used with purchase

On Sunday September 14 of 2025, I completed one of the toughest athletic events of my life. 

Long-time friends may remember that time in 2020 when I bought a second hand hardtail and taught myself to mountain bike. I had to stop in 2021 when I realized it was preventing a neck injury from healing. 

With my first bike on the C&O back in 2020.

Well, apparently cycling of some sort is my apocalypse sport of choice: in May of this year, I decided I needed a distraction from other things happening in my life at the time, and impulse-bought a Specialized Allez road bike. It's technically entry level, but it had amazing reviews from people that had kept theirs for decades, preferring them over fancier models. The Allez is also very upgradeable, which meant I could transform it if I decided I wanted more bells and whistles down the line.

I was worried the road bike might make the old neck injury flare up, but I took the chance anyway. I am so glad I did: this is the first bike I have bought for my measurements, and it was love at first ride. I felt so balanced and...one with the bike. It was like it instantly became an extension of me. Funny how buying a thing that fits you can make such a big difference!

A very dear friend mentored me. They were familiar with my athleticism: it was their idea I sign up for the Maryland Gran Fondo on September 18, 2025, at the Medio distance, which is 60 miles. "Gran Fondo" refers to cycling events with timed sections as well as a final finishing time. The catch: The Maryland Gran Fondo is THE cycling event with the most altitude gain in the ENTIRE United States! Yes, even more than out west. It's 10,000' for the 80 mile distance, 6000' for the 60 mile distance (Medio), 2300' for the 30 mile distance (Piccolo). And where does it take place? In our backyard! It starts in downtown Frederick, then climbs up the mountain range shared by the Watershed, Gambrill State Park, Cunningham Falls and Catoctin Mountain Park...not one, not two, but three times for the Medio. 

If you’ve been my friend long enough, you will recognize the pattern that *I* didn’t recognize at the time: when I sign up to do my first event in a new sport, I don’t do the run-of-the-mill ordinary stuff. Normal people start with the easy thing as an intro: the fun run held by the local running club, for example. Me? I go FUCKING big or I go the fuck home. 😂

Examples:

1. My first road running race at age 20 wasn’t a 5k, it was an internationally renowned 10k that I trained for for a year. Before signing up, I had not run more than a lap around a track since I was in grade school. I had definitely never run a full mile! Here I was planning to do 6.2 in one go.

That very first 10k. This was before cell phones had cameras, back in 2000! 

2. My first endurance ride wasn’t an Intro ride or a flat LD (25-30 miles), it was the second-toughest ride in the United States (after Tevis) at the 50 mile distance.

3. When I signed up for my first bodybuilding competition, I didn't go with the state level natural bodybuilding organizations. I signed up for a national level show (NPC) competing against people on anabolic steroids. I was one of the very few100% natural athletes at that competition (the only supplement I was on was creatine)...and I placed.

That’s me on the right.

So of COURSE I would sign up for one of the most challenging mountain-climbing cycling races in the US for my first cycling event ever. I hadn’t even ridden in a group yet!

I did it because this friend believed that I could do it. 

But! Here’s the other catch: said friend had not actually seen me ride my new bike when they suggested I sign up for that race. 😬

My second ever ride on the road bike was with this friend. They had the grace to be highly amused (vs horrified) when they saw me struggle to just take off in a balanced manner with both feet on the pedals, as I chanted to myself, "I am beauty, I am grace, I am Miss United States!" in honor of Miss Congeniality's klutziness. 

It was my first time on a truly hilly route. The original goal for that ride was around 36 miles with 4000’ elevation.

My legs, my super strong legs that have squatted up to 245 lbs, burned throughout the entire thing in an unbelievable way. It reminded me of why I used to hate running so much when I was the chubby kid in school that got chosen last for sports. 

I was 9 years old here at a school field day. Mom took this photo during her B&W photography era (she is an amazing photographer.) Don’t get excited: that was just a participation ribbon after a relay race that involved running. Just note that I couldn’t find it in myself to smile for the camera. 😆

I was dismayed that this one outing was so challenging despite being in half marathon condition and still regularly squatting and deadlifting almost 1.5x my bodyweight. 

None of this was helped by the fact that I didn’t even know how to use my gears! Between that and the killer burn, I had to walk my bike up most of the hills. I called it quits at mile 20. I had only done 2000' elevation gain and felt like I was going to die. 

It was early June. I barely had 3 months to get my shit together to be able to do this monster of a ride I had signed up for.  How on earth would I do 6000' of climbing?!

My friend still insisted I’d be ready by then.

Like my ADD self is wont to do, I immediately jumped into learning everything there was to know about road bike drive trains. I learned that I was seriously limiting myself with only 8 gears (what my Allez came with. Ideally you want 10 minimum.) Not only did I want more gears, I wanted climbing gears specifically. Climbing gears = you can keep switching gears as you climb so your pedaling has less resistance while you continue to move forward. It makes climbing far less taxing.

I contacted the owner of one of our local bike shops (LBS) with my bike's specs and what I wanted. Apparently there are not many women in road cycling (I have since confirmed this - it is very much a male-dominated sport), much less women who turn themselves into total gear heads in a 48 hour period. The LBS owner was impressed with my knowledge:experience ratio and what I wanted to do. When I told him I wanted 10+ gears so I could climb Hamburg Road (the most challenging road in Frederick County - I will circle back to that in a bit), he recommended an unconventional (meant for gravel bikes, not road bikes) but more affordable groupset that would give me exactly what I wanted.

Holy smokes did it make a difference. Not only did I have at least 3 more gears specific to climbing, the new system was so much smoother for switching gears with my tiny hands.

This was another upgrade, but I did this one myself: the Allez is dark gray. I got this frame protection film for the bike from Ground Keeper in a black splotch print that subtly reminded me of a tiger shark’s markings. The owner of the LBS was floored when he learned I had done the job myself - he said it’s the best film application job he’s ever seen. People rave about my bike when they see it up close in public: there’s no other out there that looks like it.

A tiger shark’s markings

There was another problem though: I was also running and lifting. I was WAY overtraining while trying to figure out the volume logistics of two long-distance cardio-based sports + strength training: my progress in all three sports was being hampered by exhaustion. Even when you're young (20s, 30s) overtraining will have an impact on your hormone levels first. This is true for BOTH men and women! While overtraining can be par for the course when preparing to compete, especially at high levels and especially as the competitive event gets closer, it can be quite unhealthy if sustained indefinitely - this is why off seasons are a must in order to lower the intensity, cross-train, strengthen and rebuild. Long-term overtraining can lead to thyroid disorders like Hashimoto’s, autoimmune diseases like fibromyalgia, sex hormone imbalances that can tank your sex drive (both sexes!) and make your period disappear (specific to owners of uteri, of course), increased risk of injury from sustained cortisol levels, intense muscle/joint pain after training, persistent crankiness, chronic fatigue and difficulty recovering, etc, etc, etc. 

I’m going to bring this up in order to normalize discussing it, especially as someone who has spent the entirety of her adult life getting to know and understand her body inside and out: As a perimenopausal woman already experiencing sharper hormonal shifts throughout the month, overtraining will take a toll MUCH sooner, manifesting as even more extreme shifts that can have an enormous impact on your emotional and mental state. 

So when I found myself bursting into irrational tears after hitting a wall 20 minutes into a run that should have been easy, I realized I needed help. 

My running this year has been no joke: this photo is from my first ever half marathon (13.1 miles), which I ran in 2:19 hrs back in May. (Before I began road cycling in earnest.) Hence why crying 20 minutes into a run was so abnormal for me! 

I hired a coach that specialized in both triathlon and endurance sports so she could manage the simultaneous programming of my bicycling and running.  She reassured me that what I wanted to achieve with the Medio was within the realm of possibility thanks to my strength training background. 

Working with her was the best idea ever!

Suddenly, my cycling started to improve in leaps and bounds while running became easy...I have been a runner in some way, shape or form for the past 25 years, but have never considered running "easy." This is what correct programming for sports looks like: you put in the work and get consistently better without destroying yourself in the process. I felt rested, energized and powerful in all of my workouts, while still strength training 3 x/week and working a physically taxing full-time job. Note: this was aided by the fact that I was also eating like it was going out of style: 2500-4200 calories/day. I listened to my hunger cues and gradually increased my calories until I regained my energy and strength, my sleep quality improved, AND hormonal shifts normalized. You CANNOT do what I’ve been doing on fumes. The work has to be fed, and fed WELL. I still dropped 8 lbs! ALSO: Society loves to tell women that their metabolisms slow down after their mid-30s. This is false. What slows down are people: most women in their mid-30s have more sedentary lifestyles. They might be working out and eating the same as when they were younger, but they are moving around less during the rest of their day. This is called NEAT: Non-Exercise Activity Thermogenesis = the calories that you burn existing in your daily life. Decreased NEAT is what slows down your metabolism, NOT your age. I am 46 years old and even when I wasn't training for two different endurance sports, I was still eating 2x what I used to eat in my 20s thanks to my 10,000 steps/day minimum. Yes, even when I had a desk job training newbie technicians two years ago. Walking isn't sexy but it's the easiest and most underrated way to speed up your metabolism.

Work hosted a step challenge between December 2020 and January 2021. The prize was a $100 Visa gift card. I already have a higher-than-average step count, but I needed to beat the owner of two working Malinois, so I added hiking on the weekends. Not long hikes: usually only 4-6 miles. The only other exercise I was doing at the time was lifting (no running)…I lost 5 lbs in a month just from increasing my step count. And I won the challenge! 

ANYWAY.

I am still in awe of how quickly my cycling improved. I was only able to do one real long ride per week on the road bike. The brunt of the work happened on a rather inadequate stationary bike. Every weekend, I added 5, 10, 15 more miles to the road total I had completed the previous week. Normally you want to add only one variable at a time: speed, time, distance OR elevation. Due to the time crunch, I had to manage all the variables at once...and I succeeded! I got faster at the same time as I got better at climbing hills. 

I turned 46 on July 15. 2 days later, I went out and rode a mile for every year + 1 bonus mile = 47 miles total. Prior to that, the farthest I had gone was 30 miles. I’m not kidding about how quickly my cycling improved!

My next three biggest struggles were:

1. Pedaling out of the saddle - this is a necessary skill for climbing. While I had not been able to do it at all in 2020 on the old hardtail, I was able to pedal standing up on the road bike, just not for very long. Despite my core and leg strength, it wore me out faster than just pedaling seated. I decided I wanted to have the option of riding on trails again, so I took advantage of the end of summer bike super sales and bought an entry level hardtail MTB. Same discovery: cycling is so much easier when the bike fits you! I was able to pedal out of the saddle on the new MTB from day one without any issues whatsoever. The skill immediately transferred back to the road bike. This meant that during the week, I would take the MTB out for 15-20 minutes just to solidify this one particular skill. 

I look like such a freaking badass in this photo!

2. I did not want to use cleats yet. The vast majority of road cyclists clip into their pedals to make their pedaling more efficient. It also makes climbing easier because you can pull UP on the pedals on the upstroke. I had experimented with this on my stationary bike - while I appreciated the increased efficiency of my pedaling, it created another issue: I have a janky right knee, and being locked into the pedal irritated the knee. I decided I'd wait until after the race so I could go to a professional bike fitter to analyze my movement patterns and foot anatomy to determine the best shoes, cleats and pedals for me - the last thing you should do before a major long event like this is throw in a new variable at the last minute. So I rode in flat mountain bike pedals with studs combined with sticky-soled mountain biking shoes. While it wasn't the same as being clipped in, my feet stuck to those pedals like glue + still allowed me to occasionally shift my foot position to keep my knee happy. It was perfect..and my knee never bothered me at all throughout this process. 

Tell me you’re a cycling noob without telling me you’re a cycling noob…

3. I have an old injury in my left hip from my one real professional horse training job at a horse rental facility in Florida where a training project reared and flipped over on top of me. He landed on the left side of my groin. The only reason why my left hip wasn't crushed outright is because the horse was a large pony and I landed in deep sand. I was 25 years old; had just moved to the mainland from PR. It was a job that paid cash: there was no workman’s comp, no health insurance. I could not go to a doctor to get imaging done. So I basically spent the next 4 weeks kinda-sorta dragging my left leg while stubbornly insisting on continuing to work. I eventually quit because I couldn’t deal with the pain, taking a job as shipping department manager at a local tack shop. It was 6 months before I could ride again, and almost two years before I could ride more than one horse in a row without pain in my left hip. I’m pretty sure I sustained some sort of soft tissue tear: for years after, if I overdid it with lower body workouts, my left hip flexor would get super tight, pulling on my lower back. It sucked - I’d have to dial back on the intensity. Definitely an indicator of less flexible scar tissue in that area. Interestingly, it also made my left leg more stable - while I am right handed, I have dramatically better balance on my left leg than my right thanks to that scar tissue. I have to be very careful to incorporate unilateral leg exercise in order to keep my right leg equally strong! 

The lower back pain from that old injury had not been an issue for the last 18 years, not through bodybuilding, CrossFit nor powerlifting…until I started adding climbing on the bike. My left hip flexor would get so tight it would burn and pull - I’d have to dismount, walk a couple of steps to relax the muscle, then continue. On rides with over 3k’ elevation gain, I sometimes had to get off every 10 miles or so in order to continue. The level of pain did concern me - this was an “overuse-injury-in-the-making” type of pain. The soreness would last for days sometimes. Now hold that thought because this will come up again.

The 4th challenge was not being able to let go of the handlebars to do things like drink water, but this one worried me far less. The best I can still do now post race is flip someone the bird, as shown in this photo, but at least now I remember to continue pedaling. 😜 #priorities

In August, I returned with my friend to the route I had quit on that first ride, and not only did I stay on my bike going up every single hill, I more than doubled the distance completed AND the elevation gain. The best part? My lungs and legs didn't burn at all!!!

Like…where did this body come from?!

Oh right: I built it!

I still wasn't sure I'd be able to complete the Medio. You see, it has three timed sections: 

1. Hamburg Road - 1267' elevation gain in 5.8 miles. It is one of the steepest, most challenging roads to cycle in all of Frederick County. It's legendary in the local cycling community for its relentlessness. Some sections are on an 18% grade. Even my little Corolla groans when going up that road - it's that steep! And it comes up only 4 miles into the race. To make it even better: you have ALREADY been climbing for those 4 miles BEFORE you get to the start of Hamburg!
   
   

   

   The illustration says “Max 11%” but look at the color gradients of the model and compare to the color code on the right…that red section is almost 20%.

   
   
   
   
   
2. Harp Hill - it's a triple-slope that also has an 18% max grade. At least it's shorter than Hamburg: only 1.5 miles. 
   
   
   

   
   
   
3. Gambrill Park Road - this is the third climb to the ridgeline and it is 5.5 miles long. It is not as relentless as Hamburg, but it has a nice little 14% slope at the very end.
   
   
   

   
   
   

And that's not counting all of the climbing IN BETWEEN the timed sections. You don't really start going downhill until mile 47 of the ride!

Like any newbie worth their salt would be expected to do, I was panicking a bit at 2 weeks out, afraid I would fail, but both my friend and my coach talked me off the ledge.

I decided my goal would be to complete no matter how long it took. I also gave myself permission to hike my bike up the steepest parts of Hamburg if I needed to: the last thing I wanted or needed was to piss off my hip flexor so much I wouldn’t be able to continue. 

I spent the week leading up to the race using PEMf and red light therapy on my left hip flexor every night before bed. I carb loaded for 3 days prior to the race - low fiber (digestion should be streamlined for endurance events to prevent stomach upset), moderate protein, low fat. The goal with this is to make sure glycogen stores are full in order to provide energy during sustained efforts like what I was about to do that weekend. My calorie total was around 3200, my carb total averaged 500 g/day. (This is a LOT, by the way! Especially if you're not doing it by just stuffing your face with sugar.) I did short, easy cycling and running workouts during the days leading up to the Gran Fondo to keep the muscles moving and primed.

I woke up surprisingly calm on race day. I had a bagel with eggs and string cheese, packed up enough snacks, water and electrolytes for an army, and ran out the door with my bike.

Parking was at the same high school where I first started riding the old hardtail back in the summer of 2020…I’d wake up at 4:00 am and ride circles in the parking lot before dark, practicing turning, hopping on and off curbs, going over speed bumps. Everything on the bike was terrifying back then. 

2020 me on the hardtail. Just crossing bridges without panicking about hitting the rails was such a big deal back then!

At the time, I was overwhelmed by Covid fears and the frustration of having to adapt to not having gym access due to lockdown, losing all the strength I had gained during the prep for my last powerlifting meet that February, and not being able to even visit my horse due to Covid restrictions at the barn. I had thrown myself into this sport that I felt completely talent-less at because I needed a distraction and an excuse to get outdoors. 

2020 me had no idea…

Circling that parking lot in the dark under the lights back then carrying the weight of a changing world on my shoulders, I never in a bazillion years would have dreamed that 5 years later I’d be parking in that same spot with my road bike in tow in order to do this insane bike race after only 4 months of consistent riding.

I choked up now as I sat in the truck. It was a true full circle moment. “Talentless” my ass. What I had done in only 4 months was not normal by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve done some crazy, wildly successful stuff in the past, but with tons of prior preparation. What I was about to do wasn’t even normal for me. Under normal-for-me circumstances, I would have wanted a year of consistent riding under my belt before even thinking of signing up for something like this race.

The craziest thing of all was that I had done this thing, this incredible feat, just to prove to someone that meant the world to me that I could keep up. I’m still not entirely sure that they understand the scope of what I did for them. 

The ride start was in downtown Frederick, in front of Baker Park. I packed all the water I’d need until the first aid station and my snacks for the duration of the race, then swung a leg over and rode on over to get my time chip.

I began at the back of the pack, in a familiar echo of my days spent endurance riding on horses: I always started at the back so my horses wouldn’t get amped up with other horses passing them. 

This was Lily’s 3rd endurance ride and Gracie’s first. We started at the back of the pack and almost Top Tenned out of 50 or so riders. 

In my case now, I didn’t want to feel boxed in at the beginning, plus I assumed I would be the slowest person there. While I was familiar with basic cycling etiquette,  remember: I had never ridden in a group before! 

This wasn’t a small group by any means: there were over 700 riders signed up for this race. 

I surprised myself when I started passing people on the long insidious climb up Yellow Springs Road towards Hamburg.

Only 3 months prior, I had ridden out to Yellow Springs  with the lofty goal of practicing Hamburg…except once I reached Yellow Springs, I had to get off the bike to walk multiple times because I couldn’t handle the burning in my lungs and legs. I didn't make it to the beginning of Hamburg that time.

Now here I was not just breezing up Yellow Springs, but passing cyclists far more experienced than I. 

I am nothing if not stubborn. After that first failed attempt, I rode out to Hamburg twice more: 

#1. I made it to the base of Hamburg, but had to walk most of its 5.8 miles. Let me tell you: that road is so fucking steep, your heart rate will skyrocket even while walking it - it's a serious glute and hamstring workout. 

#2. I made it halfway up the road, ran out of gears, panicked over my lack of skill, and had to walk my bike the entire second half. 

Both times, I was dying by the time I made it to the top walking. Mind you: I was in the best physical condition of my life! THAT's how hard this road is! Just walking it pissed off my hip flexor too.

When reviewing that second attempt with my coach, her first question was: "What gave out first: mind, lungs or legs?"

I thought about it. It had not been my legs or my lungs...what gave out first had been my mind. I had allowed myself to panic, to think, "I can't do this!" 

There's only so much training that you can put into your legs and lungs, but the mind? It's the one thing you truly CAN control. 

My mind had given out before my legs or lungs...

Realizing this was a game changer.

The gnarliest parts of Hamburg are The Switchback, the slope right before it, and the one right after. It's maybe a mile of the 5.8. Now, during the race, I ran out of gears long before being close to The Switchback, but this time I didn't panic. 

Training for bodybuilding involves slow, intentional reps. You WANT your muscles to burn: that's how you make them grow. It's called "time under tension." The vast majority of people cannot tolerate that: it truly feels like the area being worked is on fire. One of the things that made me extraordinary during bodybuilding training was the fact that I wouldn’t just tolerate that burn, I’d seek it out.

At my second (and last) show. That’s me on the right. This show was much bigger - one of the biggest on the East Coast. I was only one of two natural athletes in the entire thing. 

I wrote this during the prep for my last show:

"Going into the second set of lat pulldowns, that old familiar burn that I had not felt in three months swept up my arms, across my elbows, up my shoulders and down the muscles of my back with a force that made me gasp. 

"Burning?" Trainer asked. He had noticed the change in my breathing.

I nodded, continuing to keep my attention on the exercise and remembering a conversation we had had a while back:

"What's the longest a bodybuilding client has trained with you?" I had asked

He had thought about it. "A year. A lot of people want to try it, they start, then realize they can't handle the slow reps and time under tension. And they quit.” 

Because they can't handle the pain of the burn. And I had thought about it at the time, "But that's precisely what I like about it." And had wondered, "Do I like it because I have this crazy tolerance for pain?"

Now in the present I wondered, in something close to despair, "How did I use to work through this?"

And I remembered: it started with closing my eyes. 

So I closed my eyes as I pulled down on the machine handles as I felt the fire sweep up my lats. Closing my eyes meant that there was nothing that could distract me from the pain now...and instead of fighting the burn, I dove into it, spiraling down, down, down like a free-falling hawk plummeting from the skies to catch her prey.

I plunged into the depths of the burning itself and let it consume me. 

By letting the burn consume me, I was able to bear it. And I remembered why I had loved it so much: because it made me feel worked. Don't get me wrong: I hate pain, I hate being hurt. But this was different: this wasn't pain indicating damage, injury. It was a good type of pain that indicated growth, change, transformation. A phoenix bursting forth in full flight from the ashes." 

I had re-discovered that space during the long hilly rides with my friend post-Hamburg attempts. 

When the legs start to burn on the bike, I tell myself, "This is what we're going to be doing now forever so you might as well sit with the discomfort." I'm not diving into it - I'm instead going into a quiet space of stillness where I embrace the burn. That stillness keeps me from getting anxious and trying to rush. Anxiety = faster pedaling, faster heart rate, faster respirations. You'll never get to the top of a mountain like that. Giving myself permission to take my time allows my mind to go blank as my focus shifts to my breathing: 3 slow counts in, 3 slow counts out. My eyes go to a spot on the asphalt 6' in front of my bike, which aligns my spine making it easier to breathe. It also keeps me from thinking about how much farther I have to go. Instead, the only thing that exists is the present, one breath after another, one heartbeat after another, one pedal stroke after another. I hold the burn against me until it turns into smoke, evaporating. And before I know it, I've made it to the top. 

From a different day on a different hill, but same principles.

It didn't work out quite that way on Hamburg now, but thanks to that inner stillness, I stayed on my bike far longer than most of the back-of-the-pack cyclists around me. I, the rookie, ultimately rode 75% of the way up this road that is impossible even for people that have been doing this sport longer than I. I walked the slope before The Switchback and The Switchback itself, then swung a leg over my bike and completed the slope after it. 

After that, we were on the ridgeline: the road leveled out. We came to a big intersection marked with a variety of arrows for the different race distances that reminded me so much of endurance riding, it gave me goosebumps. There were plenty of spotters there too. 

I followed the arrows for the 60 mile distance, down a road I'd never before taken called Highland School Road. I saw the "Caution: sudden drop" sign at the same time that I registered the road disappearing sharply downwards in front of me. "Oh shit!" I exclaimed. I pumped my brakes once, then let go. 

It was fucking epic. I found myself zooming down the twists and turns of this new-to-me single-lane country road that wove its way through dense forest just starting to turn with fall colors. The cool early fall air supercharged my batteries..."supercharged" because my batteries had not been spent at all on that first climb, a climb that should have been the most arduous of my life. 

The end of that amazing hill 

 

This would be the trend throughout this ride. 

This race was ultimately a journey of self-discovery: I have never before felt as emotionally weak as I have this year. Since a specific event in February, I had been battling with some of the worst depressive spells of my life while also being fully aware of what was causing them. I had gradually stopped dancing, writing, taking photos, sending my friends funny memes, blasting music in the car while singing at the top of my lungs…I had slowly stopped doing all the little things that brought me joy, dropping each activity like cherry blossom petals fluttering away in the breeze. I had some of the happiest moments of my life this year, but each time, something would happen and the depression would cloak itself around me yet again. This was compounded by the fact that in my 46 years on this earth, I have overall never felt as worthless as I did this year, especially during the last two weeks leading up to the race. 

So this ride…this ride was a MASSIVE redemption for me. I discovered the tremendous strength I have both in this body with endless reserves (so long as I take care of it) and my mind when I decide I can control it. 

In the process, I recovered my sense of self-worth with a ferocity I had forgotten I have. 

When I was a toddler, my grandmother used to play this game where she’d ask me,

“What is your name?”

Me: “My name is Nicole!”

Grandma: “And who is Nicole?”

“Nicole is Nicole!” I would declare emphatically, like, “Duh. Who else would I be?”

Indeed: Nicole is Nicole, and no one can take myself from me. 

The most important person that can ever love you, is you. 
This fiery strong woman that I am? I adore her!!!
There is no one else I’d rather be. 

The route took us up and down roads that wound their way through gorgeous Frederick countryside. Soon we were making a turn through downtown Myersville onto Harp Hill Road: the second timed section of the ride.

I had driven this section of the Fondo a week prior because it was a part of the county I was not familiar with. Thanks to that, I now knew what to expect: you think you're done when you get to the second slope of the climb...only to discover around a sharp bend that the steepest portion is yet to come. 

See that rise in the distance, between the trees? That’s the first slope of Harp Hill.

I had it. I SO had it! 

Race management had been diverting traffic, but there was only so much they could do when people live on some of the roads where the Fondo was being held. When drivers did pass us, they did so aggressively. I had made it to the third slope. I was pedaling on the white line on the edge of the road, and still this one truck flew past me so close it startled me. My feet touched the ground: game over. There was no way I could get back on the bike when I was on the steepest portion of this climb. So I hiked my bike until the hill began to level out, then swung back on. 

I was DELIGHTED to realize there were professional photographers at the top! Just like at an endurance ride! My grin was genuine. I didn't look tired in the photos because I wasn't. 

The best part of Harp Hill is what comes after it: it truly makes that climb epic. The road begins a rolling descent over green hills that are more reminiscent of Tuscany than the mid-Atlantic US. I have zero photos of it from the ride because I was enjoying the moment, cruising without need for pedal strokes, the wind sweeping across my hair through the vents in my helmet. I was grinning like an idiot when a white-haired gentleman who must have been in his 70s came up on my left. His expression matched what I was feeling as he looked at our surroundings. His blue eyes twinkled, "It's beautiful, no?"

"Yes," I said, "It makes the climbing so worth it."

"Indeed it does." He cruised on ahead of me, flying on his bike down the next dip in the road. The race number on his back was light gray against a dark background: he was riding the 80 mile distance.

From my drive through that area. Just so y’all have an idea of the views I’m taking about.

One of the remarkable things about this sport is how ageless it is: some of the biggest badasses on bikes are people 10, 20, 30 years older than me. It's not just road cycling: it's a thing in mountain biking too! I just love that!

That section after Harp Hill was one of my favorites of the Medio. I was enjoying myself so much that I was completely caught by surprise when the first aid station came within view. 

In endurance riding, we have vet checks and holds for the horses, where they are trotted out to check for lameness, they receive a physical exam to make sure they are fit to continue, then get to take a break, eat and drink before continuing on with the next loop. With cycling, you don't get an exam by an MD, but you have both plain water and water with electrolytes to refill your bottles with, as well as a variety of snacks. There are also "hitching posts" of sorts for riders to hang their bikes. I found this highly amusing. 

See? Bike hitching posts! 

Coach had said to take my time at this and the third aid station; I was instructed to be as quick as possible at the 2nd aid station since it was at the halfway point and it was right before the 3rd timed section: you don't want your body to think it's time to cool down when you still have one more big climb ahead of you. 

I was there for 15 minutes. I chugged both of my water bottles (one plain water, one with electrolytes and carb powder), refilled them, took elyte capsules, and scarfed half of my almond butter + honey sandwich on whole wheat as well as a pack of Skratch gummies. I did not sit down - I do better if I pace while eating during cycling breaks. 

I roared out of the aid station onto the next portion of the Medio. 

This section involved another climb, this one not timed. The road took us up into the dense forest of Catoctin Mountain Park. This part of the ride is a bit of a blur, because there was an extremely upsetting text that nearly destroyed the perfect headspace I'd been able to sustain so far. Not only did I have to keep my mind in check now, I was also dealing with overflowing emotions. It was a really strange sensation to be wrestling with Major Feelings while my body continued pedaling on, as if on autopilot. While climbing. While climbing *forever* because I swear to God it felt like we never stopped going up, up, up through Catoctin Mountain Park.

Again: what is this body, and where did she come from??

As for my mind: she successfully wrangled my emotions into a box that could barely contain them, but it gave me room to be able to mostly focus again so long as I ignored the tears pouring down my face. Living with high-functioning anxiety + having competed for 8 years on a mare that took all negative emotions personally + working a job where stressed 4-legged patients are more sensitive to your emotions = developing an amazing ability for compartmentalizing. 

Eventually I made it to the second aid station. It was located at a side parking lot overlooking the lake and artificial beach of Cunningham Falls. It was a beautiful spot, but I barely had time to appreciate it: this was the aid station where Coach wanted me to hurry. I used the porta-john, chugged my waters, refilled my bottles, took a hit of carb gel, and continued on. 

The third timed section on Gambrill Park Road was next. 

While longer, it was easier compared to Hamburg and Harp Hill. I stayed on my bike for its entirety, except for a moment where again a driver came too close and startled me. However, I got back on and continued.  I had driven this section, and also ridden part of it before - I was familiar with the steepest of its climbs, which had not fazed me at all. I even surprised myself by still being able to pedal out of the saddle!

It wasn't long before I was on the ridge line, cruising down the forest road dappled by sunlight filtering through the trees. It had been such a beautiful day for this race: it was hot in the sun, but cool in the shade. 

Gambrill Park Road took us past the two overlooks of Frederick County, then swooped back down the other side of the mountain. 

The view from one of those overlooks on a different day. It really puts into perspective how high up we were on that ridge line. 

That was it: the most challenging parts of the course were done.

Coming off of Gambrill Park Road, the route made a sharp left onto Shookstown Rd, which was another undulating downhill section. It rode like a roller coaster!

Again I was surprised by the next (and final) aid station: I was so engrossed in the moment, I had lost complete notion of time or miles. I again finished both water bottles, refilled them, ate the second half of my sandwich and was off: only 10 more miles until the finish!

The last section of true climbs was on Indian Springs Road, which has huge rolling hills that I thought were intimidating the first time I drove them. (The truck, which I was driving, agreed by groaning.) Now, they seemed perfectly doable. 

Indian Springs Rd, taken that day I rode it in the truck. Just a visual reminder that by this point, my definition of “perfectly doable” was vastly different from what it was 4 months prior…

As I crested the last rise on Indian Springs, I came upon another older male rider, white hair on his temples under his helmet shining brightly in the sunlight. The numbers on his back (light gray against a dark background) indicated that he was one of the badasses that was doing the 80 mile course. Just like the gentleman who had passed me on Harp Hill.

He had stopped his bike at the top of the hill. I was watching him when his shoulders slumped and he leaned forward over the handlebars. It wasn't exhaustion. He was carrying so much more with him, and whatever it was had just caught up to him. 

As I came even with him, I said gently, "Just 5 more miles."

He looked up and made eye contact. It was the same gentleman that had passed me at Harp Hill! ♥️ He gave me the brightest smile as whatever it was that he was carrying vanished. I grinned back. 

"Thank you," he said, in a tone so kind, I had to turn my attention back to the course so as to not burst into tears outright myself. 

There was no one to lighten up the emotional weight I was carrying. I had to do it myself. And so I did. 

Indian Springs Road spills into the routes I started this road cycling journey on, roads that I now know like the back of my hand from having ridden them in the dark, in the rain, and under the hottest blazing sun. They are like old friends, and if you know the correct route, they will all take you back into downtown Frederick.

Thanks to this familiarity, I was flying: I effortlessly hit 23 mph pedaling on the flats. 

And then I was slowing down to make the turns towards the finish line.

I had just finished 6000' of elevation, yet my body felt like it could continue on forever. I had worked harder than I ever have in my life...but I didn't feel physically tired at all. Even more amazing: my hip flexor didn’t even hurt! 🤯 I'd completely forgotten about it until now.

Crossing the finish line was surreal. There were more photographers there. On the inside, I was shredded from the impending repercussions of that one text, but on the outside I was genuinely grinning from ear to ear as one of the race’s staff members placed a completion medal around my neck.

I did it: I completed. It took me 5 hours and 17 minutes, but I had just cycled my legs and heart out with energy to spare for longer than I’d ever gone and higher than I’d ever climbed. 

My friend was right: I really could do it! 

The truth is that I almost didn’t do it. I tried to back out of it multiple times - my friend and my coach really did have to talk me off of a ledge. (See also: feeling more worthless than I’ve ever felt in my life during the last two weeks leading up to the ride.) What had finally clinched my decision to go come hell or high water was driving the parts of the route I wasn’t familiar with: after seeing them, I decided I would do anything to ride them. 

I originally signed up due to my friend’s encouragement, because they believed I could do it. That spark lit the fire that drove my training to the extreme lengths that I took it, far beyond anything I would have dreamed possible, or that I would have elected to do of my own accord. I truly pushed my body to previously unfathomable (to me) limits during the prep for this ride. I would not have done what I did by any stretch of the imagination had it not been for my friend's initial push.  

However: I ultimately chose to proceed with this ride because in the end, I firmly believed that I, myself, could do it. 

In the process, I remembered who I am and what I’m made of - a reminder I hadn’t realized I desperately needed. Water is my favorite element because it grounds me, but I am made of fire that burns brighter, stronger and longer every time I am reborn through its flames. I am forever a phoenix. 

I spent the last 8 months convinced I was worthless. No: I am worthy. I am worthy of everything that I could ever want. 

In the end, I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone other than myself.

It worked: It’s been a week and I’m still in awe. I wasn’t even sore the next day. 

And that, my friends, is the story of how yours truly learned that not only does she have what it takes to be an endurance athlete, she has what it takes to do whatever the fuck she wants, so long as she can harness the power of her mind in order to achieve it.

Forever grateful for this body and the amazing things she allows me to do.