Bikepacking is becoming a popular way to experience the outdoors. It’s basically backpacking for those who would rather pedal than walk. Here are 6 tips to keep in mind if you’re thinking about making the jump to camping on two wheels.

1. Be Patient with yourself as you figure out your system. It is more complex than stuffing everything into one backpack. You will need to feel out the best way to distribute weight between your frame bags, handlebar bags, seatpost bags, and small backpack. If you are short and don’t have much clearance between your seatpost bag and your rear tire, pack your lighter items in the back and use a Voile ski strap to cinch it even tighter against your saddle. It’s okay to bury your camping gear at the bottom of your bags since you won’t be getting it out until the end of the day -- but make sure your tent and sleeping bag are in a waterproof stuff sack or dry bag. Keep your raincoat, your ride food, and your camera easily accessible. It might take you a few days to get your packing method dialed. Go with patient friends who are okay with you being a beginner.

2. Be ready to adjust your riding style to your bike’s new weight and limitations. It won’t maneuver quite as easily, so be prepared to walk sections of trail you might normally ride. Be aware of where the majority of your weight is and think about how that might affect your bike. If lots of weight is in the rear, be aware of your load hitting your tire on bumpy trails if you're riding a full suspension bike. If lots of weight is in the front, you'll have a harder time getting your front end up and over obstacles.

3. Focus on finding inspiring camp spots and make camp with plenty of time to experience them. As a beginner, you may feel tired during your day of riding and need to focus on turning your pedals. My favorite days on the bike are when I leave myself time at the end of the day to go exploring, make a good nutritious dinner, relax at camp, and generally enjoy my surroundings.

Make sure to “sweep” the area under your tent to clear out any rocks, pine cones, or other poky things that might interrupt a good night’s sleep. Bring a little notebook or use the notepad on your phone to record your experiences and take notes as you learn so you can implement them next time you pack up your bike bags. Take photos. Enjoy the place you’ve worked so hard to get to.
​

Save your headlamps for adventurous night missions: this inflatable lantern is the ticket for after dark tent musings, card games and meeting that work deadline you nearly forgot.

I was camped out in the high desert above Sedona, Arizona, swapping stories after mountain biking with some newfound friends and fellow vandwellers, when I suddenly remembered I had some writing to do. I was giving a talk at an event and needed to finish the first draft of my presentation. I excused myself to my van, turned on my headlamp and got to work, silently lamenting the fact that I hadn't changed my batteries in quite some time.

Five minutes went by and there was a knock on my door. In popped the head of Craig, a 67 year old full time adventurer who had been camping every day for seven years. He had a gift for me: an Mpowerd Luci, the inflatable solar lantern. He supposedly had many, and was happy to pass one on. I blew it up, clicked the switch and instantly my little room transformed into a productive working studio. I hung my tired headlamp back on its hook and cranked out my rough draft in time to rejoin my friends for a nightcap.

Since then, my gifted Luci has become a standard item for not only my daily van camping life, but also for my bikepacking and backpacking trips. It packs down to the size of a large chocolate chip cookie (also on my standard pack list) and is flexible enough to slide into the side of any bag I choose. Clip it to the outside of my pack as I go about my day, or stick it in the windshield of my van, and it keeps my nighttime exploits lit up for a full 12 hours.

For the creatively inspired, Luci comes in many colors, and also in a frosted tone to add mood lighting to those romantic fireside tent dinners when you actually want to see your food on its way to your mouth. For the philanthropic types, Mpowerd works with NGOs to send lights to impoverished areas without electricity and you can help empower people in these areas with your Luci purchase. It retails for 17.95 to 24.95 depending on your preferences, and can be found online or at REI.

For years I had a mental block around the idea of teaching. I shied away from putting myself in the spotlight, often with the attitude that “no one would really want to learn anything from me anyways.” Even though, during all the professional positions I’ve held through the years – from avalanche instructor to physical therapist to bike coach – I have been in a teaching role and excelled at it. When an employer or organization required it, I stepped up to the plate. And teaching has always been my favorite part of any position I’ve held.

But on my own, without the validation of a role given to me by someone else, I wasn’t putting myself out there. I was afraid to own that role for myself. And what happened was I felt frustrated and stifled.

Finally, about a year ago, I realized that I was not doing anything good for the world by staying silent. I have a lot of knowledge in my brain and in my body from countless hours of both education and life experience, from throwing myself into the deep end and sometimes learning to swim, sometimes flailing and needing to grab a life raft. I would be doing the world and myself a disservice by not sharing my experiences and my knowledge with people in a way that is relatable, empowering, and inspiring – in the hope that something somewhere in my brain might help out another person on their journey.

So I started finding creative ways to teach outside my traditional means. I started putting my writing out to bigger audiences. I started sharing my experiences and my education in a genuine attempt to just get more knowledge out into the world. And most importantly – I finally started setting a good example.

In the spirit of putting my money where my mouth is, I am launching a new business website and Facebook page today, after a year of intense exploration and one week shy of my 34th birthday. Vital Motion is a product of my ten years of experience and expertise as a physical therapist, a performance coach, and a professional athlete. It is a home base for my coaching services, but more importantly, it is a place where I can freely share my voice with the world in a way that is helpful, useful, and interactive. I’ve been through a lot and I’ve learned a lot, and I am an open book. I want to know how I can best use my voice to serve my community and my world.  

This website, my athlete page, will be evolving as well. :) 
​
We ALL have something valuable to share. Every single person on this planet has had a unique life experience, and at the same time, we are all enough alike that anything we share can be useful to those around us. We all have a unique voice. It’s time we own it, and start using it as a tool for good in this world. It’s never too early, or too late. In fact, now is right on time.

www.vitalmotioncoaching.com
www.facebook.com/vitalmotioncoaching
​

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can change my life." 

I am living in northern Vermont at the moment, taking a little break from my extra-long racing season I've had and taking the opportunity to get back into physical therapy for a bit. I'm doing a short-term travel therapy contract with a home health care provider, so I'm going into people's homes and helping them regain function, usually after having a major surgery or hospitalization. I am grateful for this opportunity. Being of service in this way keeps me grounded and reminds me that there is still a "real" side to my sometimes fantasy-world lifestyle. It also helps me  to connect and apply everything I've learned as an athlete to other life situations. 

As a coach, I teach mindset work to people all the time. It makes an enormous difference on the bike. I've seen people (including myself) talk themselves out of a bad race and into a good race, even when it seems everything is going wrong. And I've seen the opposite as well. But sometimes I forget how powerful words can be in ALL areas of life, and when I get off my bike it rarely crosses my mind.  I have been working this physical therapy contract now for about three weeks, and I am already grateful to one man for reminding me of the tremendous power of simple words.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I am seeing an older gentleman who is pushing 90 years old. We'll call him John. He is a 20 year military veteran, father, grandfather, great-grandfather. In his younger days he loved to climb mountains and ride motorcycles. Now, he has trouble sitting up straight in his recliner and getting around his house with his walker and his oxygen tank, but he still loves to go out on his front porch and look across the horizon to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. He's a little hard of hearing, but his eyes, like his mind, are still sharp. 

John has a caregiver who comes to look after him a few days a week. She is well-intentioned, but uncomfortably harsh. In the first few times I came to see John, she would say things like "Oh John, look at you, you're always being lazy, slumping and hanging your head. Sit up." And I would watch John, a once proud military commander, look down in embarrassment and slump further. When I would take him out to walk and exercise, he would sometimes get hung up on his oxygen line, and I would hear in the background "John, you're so clumsy."

I don't think this caregiver was intentionally being mean, I just think she likely is naturally critical and isn't aware of the effect. But it was obviously affecting John. He would literally shrink before my eyes each time she said something critical. In our first few visits, he was hesitant to let me do much with him. At first I thought it was because he was afraid of falling, but when he started to make comments like "Oh, I won't be any good at that," I knew it was something different. 

So I decided to do a little experiment. Each time I came to work with John, I made sure to say encouraging things. Each time I noticed him lift his head in his chair just a little, I would take notice and say "John, your posture is awesome, I can tell you've been working on it!" And John would smile and straighten up a little more. When we tried a simple marching exercise, I complimented him on how high he was raising his knees, and he joked that he's had plenty of practice as he pulled his shoulders back while holding on to my hands for balance.

Every chance I got, I pointed out where John was succeeding, even if it was tiny. Pretty quickly, each time I came to visit, I felt like I was seeing a different man. His eyes lit up when I walked in, and he would do his best with whatever I asked. He would still get frustrated when he "screwed up," but with gentle reminders followed by quick encouragement, he started becoming more open to trying new things. 

Yesterday, after three weeks, John let me teach him to two-step. I often use "dance therapy" for balance and strength training when I work with older people, as dance seems to have been much more a part of their culture than it is in ours today. Often, they have danced before, and it is neat to see their muscle memory take over even if their brain memory may be fading.

At first John had trouble with the pattern, stepped on his oxygen line, and I had to catch him as he lost his balance moving backwards. He immediately hung his head, returning to "I'm not good at this, I think I should go back to my chair." I looked him in the eyes and said "John, do you really say no when a pretty lady asks you to dance?" He laughed, regained his frame, and focused his full attention on learning the moves. When I left, he was sitting straight in his chair, his eyes bright and his demeanor alert. And I had a little chat with his caregiver about being mindful with words. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In sport, we hear and tell ourselves and others encouraging things all the time. (At least I hope we all do.) Sport is an easy place to understand that a positive mindset and encouraging words make a big difference. In the photo above, it was easy for me to give myself a pep talk when I'm clinging to the side of a slippery cliff in the dark wearing bike shoes. Getting negative or critical could have dire consequences. But what about in the rest of life? What about the more "mundane" things- our work, home projects, everyday life stuff? What about those of us trying to take on unconventional or challenging projects that really test us? I'm not saying we all need a pep talk when it comes to sweeping the floors, but how much are we criticizing vs encouraging ourselves and others on a daily basis? 

It may sound silly, but try noticing and expressing genuine appreciation for little things: how shiny the glasses look after your kid, or your partner, does the dishes- especially if they don't do it very often. Thank someone if something they posted on social media made you laugh when you really needed it, or resonated with you in some way. Try giving genuine compliments to people when you notice how hard they work, or how creative their ideas are, or how they are especially talented in one thing or another. Especially if you know a certain thing is challenging for an individual, be aware of when you notice them making progress, and say something. Even if it's small. It could make someone's day, or it could change their entire outlook.

I have been in relationships where my partner was extremely critical, and it was all I could do to rise above it and not let it crush me. I have also been fortunate enough to have great friends who have known exactly when to encourage me when I'm reaching for something that at times may seem crazy or unattainable, and often it is that extra little push that I really needed that gives me a second wind and gets me over the hump. 

​~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We need to shift our focus to what we DO want, not what we DON'T want. Appreciate the good things about the people in our lives instead of searching for the bad. If you want your 90 year old grandfather to sit up straighter, don't harp on them for slumping, compliment them each time you notice them putting in effort. If you know someone is going after something challenging, go out of your way to tell them exactly WHY you know they can do it. If you want your dog to bring you the stick, don't yell at them for "never" bringing you the stick, be super happy with them when they do. (Yep, I just compared people to dogs. We all respond to positive reinforcement- and it's super obvious when you see it working in animals.) 

Above all- we need to be kind. And apologize when we're not. No one is perfect- I write this for myself as much as anyone. But if we all could keep in the back of our minds how powerful words really are, this world would be a much happier place. <3

I've had a bit of a hiatus from the blog posting recently! Like, a year... oops. :-o

But, I've been up to a lot. Last year was a big turning point for me. We'll call it a year of "life education." I'm still riding, training, and racing a lot. Being an athlete is still a huge part of my life. But as my life evolves, so does my need for creative movement. I have always been drawn to the unknown, and when things get too comfortable, I need to shake them up. And so it goes.

A brief synopsis of what I've been up to in the past year:

I jumped off the deep end and "retired" from being a full-time year round physical therapist last year. I've been studying and practicing physical therapy for ten years, so it was a big leap, but it was one that was pressing. I love the work, and loved my Gunnison clinic home Heights Performance, but I hate the American healthcare system machine. I don't believe in it, and I do not want to be a part of bolstering it any longer- at least not full-time year round. Combining that with opportunities that presented themselves in my athlete life, it was time for a change.

I officially launched my company, Vital Motion Coaching. There's now a tab for it in the headline of this website. Check it out. :) It is my passion project turned business.

I left beautiful Colorado, which has been my home for nearly fifteen years. I bought, converted, and moved into a van (which has always been a dream of mine) and spent the summer in the Pacific Northwest and British Columbia, racing, skills coaching, and just riding my bike a lot. I have always dreamed of spending time in BC, and it was everything I thought it would be. Stunning. I will certainly be back.

I took an even bigger leap and moved myself, my bike, and Cody Oats (my huge Shepherd dog) to Guatemala for 6 months in the off-season and... rode my bike a lot. And met some amazing people, and had some really crazy experiences. I think I'm still in shock from it all (in a good way). I'll write a book about it someday. Take home message: Everyone should, if you are able to, spend time, real time, in a developing country. Unless you hide inside with a bag over your head, it will change you forever.

I've been CRAVING education this past year. And I've been learning a lot of things:

I've been mountain bike skills coaching under the amazing Lindsey Voreis for the past few years, and finally last summer I took a PMBI instructor trainer course from Paul Howard in Whistler, BC. It was amazing to be able to put an official structure and flow to all the information I'd been learning from Lindsey. Then I basically spent all summer coaching at skills camps and small group clinics, honing the techniques I'd learned from the PMBI course.

I've been taking continuing education courses and devouring every book, podcast, expert presentation, and interview I can get my hands on in the subjects of writing, pitching your writing, sports psychology, performance coaching, the role mindset plays in rehabilitation and performance, and the business of starting your own business. All completely fascinating.

I learned how to complete a relationship in the most beautiful (and heartbreaking) way- with mutual respect, kindness, and support for the other's, and my own, individual paths.

I got invited to be one of the featured athletes in riding for an adventure fat bike film, Off the Beaten Path, in Iceland! I spent two weeks there last summer, and it was incredible. Watching the film brought to life gave me chills. It was a dream come true that I never even knew I had. And I've made new friends that I'm sure I'll have forever.

I learned Spanish. Sort of. ;)

I learned who NOT to trust my heart and my life to. Long story- I'm glad that was over quickly. Whew.

I learned how to be a good teammate in duos adventure racing. I've always been independent to a fault, and said I would never do it. But I did it. It was awesome. And then I wrote about it... which lead to...

I became a published writer for the first time- a HUUUUUGE dream I've always had! I wrote for Outside Magazine's online segment- OutsideOnline. Check it out here: Balancing Independence and Teamwork

I took all my experience as an endurance mountain bike racer and a backcountry skier/ski mountaineer, put it together and "learned" how to plan and execute an expedition of my own. I teamed up with a professional photographer/videographer Brendan James and some great sponsors (Fatback Bikes, Lauf Forks, Gore Bike Wear, and Julbo Eyewear) for an expedition/media project to fatbike volcanoes in Guatemala. I got my ass handed to me so many times in those three weeks, and had an incredible experience. My heart and my eyes were opened in ways I never could have imagined. You'll all read about it soon- in glossy, beautiful print form with beautiful images. The story be published in Mountain Flyer Magazine in June! :) More writing, yay! This consumed my life for a month and I loved it.

Most recently, I learned (am still learning) how to edit video! Brendan does this for a living, so he's teaching me (the beginner crash course in) how to use Adobe Premiere. I'm pretty proud of this- it's the "pro method," hehe. No iMovie for this gal.

Knowing how to edit video will be really helpful in growing Vital Motion Coaching, as a lot of what I do is online, and I can't wait to share what I've been learning in all my coaching/rehabilitation education with all of you!

Below is my little movie from the skills clinic I coached last weekend in Tennessee. I'm pretty proud of my first attempt- and of my athletes!

Soooo, where am I at now? Living the Van Life, making my way up the East Coast, racing and coaching my way from Georgia to Vermont. I've been all around the world, but never to the eastern US, so I figured it was about time! Next stop, Pennsylvania for the Transylvania Epic Stage Race.

Follow my adventures on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, and please holler if I'm in your area- I would love to meet and ride with as many people as I can this summer! :)

Happy trails,

Liz

I had surgery to repair my shoulder in the fall of 2013. This morning, I spent a good chunk of time on the phone between my health insurance company, the billing department of a provider who was involved in my accident and surgery last year, and, unfortunately, a collections agency. As a healthcare provider, I deal with insurance companies and billing departments all the time. Sometimes it’s going through the motions, sometimes it’s frustrating and annoying and takes up the time I would rather be spending on something else. But it has always been from the outside. 

Last year, for the first time, I had the experience of being a patient in the healthcare system with a major claim, in contrast to my usual experience of being a provider. My surgery costs for my shoulder repair, all said and done, were over thirty thousand dollars. Fortunately, I had health insurance- which I keep independently; it is not tied to a job or employer. Having this supposedly keeps my personal costs down in the event of an accident. However, it is not an easy road. My surgery was a year and a half ago, and I am still sweeping up the last bits of getting my claim covered. Because of the intricacies of the US healthcare system, for better or for worse, there are many hands in the proverbial pot- too many, one may argue. And this may be the case. But, at the heart of the issue, I feel, is the all too common lack of patient awareness, autonomy and responsibility. And through this, we have created a culture that breeds too much cynicism and not enough compassion.

Although this little journey through the healthcare system as a patient has been time-consuming, I am grateful for many things. First and foremost, I am grateful that I AM a healthcare provider and I KNOW things about the system that most people don’t. This has made the road easier for me, I am sure. People love to complain about the healthcare system in the US- and I am no angel; I have certainly been guilty of that myself. As a provider, I have seen patients AND providers alike truly get “screwed” by the system. But, having the inside knowledge that I do, I have been able to navigate the shark-infested waters with more patience and persistence than most. 

As strange as it sounds, I am also grateful for this experience for the experience itself. I have said many times before that the physical, mental, and emotional experiences of the accident, injury and surgery themselves have given me deeper perspective and made me a stronger, smarter, and more compassionate healthcare provider, coach, and athlete. As well, the experience of dealing with the healthcare system from the "other side” has given me a better perspective of what so many of my patients, clients, and friends go through when dealing with the system. It puts me in a better position to help. And it gives me a good opportunity to practice personal responsibility without becoming cynical. 

I felt compelled to write down some very basic things this morning regarding the "logistics” side of dealing with an injury and the healthcare system. They come from my experiences as both a healthcare provider and as a patient. If it helps even one person, it is worth sharing my thoughts. 

1. Take personal responsibility for choosing your healthcare options. I hear people EVERY DAY, in person, on the street, on Facebook, talking about their healthcare with a victim mentality. They say things like “my healthcare is so expensive through my employer, I can barely afford to pay rent.” Or “I can’t take this job, they don’t offer health insurance benefits.” Or- the WORST- “I can’t leave this soul-sucking job that I hate because the health insurance benefits are so good.” People!!! It doesn’t have to be this way! There are choices. YOU have choices. Yes, some of them aren't ideal and some of them suck. Some of you may feel “trapped” in the healthcare system because you have families depending on you, pre-existing conditions, health problems, etc. I am in no way denying that sometimes, your situation may be such that you are honestly stuck between a rock and a hard place when it comes to healthcare. But it is not always that way. The outlook is NOT always as bleak as you feel it might be. You owe it to yourself to thoroughly research and examine all your options. So many people I talk to have not- they have no idea, they just accept what they are handed. 

For my health insurance, I went through an independent broker to get what I needed. I was completely up-front and honest with him during our phone conversation. I told him what I wanted my insurance to do for me, what I did NOT want or need, and the bottom line of what I was willing to pay. He listened, he did his research, and he presented me with his options which I then researched. I ended up buying a policy where I pay a total of $170 per month for basic major medical insurance with a high deductible, and also an additional “accident rider” which pays out to cover my deductible in the event of an accident. (If you would like more details, or the name of my broker, feel free to contact me and I am happy to share.) 


My policy has everything I need, and nothing I don’t. Most people, when I tell them I pay that amount, think it’s crazy cheap. Some think it’s too expensive. I say it’s personal choice. Because I am generally healthy, prefer alternative medicine when needed, and have no pre-existing conditions or children; but I do participate in a high-risk sport as part of my career and lifestyle, I chose the insurance that I did. I chose to acquire it independently and not through an employer. The key is that it was MY CHOICE. Don’t just take what you are handed. Even if your choice is to go with no health insurance for whatever your reasons are. Know your options, know the details, and CHOOSE. And be satisfied with your choice.  

2. Take personal responsibility when you are dealing with a claim. Even if the provider may be the one filing the claim for us, it is STILL our responsibility to follow up, and not just rely on the provider’s billing department to file the claim correctly, or the insurance company to pay everything it’s supposed to when it’s supposed to. Yes, it would be nice to assume that everyone is punctual and competent at their jobs and everything will always flow smoothly- but that is not always the case. When dealing with MY healthcare, it is MY responsibility to ensure that my case is moving along through the correct channels. I am lucky because as a provider, I know what this involves. But if you aren’t, and you don’t know right away, it’s okay. It’s not rocket science; you can learn about your care and your plan. Don't feel stupid; ask questions. The only stupid thing is to put your blinders on. It is your responsibility to learn. It is your responsibility to know who is involved in your case, and to keep the lines of communication open with and between them to make sure your case is handled properly. 

3. When annoyances happen- and they will- we need to do our best not to become cynical and especially mean to the people we are dealing with. Yes, we need to be persistent and at times firm. But we also need to remember that the person at the other end of the line is still a person, with a brain and a heart. The healthcare system is inefficient and not always ethical. But just like it is important to remember that the government of a country doesn’t necessarily define its individual people, also the culture of healthcare doesn’t necessarily define its workers- whether that is your surgeon, therapist, or the person on the other end of the line at the insurance company who may speak broken English. I make a point to see the good in people, and I like to assume everyone is doing their best to do their jobs. They deal with upset and injured or sick people all of the time. It can be exhausting, and you never know when you may make someone’s day brighter just by using a friendly tone of voice and saying “Thank you for helping me.” 

As a provider and a patient, I have found the best approach to getting what you want is to be aware of the details of your healthcare and your insurance plan, be persistent and take personal responsibility for making sure your case gets handled correctly, and above all- be kind. Find the silver lining in your experience, even if it seems nothing but dark and stormy. If nothing else, be grateful for your troubles because they teach you compassion for others- and the world could certainly use more of that. 

I have just returned from Guatemala and El Reto del Quetzal, just under a week ago. Wow. The thoughts are there… so many of them… but it will take some time to process so many experiences into tangible sentences and paragraphs.

In this blog post (Full Circle), I talked about my journey from professional vagabond to professional athlete, and my dreams of traveling the world in a different way. I also talked about my fears… there were so many of them. And I left you with this quote from Goethe:

"Until one is committed... 
there is hesitancy... 
the chance to draw back... 
always
Ineffectiveness. 

Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans... 

That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising on one's favor all manners of unforeseen incidents, meetings, and materials assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. 

Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it: boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." 

Well, I committed and threw myself all in with my eyes and heart wide open. And Goethe’s words certainly rang true for me. 

I started my travels five days before El Reto began, when I arrived into Antigua, Guatemala. I went into my trip with trepidation, shaken somewhat by words of warning from well-meaning people and consequently trying to control too many variables last-minute so that I would feel safe. And at first, though every second of my five-days before the race was planned and prepared, I did not feel safe. I was on edge.

Then, things going not exactly the way I had planned or wished them to compelled me to spontaneously cut my ties to my perceived veil of safety and control, and jump. I jumped out of my plans, commitments, and hotel reservations, and onto a pickup truck of all places that took me out of the city and up into the hills, to begin the experiences that I was supposed to have, that life had waiting for me in Guatemala if only I would let go and listen. And strangely enough, I felt more safety and peace when I set myself free than I did when I was holding on to control. 

If you let go and listen… to your heart, your intuition, the person you met in the cafe who gives you a random idea or recommendation, to the sounds of your wheels on the cobblestones… you will, no doubt, pass through those secret destinations of your journey. Being fully present and conscious of your footsteps, even if you started this journey with no intentions of having a life altering experience, fate may shock you… "your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness.”
 

I love my life. LOVE it. I love the direction I have created and I feel no need to change a thing. I did not begin this journey expecting, wanting, or needing a life-changing experience. I know myself, my strengths and my weaknesses, things that continually challenge me and things that come blissfully easy to me which I can freely share with others. I know that I am strong, capable, and independent. I am not trying to “find myself" as I did when I was younger and on the road. Still… travel, especially solo travel, has a way of creeping in and getting under your skin to bring greater clarity to your self and your life. It may not change your life, but if you are open to it, it may change you.

I saw and felt experiences and emotions I never would have dreamed of. I ran the full spectrum between the dichotomies of strangling fear and pure love. I raced my bike through the Guatemalan countryside, through tiny villages and big cities, through fields and mountains, up and down the steepest roads and trails I have ever seen in my entire life. I had the experience of being the only female racing sola, alongside and against strong and talented men from Guatemala and around the world.

And I was reminded, once again, that the best things in life aren't things. 

I experienced moments during the race itself that would never, ever happen in the USA, wild and beautiful and yes- scary. I plunged headfirst into a type of riding in one stage- urban downhill- that had kept me awake at night with nerves, and trusted my skills and my instincts to get me through. I hung on for dear life and turned myself inside out at the end of a long hard day of racing as local athletes, now friends, led me safely through a busy Guatemalan city at warp speed.

I experienced moments of giddy post-race happiness and also shared vulnerability with a young and talented Guatemalan female athlete, a raw connection around the struggles we all share through simply being humans, though we had only just met and only kind-of spoke each other’s languages. So different- but so similar.

I felt clarity, once again, on what racing my bicycle truly means to me and why I do it. I was psyched to finish 8th place in a competitive solo field of all men- but as I turned myself inside out on the tough climbs and rode with intense focus and aggressive finesse on the wild descents, I realized I wasn't really racing them, or the times of the other women in the duos race, or even myself. I race because it brings me life. It shows me who I am. 

I made my way in a completely foreign culture on my own. I functioned in a language I hadn’t spoken in a decade. I gave my trust to people I barely knew. I put my trust in myself when it really mattered. And I learned how much love, power, and inspiration I, and others, were truly capable of giving and receiving. 

I came away from this time of travel both inspired and humbled by the people I met and the experiences I had, both in the race and in my time of solo wandering. I have much to share, when the best way of sharing it comes to me. Some on this blog, some through photos, and some, with any luck, through avenues that may reach more people than the scope I have alone. Stay tuned.

And what for the questions I had about my “end goal” of traveling abroad to race being met, fulfilled, and satisfied? Not even close. This experience only deepened my love for the beauty of the world and all its freaky people- to paraphrase Michael Franti. And riding and racing my bike is, for me, the way I experience myself and the world most clearly and completely. As long as this chapter in my book remains open, I will continue to write page after page, until I decide it is time to pull the curtain.

I will give only one piece of advice: If you are considering traveling for travel’s sake, or chasing your passion across the world, but have fears of doing it or doing it alone or even of not doing it and regretting it… just go. Find a way… there is always a way. Find your way, whether it is by bicycle or backpack, with others or alone, and go, with your eyes and heart wide open. The world is still a wild and wonderful place, and people everywhere are still full of love… and so are you, even if you don’t know it. Go. You will not regret it. 

Onward… 

When I moved to Crested Butte last year, I had ambitions of getting back into ski mountaineering after a five-year hiatus, and also of making backcountry skiing a bigger part of my life again. I used to ski every chance I got. There is nothing like going into the mountains under your own power, with only the things you need on your back, and enjoying the beauty and solitude of the mountains under their quiet blanket of snow. Not to mention the thrilling adventure of climbing a steep ribbon of snow up a mountain face with cliff walls on either side, and flying through bottomless powder that at times makes it hard to breathe. 

Last winter, two things happened: 1) I had shoulder surgery and couldn't use my left arm for much, for the majority of the winter and 2) I realized that access to the bigger mountains around Crested Butte can be long and difficult, as town happens to be literally at the end of the road in the winter, and a lot of the access involves a long road approach. I don't have a snowmobile and have no plans to get one, as I think they are noisy, stinky, expensive to maintain, a really big anchor (I prefer to keep life simple so I can pick up and go whenever I want) and bad for the environment. Now, I don't think badly of people who do use them- I am bad for the environment in many of my own ways. This is just not one of them. 

So, seeing as how I am not going to be purchasing a snowmobile in the foreseeable future, I spent last winter scheming about how I could access the mountains while at the same time still maintaining the value I see in quiet travel, and maybe making it to my destination a little quicker than just walking. Fat biking seemed like a natural choice for me- I can access my winter playground while getting in some base miles in training for mountain bike season. Plus bikes are fun, and I love riding them. So... why not? 

This winter I was lucky enough to land a sponsorship from Fatback Bikes, a company out of Alaska that is on the cutting edge of fat bike technology. This is ALL they do- and they do it well. They sent me a Corvus, their new full carbon fatbike. With a SRAM XO1 buildup and an upgrade in tires the bike weighs in at just under 28 lbs. The Corvus is an awesome bike- it handles really well in the snow, it's responsive, and it definitely can get me places that my regular 29er mountain bike cannot. I've had the bike for a couple of weeks now, and I've been learning a ton about how fat bikes work and what their capabilities are. As it turns out, it's a whole different animal than regular mountain biking! 

Here are a few basic things about fat biking I learned through Ride #1, which happened to be the local Winter Growler race at Hartman Rocks in Gunnison:

1. Pogies are ESSENTIAL if you're living/riding in winter. It is regularly below zero here, and I've ridden in the thickest ski mittens I have and still frozen my hands off. A pair of these Dogwood Designs pogies did the trick nicely- now I can ride in the same gloves that I use for backcountry skinning. (Score one for using the same equipment for bike/ski). Check out this great article from Bikepackers Magazine on pogie options, as well as heaps of other great info about using bikes for long-distance travel in winter or summer.

2. I ride in heavy winter boots, and I like it that way. For one, I am not going to shell out $350 for winter cycling boots. Knowing my feet, they would still not be warm enough. I've been curious, but that would be a really expensive "test run." Also, I have learned that when you are fatbiking in a snowy place like the Gunnison Valley, chances are you are going to end up hiking and pushing your bike through some deep snow. Fat bikes float great over well packed and even moderately packed terrain, depending on tire size, but they are not skis. I've spent multiple rides already, while experimenting with what my bike can do, getting a little overambitious and ending up wallowing through deep snow. Because my winter boots come up to my knees, my feet stay dry and warm no matter what I'm riding or pushing through. They also stay warm when I'm riding in -20 degree temps. (Yes, that happens here- regularly.) 

3. Tires make a HUGE difference! My bike came with a set of Maxxis tires that probably would have been great for snowy road riding, but again the snow is deep, soft, and plentiful here, and I could tell midway through the first lap during the Winter Growler race that they were not the right tool for the job. So I upgraded. I am running a 45Nrth Dilinger (5") in the front and a Surly Nate (3.8") in the rear. Both have great grip, and the Dilinger especially is very floaty. At some point I may put one in the rear... we'll see.  Massive thanks to Rock n' Roll Sports for setting me up with these tires. 

4. Riding a bike in the snow exposes  your weaknesses, leaves little room for error, and makes you a much better rider. When you are riding off road and have a very narrow track on which to ride, you can't slip off the track or you'll end up buried in the deep snow. Then, getting back on is VERY difficult. On my first ride in the Winter Growler race there was maybe a 6" strip of snow that was packed enough to ride on, and I kept getting distracted and slipping off to the side, and then getting frustrated when I couldn't get back on and had to spend time postholing through the deep snow while pushing my bike along the track- especially when I saw other people riding it with no trouble! I was very glad I was wearing my tall snow boots. Since then, I have learned to really keep my focus on where I want to go (the trail ahead of me), not getting distracted, and at times moving slowly enough that my tires don't slip, like on steeper climbs. I'm also getting better at staying loose and letting the bike move around underneath me, especially on steep downhills where there is loose snow, maybe ruts from skis, variable conditions, and a narrow track. Just like on a mountain bike but even more so, it is really important to stay relaxed and balanced over the bike while it dances around underneath you, and staying calm if you feel the wheels start to slip or go off the track. 

Yesterday, I did a trial run with my bike and current bag system plus my ski touring and mountaineering equipment. I headed up one of the roads heading north out of Crested Butte to access some ski terrain that most people take snowmobiles to. It was a super fun day, somewhat hilarious, and I learned heaps about what works well in my current system and what I need to change. Stay tuned for another post about the adventure of learning to travel in the winter by bike! 

When I was twenty years old, I fulfilled a lifelong dream: I left my comfortable life behind and moved out of the country. I gave the middle finger to every single reason I shouldn't, or couldn't; all the nagging fears and doubts and thoughts of "what the hell are you doing moving halfway across the world by yourself," and I spent much of 2003 living in New Zealand. I lived mostly in my 1983 Holden Commodore station wagon with the steering wheel on the right, my kiddie crib mattress squished to one side of the behemoth-like land yacht and my skis and climbing gear on the other side. 

This experience changed my life. When I returned to the US, I knew I wasn't done. The unknown was now the known, and my deep-seated desire to wander the world in search of adventure and experience was firmly cemented in the core of my being. Despite the junkshow misadventures I had that year that inevitably come with being a rookie traveler, I not only survived but thrived, and I was hooked on hurling myself outside my comfort zone, on testing my resourcefulness, creativity, and courage, and on the exhilaration I felt from being completely alone in a strange place. 

I knew that travel would always be a part of my life. I made it a priority to put myself in situations where I could take off for long periods of time, alone or with a companion, and I had incredible experiences all over Europe, in Thailand, and in British Columbia. Every two years I would go on extended vacation, vagabonding across some far-off part of the globe that usually involved some sort of outdoor adventure, living in cars, eating, sharing deep belly laughs and intense conversations with strangers who were so different yet so similar to me, and random wandering through city streets and over high mountain passes, eyes wide with wonder and adoration for the incredible world we live in. 

When I made the decision in early 2012 to put everything else in my life on the back burner to pursue professional bike racing, I knew that travel would have to be included in this. No more leaving a job or taking a sabbatical from life for weeks or months on end to become a vagabond. When I make up my mind to do something, I don't half-ass it. I'm all in. All of my extra time, energy, money, and other resources were going to be devoted to this pursuit. 

In the back of my mind, my goal, though it seemed so far away, was to someday find a way to combine mountain bike racing and international travel- to find a way to combine my passion for wandering the world with my passion for racing bikes, and make it sustainable in a way that wouldn't find me scrimping and barely scraping by in life in order to go on a trip. I also wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't be for me alone, but that would inspire other people to find that thing, that secret passion that shows up in their dreams when they're not constrained by reality, that thing that makes their heart sing and their world set on fire, and go after it. (You know, that thing.)

And finally... three years after I shelved one passion for another, things have come full circle. I have finally worked myself into a position where I am lucky enough to combine the two. I just booked a flight to Guatemala (!!!!!!), and in less than two months, I will board a plane to fly over the big drink for the first time with my bike, for a race. Just like my first time over ten years ago, I will travel alone. 

It's funny how my fears and doubts about stepping into the unknown as a thirty-something woman are so different than the ones that I had as a twenty-something girl. My five year hiatus from travel has taken a toll on my free-spirited nature; it has been interesting to observe the complicated dialogue in my brain happening now that was not there when travel was a consistent part of my life. My safety as a woman traveling alone is a concern. Entering a multi-day bike race where I have to perform at my best in a completely foreign situation is a concern. Logistics are a concern. "Will I succeed?" is a concern. There is an element of fear within me that has never been there before. I close my eyes and try to remember the feelings that I used to have, in my twenties when I would excitedly jump across the globe into the unknown at my first opportunity, without hesitation or even a second thought. Though the memories are faintly there, the feelings have faded. 

Still, there is this: something I have always believed, something I have found to be true throughout my life. Something that has always inspired me to jump, even though I may not really know if I will land on solid ground: 

"Until one is committed... 
there is hesitancy... 
the chance to draw back... 
always
Ineffectiveness. 


Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans... 


That the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising on one's favor all manners of unforeseen incidents, meetings, and materials assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. 


Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it: boldness has genius, power, and magic in it." 

So, once again, a little older and maybe wiser this time, I am heeding the words of Goethe. I have committed. All in, one hundred percent- the only way I know how. I am so excited to have my passions come full circle and to have my dreams of traveling abroad to race my bike become a reality. Though the road hasn't always been easy, I am finally accomplishing what I set out to do. 

I am incredibly grateful to so many people for supporting me in this adventure, from the beginning stages to now. Especially Donny, who "met" me just as I was making this unconventional commitment in my life and has never held me back from pursuing this path. And Alison; without her influence in my life I wouldn't even be racing a bike, much less successfully. I am grateful for my few and true friends who stuck with me four years ago when I decided to uproot my comfortable life, get on the crazy bus and leave "normal" far behind- you know who you are. I am grateful for all those who told me "you can't, that's stupid, why would you do that, what are you thinking?" There is nothing that makes me more fiercely determined than telling me I can't. Guess what? You were wrong.

Finally, I am so grateful for my racing sponsors whose support is making it possible for me to go out on a limb, to take chances, to create, to fall in love over and over again with what I have the privilege to do, to live this life, and to share it with the world. Thank you, with all of my heart. 

I leave for Guatemala in less than two months. I hope that this is only the beginning-  the first of many experiences wandering through the world racing my bike. Thank you all for your support in following, and taking part in, my adventures. I can't wait to share it all with you!