This past Saturday, I raced in the Harvest 50 gravel event in Zionsville, Indiana. Riders could choose between a 25-mile or 50-mile course, and I opted for the 25—a mix of 40% paved and 60% unpaved roads. Though I’d ridden the route twice before, I still felt nervous. Familiarity helped, but there's a different vibe to racing.
My first time camping was at a state park the weekend before our four-day bikepacking tour. This partial test run under the stars was an opportunity to get my feet wet and try out the gear we’d invested in: a two-person tent, sleeping pads, quilts, and a cook system.
There’s a quiet longing for friendships not yet found. Since moving to Ohio in 2019 I’ve met amazing people through my husband, our hobbies, and social events. Yet between choir rehearsals, group rides, and shared laughter, I realized that connection doesn't always lead to closeness.
Have you ever let frustration or anger dictate your decisions—only to end up feeling worse? I have, and it reminds me there’s room for growth in how I respond.
We set out to ride an imperial century—100 miles, at the Huffman Classic in Brookville, Ohio. Last year, this event marked our first metric century, and now Alex and I were determined to go farther. But as I prepared that morning, I felt a hint of doubt. My longest ride this year hadn’t even reached 50 miles. I had experience (having ridden a century last September), and the route was relatively flat, but I still felt challenged by the distance. And so began Not Quite A Century: The Ride That Was and Wasn’t.