Why I Ride

Remember that part in the movie “Forrest Gump” where Forrest takes off running from one side of the country to the other and back again and is gone for over 3 years? People who saw him asked if he was running for world peace or the environment or women’s rights. His response was simple: “I just felt like running.”

I never thought that much about that part of the movie or Forrest’s answer until about three years ago when I did my first long-distance bicycle ride. I’d been going through a bit of a personal crisis and felt like I was at the end of my rope. Then one morning I started thinking about how my dad used to always joke about riding his bike to Lincoln, MT. I’d always told him he was crazy. But that day I just got it in my head that I was going to try to do it. Three months later, on the first day of August 2010, I rolled into Lincoln on my mountain bike absolutely exhausted—but completely inspired by what I had done.

The next summer I biked to Lincoln again, this time riding the highway the entire way and not taking Stemple Pass. Last summer, in 2012, I did the “Tour de Lincoln.” I rode to Lincoln on one day, spent the night there, and rode home the following day for a grand total of 137 miles.

Unless you’ve pushed yourself through a similar challenge of physical endurance, it might be hard to understand. But doing those rides made me a better person----made me stronger, more confident, and more hopeful. I chose to do all of the rides alone too. I didn’t want any “cheerleaders” standing on the side of the road tossing me Cliff bars and Dixie cups full of water. I’ve had very few people in my life stand on the sidelines encouraging me to keep moving forward each day, so the way I figured it, if I managed to be successful at these rides, I wanted it to be purely by the will of God and my own sheer determination. And I do believe that that decision is what made the rides so rewarding.

This year I wanted a different challenge. So I decided I would bike to Butte, MT. 

On the first day of summer (June 21) I woke up at my usual ambitious hour of 5 a.m. to start getting everything ready. I squeezed into my spandex pants, pulled my hair into a long braid down my back and filled my camelback. I scarfed down a bagel and cream cheese, took a few giant swigs of some chocolate milk and I was set to go…..except for one final thing.

I realized a long time ago that I’ve only managed to make it this far and become the person I am because of the roles several crucial individuals have played in my life. When I did my second ride I knew that there would be moments when I’d get tired and want to quit. And those would be the moments where I would need to be reminded of the reasons I get up every single day and give the world my very best—even in the face of all the things telling me not to. The reasons for who I am and what I do, essentially come down to nine individuals. They are the people who have loved and hated me, inspired me and broke me, tested me and stood by me. They are the people I pray for each night and try to maintain some sort of relationship with even in the face of overwhelming obstacles.

The last thing I did before heading out on my ride to Butte and as well as on my rides the two years prior, was to write the initials of those nine people on my arm. I then encircled their initials with a giant cross to remind me of who brought all of those people into my life and who alone knows the reasons why.  

After two mountain passes, seven hours, and nearly 70 miles I finally crested the hill and saw Butte. I was beyond exhausted and my knees were so sore I could barely stand and pedal. As I started gaining speed upon descending the hill, my eyes scanned the mountain-side to my left. I was looking for the Lady of the Rockies statue.

One week earlier I visited the statue for the first time. While I was there, I wrote prayers for several people and left them inside the statue. Some of those prayers were for the same people whose initials were emblazoned on my arm.

For seven hours I biked my heart out with nothing but the image of the statue in my mind. I think part of me hoped that if I made it through the ride and finally flew down the hill by it on my bike that my prayers would be answered. And even if they weren’t, I would’ve proved to myself and God just how much I was willing to fight for anything in my life that I wanted.  

When I finally saw the statue come into view at the top of the mountain, tears started streaming down my face. I had made it! I kept my eyes locked on the statue for several minutes as I continued down the hill. I looked down at the initials on my arm and thought of how grateful I was to all of those people. Without them, I never would’ve attempted the ride to Butte. I never would’ve realized my full potential and then surpassed it over and over again.

My ride to Butte and each day of my life is forever dedicated to those nine people. I thank God each day for bringing them into my life….and I continue to try and keep them there in some way with each passing day.

AG
GM+SM
JN
SM
JW
SW
KL
BB  

I love you all!

You, the Brand

Always on the lookout for something to help me along my journey of becoming a writer, my dad recently bought me the book, I Shouldn’t Be Telling You This: Success Secrets Every Gutsy Girl Should Know, by Kate White. Not only has Ms. White authored several of her own books, she was also the editor of Cosmopolitan magazine for 14 years. Needless to say, this woman knows her stuff! I was curious to dig into it and see what I could learn from her.

I’m only about halfway through the book, but I already feel better prepared for how to navigate through and become successful in my future career paths. And what I love most about the book so far is White’s blunt and uninhibited honesty on all matters. She tells it like it is--what she’s been through, what she’s seen, and what she’s  learned from others---all in a straightforward manner that not only makes you laugh but also pay close attention.

One chapter in particular stood out to me, perhaps because I’ve been self-consciously working on it in the past year. The chapter was called “You, the Brand.” Basically, White encourages the reader to develop their own brand identity, which is comprised of the values that make you who you are. The theory is that once you develop your brand, it will begin translating over into how you dress, how you act, and what you go on to do with your life. And once you figure out what your brand is, she stresses the need to keep reinforcing it at every opportunity. White declared her brand to be one based around “no-nonsense.” It wasn’t until I was in the middle of this chapter that I realized I was already working on developing and advertising my brand....I just didn’t quite know that “personal brand identity” was the name for what I was doing. 

Last summer I took a picture of myself wearing a tutu and posing on my dirt bike. I blew it up, framed it, and gave it to my dad for Father’s Day with a special engraved plaque underneath it. The plaque read “Happy Father’s Day 2012 To the Man Who Raised a Daughter with a Little Bit of Grace and a Little Bit of Grit.” It was supposed to play off of the ironic fact that while I did 13 years of ballet I also have always been a tomboy and loved my motorsports. Although I loved the phrase “little bit of grace and little bit of grit” when I first composed it, it wasn’t until I saw the whole picture and plaque put together that I realized I just might be on to something.

About six months after I gave that picture to my dad, I started this blog. And I titled it “A Little Bit of Grace, a Little Bit of Grit.” Ta-da! My brand was carrying over into my next step as a writer. Now, I am constantly thinking of ways to incorporate that brand into my everyday life and the work I do as a writer.

It’s so easy nowadays to follow a popular trend or celebrity style rather than digging into your own identity and creating your own brand that others will want to follow. I have moments where I love to twirl around in tutus comprised of layers of airy tulle. And I have moments where I love to kick up the gears on my bike and go splashing through a mud puddle. I am graceful and yet have a grittiness about me. And the more I write, the more I realize that my writing reflects those same qualities.  I’ve written about a lot of amazing people, some who have gone through terrible ordeals. They have a grittiness to their life as well. But I use my talent as a writer to bring a piece of beauty and grace to their story.

Ultimately, I know now what my personal brand is, and it is my goal to continue developing it and playing it out in my life in every way possible. And I highly encourage everyone else to do the same. You might feel like a rock star when you’re decked out in designer labels and are keeping pace with the trends. But you’ll feel like a god when you own who you are through your own personal brand. And I guarantee you’ll turn some heads doing it.

Racing Toward the Goal

When I was younger, and school finally let out for the summer, I started counting down the days until the annual motocross races at the Last Chance Raceway off York Road. Between the summer sun beating down on the back of your neck, the feel of loose dirt squishing underneath your feet, the sound of two-stroke engines revving all around and the heavenly aroma of burgers cooking on the grill, it was one of my favorite parts of summer. And the cherry on top was getting to watch my dad race a few of those years. 

There was one race in particular that has always stood out in my mind. I remember it being blazing hot out as I stood behind the fence by the race start watching all of the riders line their bikes up. My eyes scanned the lineup for my dad’s yellow Suzuki with the number 12 emblazoned on the side. The race start is what I remember the most.  Al of the riders had to start by straddling their front fender. When the shot rang out, they had to run around and jump on their bike, pump the kick start, throw them into gear and ride like hell. When the shot at this rang out for this race to start my dad moved faster than I’d ever seen him. He was the first one to pull away from the start, and was so far ahead of everyone else that people must’ve thought he’d jumped the gun. Meanwhile, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, “That’s my dad! That’s my dad!”

It was moments like that one that always left me a little envious and desirous to know what it would be like to race. This past Saturday, I finally had the chance to experience exactly that. My dad, boyfriend, and I all signed up for the Crazy Ben XC race out in Clancy. I was nervous for the challenges it would bring, but excited to carry on the Middlestead race legacy.

The sun was high in a pale blue sky that day. It was a comfortable 65 degrees out with just a breath of wind rolling over the hills. When 12:15 p.m. rolled around, the three of us wheeled our bikes up to the start line. The men would start first, followed by the women a few minutes later. All I remember about the start was trying to control my anxious breath from inside my helmet and focusing on the man up in front who would signal when to go. We did a dead engine start, which I’d never done before. But when the man threw his arm down, I started my engine, clicked it into first gear, and revved my engine a bit as I let out the clutch. It seemed like a million steps but I did it in one fluid motion. After popping a small wheelie, I was off and riding.

The goal was to do as many laps around the course in 90 minutes as you could. I quickly lost track of time though and didn’t count my laps. All I could do was focus on the trail in front of me and stay determined to finish no matter what. I crashed four times and was constantly dodging boulders and trees and slippery mud ruts. It was exhausting and nerve wracking. But it never once crossed my mind to pull out and quit. I needed to prove myself.....to my dad....and to my own self.

With every stop at the lap checkpoint, I felt a little more confident and smiled a little bigger behind my helmet. I was doing it....I was racing in my first race....and I was going to finish. When I finally came around the corner and saw the checkered flag, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt my heart beat surge. I had really done it! The race had felt hours long, but once it was over, it seemed like it had ended all too suddenly. I finished 5^th out of six women riders. I didn’t bring a trophy home that day, but I had finished. Even more importantly, I had had the courage to try in the first place.  

If someone had told me years ago that I would someday play a season of hockey, race in a cross country motocross race, and bike 140 miles, I would’ve told them they were crazy. Yet, in the past few years I have done every one of those things. I go to sleep every night knowing that I’m only starting the rev the engine of my life and there is much I will go on to accomplish still. As much as I shock people around me by the things I do, it’s not nearly as much as I shock myself. But I believe that if you aren’t pushing yourself beyond yourself, you aren’t really living. You aren’t giving life your best. It’s the things you don’t think you are capable of trying that you should be trying to do. See, the more things I’ve accomplished in life that I would’ve thought impossible years earlier, the more courage and strength I develop. And the next time an obstacle is dropped down in front of me, I just stand smiling at it because I know that I will take it on and overcome it.  

I’m sure my dad having an only child, and a girl to boot, made him think at one time about all the things he would never be able to teach her. Who would he be able to pass along his passions for hockey and motocross to? But I have spent the past 26 years, and especially the last year, showing him that I am far more than just a girl. I think I’ve shown him that I have a lot more of his spirit in me than he ever gave me credit for. And that’s one of my major goals in life: to live life so fully that I am constantly shocking the world around me....even those people who I am closest to. Just when people think they know me and how far I can go, I come up throwing another punch. To do anything less is simply an insult to the beautiful life God has blessed me with.