If you look at the results of the Whiskey 50 Off-Road over the years, they really tell the story of my career. My first race at the Whiskey 50 was in 2018. I finished in 17^th place and flew back to Missouri to finish out my college semester. I was so exhausted that I had to take an entire week off of the bike. We’ve come a long way since then. 

Fast forward over the years and you’ll see in chronological order my results go from 17^th to 13^th to 7^th to 4^thand finally, this year, in 2024 to 2^nd! There are many things I’m proud of in my career so far, but this story of tenacity, determination, and consistent upward progress is the story I want to keep telling because I believe it’s relatable. Keep working. You’ll get there. And one day you’ll look back and remember that at one point what you are doing now seemed darn near impossible. 

With the cancellation of the Fat Tire Crit on Friday night, due to some pretty intense rain and thunderstorms, they moved the prize money from the Crit Primes to a hole shot prize. The holeshot was about 5 miles into the race after a big climb up a road and fireroad. The pace ratcheted up mile after mile until before we knew it, the gradual increase had led us into an all- out sprint. 

I entered the singletrack in 4^th. I did not secure the prime but I convinced myself that I saved my legs for the actual race which was still hours in the making. After the sprint for the prime, everyone sat up a bit and we quickly formed a group of 4-5 women. Then I started to falter. My legs couldn’t find the rhythm and I started to wonder, “Maybe today just isn’t my day?” My brain was wanting to spiral, but I had the tools to deal. I thought about my conversation with Enso Mental Performance and I quickly shifted my mindset. “What are my goals for this section?” Instead of thinking about the pain in my legs or the gap forming between the lead women and myself, I started to think about my cadence, my body position, and my fueling strategy. 

Next thing I knew, I looked up the climb and I could see the group of women just up ahead and I was gaining on them fast. I made up about a 30-45 second deficit before the descent down Skull Valley and more importantly, my mind and body were back in the game. 

The moment we flipped the U-Turn at the bottom of Skull Valley and started the 45 minutes climb back up to the top I went to the front. I found my rhythm and I set the pace. I didn’t plan on dropping anyone, but I was going to turn the screws. 

As the minutes and miles progressed, our group whittled down to 3 just before we entered the singletrack again. 

We travelled through the singletrack together and with about 15 miles to go, the group became two. When Alexis and I looked back we discovered that Samara had disappeared from the group suddenly (we later learned she suffered a flat tire). 

Alexis and I would ride together the remainder of the race. For the next 15 miles we were off the front, riding both together, and using whatever opportunity there was to drop each other. We both took turns on the front and following. It was competitive collaboration at its best. 

With about 5 miles left in the race, 1 mile before we hit the road again, the trail opened up very briefly before going back to singletrack again. I was leading and Alexis tried to make a pass. I held my ground. We were both sprinting for the singletrack, playing a game of chicken, and neither of us let up. Our bars tangled, and we hit the ground. I flipped over the bars, landed on my face, and got a huge mouthful of dirt. My glasses were askew on my face, my body shaking from impact, and my equipment yardsaled everywhere. The first thing to come out of both of our mouths was not a complaint or a blame but the words, “Are you ok?”

We took a very brief unspoken pause. Alexis said, “Let’s get to the finish safely.” And I said, “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.” “Ready?” “Yes.” We took off again and the same competitive energy resumed.

I exited the singletrack first with Alexis right on my wheel. It was 4 miles of road into town. I knew I shouldn’t lead, but Alexis also knew that. What motivation would she have to come around me at that point? I was racking my brain with every single strategy I could think of win what was sure to be a sprint finish. I tried a few different things to get the competitive edge or to shake her from my wheels, but we were stroke for stroke on the day. 

In the final corner Alexis was able to come wide and carry speed around me, just barely outsprinting me for the win. 

Even with a bitter sweet ending as I crossed the finish line just inches from victory, 2^nd place still feels pretty sweet. It’s been a long journey to be able to content for the win at this race and the pursuit of it will keep me coming back over and over again.