Just put a little salt in that wound

September 28th, 2017 

Cold, sterile, lonely, scary... These are all words used to describe a doctors office exam room. All of which I would describe as accurate. I sit here in the classic hospital blue paper shorts, the paper on the exam table sticking to the backs of my sweaty legs (I just rode here). My feet dangling off the end of the table as I wait for the Doctor I've never met to come tell me my fate based on a bunch of images that look like a 5-year-olds drawing. 

It's an Indian summer in Portland this year and the fall weather hasn't fully set in. I should be hitting the trails on a daily basis and taking in all the sunshine I can to stock up on Vitamin D for the coming winter. But instead... I'm here. 

2 years ago I hung up my bike and prepared for the hip surgery that was going to fix everything... 2 years later and I still wasn't fixed. You can read about that whole time in my last post " lining up for Failure". I find myself asking, How am I hear again? How is this still happening? I thought this was taken care of. I don't feel sorry for myself but man am I frustrated. 

I was recently asked as I was speaking on a panel for Nuun at Interbike " Was it hard for you to step away from racing? And to just be a Team owner and Director?" I lied, I said it was hard but that I found my personal success in the success of the team. That part is true, the part I didn't say was that not only was it hard but it's a constant struggle, I beat myself up constantly over not being strong enough anymore. I skip rides with friends so I don't hold them back and miss out on a lot. To be totally honest I'm sick and tired of talking about this stupid hip. I'm tired of having to explain myself to people because it's an injury you don't notice from the outside, I'm tired of not sleeping because of the constant pain, and being in pain pretty much all the time. But most of all I'm just tired. 

So, I'm going on vacation, I'm going to ride my bike in my favorite place with some of my favorite people and make the most of the time I have before I go under the knife... again. If I can say one thing after talking to my hip partner in crime Courtney Mcfadden. Please try and remember just because you can't physically see an injury doesn't mean it's not there. I'm not slow, or bad at bikes. I'm injured. It sucks, but myself and my surgeon are more than optimistic that I will be back and I will be able to train and make gains like I should have the first time. I'm more than ready to get back to training and to find out what my true potential is. 

See you on the flip side. And a little note, be nice and understanding to those you may not understand or know the full story. This goes for everyone not just in our secluded secure bike world.  

Lining up for "failure"

Last season as you can all probably tell I essentially “quit” racing. I needed a mental reset. Life got in the way and took the fun out of it for me. I hate the word quit. I’m not a quitter. But what else do you call it when you hang up your wheels and DNS multiple races you have already registered for.

I wasn’t burnt out, I wasn’t slow. ( to the average joe) but I was sad. I was unemployed, coming off of surgery and didn’t know what was next and life had got the better of me. On the outside I always have it together. I’m organized, fun, happy, the driving force for LA Sweat always doing it all.  But little do people know that outside of cycling and racing life has been tough the last 2 years. In late 2015 my life took a turn I never imagined. I returned home from Italy, and in a week moved out of my house, lost my job, and my marriage had taken it’s final blow. I took my dogs and a car full of stuff to a place where I didn’t know anyone. It was a good reset away from the craziness of LA. But I was alone.

The determination to train and take the time off to focus on cycling turned to spending days in my pj’s and sleeping a lot. I would try and re motivate but nothing I tried really worked. If you haven’t dealt with depression count your lucky stars. I told myself I wasn’t depressed. I was lying.

The 2016 season started and with a half assed winter training block. I was delusional to think I could jump in and succeed. I didn’t succeed, and it was demoralizing. But I wasn’t a quitter so I kept going, I kept lining up, I kept failing. I was disconnected, isolated and probably a bit of a bitch. ( if you met me in this time let me just apologize now) . Last September I said fuck it and hung up my bike. I took one last trip with yonder journal in the mountains, I spent time with family I had neglected over the years chasing the racing dream. And I was “ok” with things.

I got a new Job in Portland shortly after. Bikeflights loaned me the sprinter and I again packed up my life and moved to a new city. I knew more people but was still new and a bit lonely. But I needed a job and this is where the job was.

One week post move the city was hit with the worst winter it had seen in 9+ years. Cool, so riding wasn't an option and to be totally honest I wasn’t that sad about it. I wasn’t ready. I’ve come to terms with where I am now in regards to my bike. I ride when I want, I’m riding a ton more dirt ( which I love, more on that later).

I’m spending time with the people I care most about. Things aren’t perfect, some health things have popped up and sometimes I’m still sad, but I’m not afraid of failure anymore. I’ve sat on the sidelines all season. I haven’t kitted up once. Actually the thought of kitting up makes me want to puke.

The other day I was scrolling through old pics and came across a photo of myself, Ashley and Fleur. Fleur and I were on the same team but Ashley wasn’t but we were instant teammates no matter what. Those photos sparked something in me. In New York in 2016 I saw the 2 of them go head first into the curb and laying on the ground I put myself between them and the coming racers in the last lap. In that moment we were more than bike racers. And I see these photos and they make me want to race or at least line up. So come July 22nd in London I’ll line up, ill prepared physically but mentally there to have fun and to not quit. I know I won’t have a successful race and I’m prepared mentally for that. So I’m ok lining up for failure. Because the success for me will just be the act of lining up. See you at Redhook!

Dear Garmin

Dear Garmin,

    I remember the day we got together. You were the answer to all my training problems. You put a smile on my face and those tiny numbers ticking away were the best thing that could have happened to me. Each morning you were there. Telling me to go hard or to take it easy. Some days I hated you so much but I NEEDED you. So I kept you around. I loved to load up all the data you gave me and analyze every little aspect of our rides together. No matter what I was never alone because I had you.

Remember that time I accidentally left you on the roof of the car and you flew off and right as I was about to grab you from the road that giant truck ran you over. I’m sorry for that, but hey I got you fixed and we were back together again just as the world had intended.

Just like any relationship we had our off days where you refused to pair with my power meter or froze and I had to restart you multiple times because it was cold outside. We argued when you would read my power meter low or way too high. But you were always there for me.

Even when my life turned upside down, it was just me and you Garmin. You were there through my surgery pushing me to ride those 15 mins just days after. I hated riding without you. I know I always forget to charge you so… you're dead more often then I would like. I depended on you and when you failed me I just wouldn't ride out of frustration.  Looking back now I see that is when our relationship shifted.

You no longer became my forever training buddy you were my enemy, You  were the constant reminder of how slow I was or how far I had to go to get back to where I was. You no longer brought a smile to my face and I would have rather thrown you off a cliff than mount you to the front of my beloved bike. And then you really turned on me. I kept using you because “strava or it didn’t happen” or some sort of BS like that. And then you teamed up with my bike and you both turned on me. The smile turned into indifference,  and then to tears. I “lost” you for a while and things got a bit better with me and my bike. And then one day this winter I thought “hey, let's just see how things go” I brought you out of hibernation mounted you to the front of my Cinelli and we were off. That was the biggest mistake ever!!!!!!

For almost 5 hours you taunted me. I cried and yelled and wanted nothing more than to give up. And then the best thing happened. YOU DIED! I made it home and threw you right back in the drawer.

So Garmin, It’s time. Our relationship has come to an end and until I decide it’s time for us to play bikes again you will stay in that dark drawer. I will be riding my bike for fun. I don’t care about numbers or time elapsed or if I see how many light bulbs I can light up with my legs. I will ride trails, I will ski, I will focus my energy on rebuilding my body, or  I will do nothing If that's what I want. You will not come on this journey with me as I find my way back to my first love , my bike. Maybe one day we can play bikes again, but I will never NEED you again. You will not determine my worth or strength. Sorry Garmin But it’s over between us!

Sincerly,

Kellisam