The Girl Who Was Saved by a Mountain Bike

Switching Back to Love in the Aftermath of Heartbreak

Where Everything Begins to Shift

There’s a lot of transformation happening in my life right now, switchbacks stacked on top of switchbacks. The kind that force you to slow down, recalibrate, and choose your line carefully. I’ve been moving through a deep transition, letting go of what hurt me while healing at the same time, and the more I sit with it, the more I realize it’s no different than crashing on a trail and working your way back. I’ve been there before, pushing for Queen of the Mountain on Lower Spring Creek, riding hard, chasing something, and then suddenly I’m down. Hard. Was it 2022 or 2023? I must have hit my head, no, in fact, I know I hit my head, along with dislocating my shoulder when I crashed racing up Spring Creek. Most people crash going downhill, not up, but not me. I’ll crash going up or down. It’s all good, as long as I keep getting back up. Because that’s what it comes down to, getting back up, figuring out how to ride again, finding that joy and happiness again, whether it’s on a bike, in a car, in a plane, or even behind a sewing machine. It doesn’t matter what it is. Get on it. Move forward. Find your happiness every single day.

Healing Is a Practice, Not a Moment

That’s what this season feels like. Healing from a breakup isn’t just emotional, it’s physiological, neurological, deeply human. The more I study attachment and how we’re wired for connection, the more it makes sense. We come from a time when being alone meant danger, when survival depended on connection, so when we lose someone we bonded with, our system reacts like something is wrong, like we’re not safe. Layer on top of that the thousands of emotions we cycle through every day, sometimes within minutes of waking up, and it becomes clear why the experience feels so intense. Fear, anxiety, peace, joy, longing, gratitude, it’s all there, constantly moving. Right now, I’m choosing to intentionally guide myself back toward happiness and satisfaction, not by ignoring the pain but by working through it. This has become my daily practice, my version of physical therapy, fifteen to twenty minutes a day to sit with it, process it, feel it, and let it move through me. I don’t suppress it, and I don’t let it take over. I honor it, just like I would an injury that needs attention, care, and time. Because that’s exactly what this is, recovery. And just like with physical recovery, what we do consistently matters, especially at night. The thoughts we focus on and the emotions we replay are where the rewiring happens. Our brains are designed to keep us alive, not necessarily to make us happy, that’s where intention comes in, where mindset, heart, and soul take over. That’s where healing lives.

When Love Is Real, But Not Meant to Stay

Not long ago, I thought I had found my forever, a man I rode with, built with, and loved deeply, a man who got down on one knee at Jack London State Park on August 2, 2025, and asked me to marry him. And then things shifted, because sometimes people don’t have the strength, clarity, or readiness to follow through on what they thought they wanted. Sometimes timing isn’t aligned, and sometimes growth hasn’t caught up yet. And sometimes you outgrow what someone else isn’t ready to rise into. That’s a hard truth to sit with, because the love was real, the memories were real, the connection was real, but real doesn’t always mean sustainable. It brings me back to one of the most important principles I’ve ever lived by, Principle #8: Partner Well. Partnering well isn’t just about chemistry or shared experiences, it’s about alignment, strength, consistency, and the ability to show up not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard. If that’s not there, no matter how much love exists, something will eventually break.

Returning to Myself, Fully and Honestly

So now I’m here, in the in between, not clinging, not avoiding, just doing the work. Balancing the 22, or is it 23, domains, principles, and parts of life I’m always talking about, honestly, after that crash, maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. But what I do know is this, I’m coming back to center, back to self, back to what matters. I’m grounding into the six domains I talk about in my High-Value Woman book, self, partner, family, community, and business, while making sure I don’t lose myself in the process. This is all part of living a happier, healthier life, and I see it all the time in our community, people who have been riding for decades, people older than we ever imagined we’d be when we first started, still out there moving, smiling, pushing, and healing. Mountain biking, cycling, it’s not just a sport. It’s medicine. I believe that with everything in me because I feel it. My brain, my mind, and my body work better together now than they ever have before. I feel younger now than I did in my 30s, and I just hit 50. That didn’t happen by accident, it’s a choice I make every day, to maintain happiness, to move through challenges instead of avoiding them, to help others navigate their own challenges, and to keep growing, stretching, and evolving as a woman and as a human being.

Ready or Not at the Start Line on My Own

It’s quiet in that way that only race mornings are quiet. Not silent, but charged. Tires rolling softly over dirt, voices low, the sound of people pretending they’re not nervous. I stand there with my bike, helmet in my hands, feeling it all at once, excitement, fear, doubt, determination. This is my first enduro race. No beginner category. No easing into it. Just sport, expert, or pro. And me. A beginner, standing on my own at the start line for the first time, without a rider partner to steady me, encourage me, or remind me I’ve got this. I’m doing the Marinduro this week, May 9th, just one day before Mother’s Day, in Marin County on Mount Tamalpais.

Stepping Into the Unknown, Anyway From Him

And this weekend, I’m doing something that both excites me and honestly scares me. I’m racing in the Marinduro. There’s no beginner category, no easing into it. It’s sport, expert, or pro. And the truth is, I’m a beginner. I’ve never raced an enduro before. This is my first time doing something like this completely on my own. That part hits me. Because if I’m being honest, I would have preferred to have my partner there. The one I thought I’d be riding through life with. The one who would have stood at the start line with me, calmed my nerves, reminded me I’ve got this. But he’s not here. And that’s the shift. Now, I become my own partner. Not just for this race, but for my life. And maybe that’s the lesson in all of this. The deeper one underneath the heartbreak, underneath the healing. That we are never truly alone, even when it feels that way. We have ourselves. We have the strength we build, the resilience we earn, and the courage we choose. I’m scared, yes. But I’m also ready. Ready to show up. Ready to try. Ready to be a beginner again. Ready to prove to myself that I can stand at that start line, heart racing, uncertain, and still go.

I had a chance to check in with Gabby Huffman, who won the pro e-mountain bike race last year. Talking with her gave me a different kind of confidence. The kind that doesn’t come from knowing you’ll win, but from knowing you’ll show up. And that’s enough. I don’t care if I come in dead last. As long as I get through it, I’ve already won.

Because that’s what this whole journey has been about. Learning to ride again on my own. And trusting that I’m more than capable of becoming exactly who I need to be.

Closing One Chapter, Opening Another

That’s all I want to do. I want to keep becoming, and I want to keep helping. I didn’t come from an easy beginning, I came from a traumatic start, but that’s not how my story is going to end. That’s not the ending I’m choosing. I’m choosing strength, growth, and joy, even through the pain, even through the healing, even through every single switchback. And to you, who broke my heart, I genuinely hope you’re okay. I hope you grow, I hope you find what you’re looking for, and I hope someday you understand what we had. But as for me, I’m closing one chapter and opening another, and I’m choosing to keep riding. For now.