I get asked all the time how I got into bike racing…and I honestly have a foggy memory of it. I can’t remember far enough back to a time that I didn’t race. It’s a part of me…without it I would never be the same. But when I was 7 years old, racing a bright yellow Kona Makenna, I never thought I’d have the opportunity to go as far as I have. I never thought I’d get to go to Nationals someday. But I had a dream…and here I am.
I can’t do justice to the way my heart swells when I walk into my garage and see the three beautiful pink Grammo bikes that I have the privilege to race. In some ways, these bikes are my very best friends. They will always be right under me when I need them, they’ll never abandon me. Bikes are one thing that can make me smile when I feel like crying. And no matter how many times I crash, or have a bad race, nothing could ever make me love racing less. Nothing will ever be able to make me happy the way racing does.
I know how hard it’s going to be, how much blood, sweat and tears…how many hours in the saddle, how many early mornings and how many 10 hour drives. But in the end it’ll all be worth it. And I know I’ll do whatever it takes to live my dreams of being a pro mountain bike racer.
So, when people ask me how I got into racing, maybe I’ll just say two words. A dream …and that’s what keeps me going still today. A dream.