When I got the e-mail saying that I had been selected to be a part of the 2023 Pan American XCM Championship team, I immediately envisioned high mountain singletrack and stunning views. I got one part of that right.

The 2023 Pan American XCM Championship took place in Santa Rosa de Cabal, Colombia, a small city near Pereira that, from all appearances, was a tourist destination for Colombians. When we arrived (myself, Jules – the other US rider, and Carson – his mechanic), we quickly found that almost no one spoke any English, which made communication both challenging and entertaining. The Colombians were incredibly friendly and helpful–and often cracked up laughing as soon as they realized we didn’t speak Spanish.

As Jules and I began pre-riding the course, I soon realized that my dreams of epic South American singletrack were misplaced, and that the course would take place almost entirely on gravel and forest roads (and even some pavement). The course was approximately 44 miles with over 6500 feet of climbing, which, being that it didn’t involve any singletrack, didn’t play well to my strengths as a rider. As a taller (and therefore heavier) rider, that much climbing was not to my advantage. Despite this fact, I was excited to race internationally for the first time, and I couldn’t even really complain about the course’s lack of singletrack, as the absolutely stunning views made up for it!

On Saturday, as Jules and I were finishing up our final pre-ride, his headset suddenly seized up. Upon investigation, Carson discovered that the bearings had completely exploded, which meant that we would need to find replacement bearings in order for Jules to race the next day. The only bike shops in Santa Rosa did not have anything that would fit correctly, so we concluded that our only chance was to try one of the many shops in Pereira. We had already scheduled a coffee tour for Saturday afternoon, so we opted to do the coffee tour, then try to find something in Pereira on the way back to the AirBnb.

The coffee tour was both informative and fun, as they walked us through the entire process of growing and producing coffee, from planting seeds, the growth and pruning of the trees, to picking the coffee beans, fermenting them for flavor, then drying and roasting the beans. While there, we ate lunch, a traditionally-prepared Colombian meal of chicken, cassava, rice, and plantains all wrapped in a banana leaf. Delicious!

After the coffee tour, we headed into Pereira to try and find a headset for Jules’ bike. The shop we decided to try first was a Scott dealer, and with the help of Google Translate, the broken headset parts, and general miming, we learned that despite having several nice Scott mountain bikes in stock, they had only headset, which Carson determined would most likely work–at least for the duration of the race. With headset bearings in hand, we returned to the Airbnb, where Carson began working on the bike and Jules and I headed off to the technical meeting for the race.

On the way over to the tech meeting, Jules asked me whether I thought any of it would be in English. Based on just the registration process, I thought it was unlikely, and sure enough, when the meeting started, we were so attentively listening to catch even the most basic of information in the Spanish stream of words that we missed the “USA” in the UCI Commissaire’s question of whether the U.S. riders could understand. The entire room got quiet and everyone turned to look at us, before answering for us that no, we didn’t understand anything. The entire situation was comical, but a female rider from Chile sitting near me offered to translate key information and we met individually with the Commissaire afterwards to clarify our remaining questions.

Sunday morning, race day, started early with a return to the cafe just down the street from our Airbnb for a breakfast of pastries and coffee, then kitted up and started our warm up. Our USA kits made us somewhat of celebrities as we neared the start line, with riders and families stopping us frequently to ask for photos. Thanks to last year’s Snowshoe XCO World Cup and the XCM National Championship, I was the third racer to be called up to the start line in the women’s elite field. Surrounding me were 24 women from Colombia, Ecuador, and Chile. When the whistle blew, we were off, only momentarily shuffled into chaos by a stray dog wandering through the street as we came blasting through. From there, the race began to ascend the first climb. This is where I expected to fall back towards the rear of the race (as is typical for me when long climbs are at the start of races), but was surprised to find that I was passing riders throughout the entirety of the climb. By the top of the climb, I estimated that I was within the top ten riders, and pushed into the descent.

Despite being “just a gravel descent,” my confidence was perhaps overrated. I slid out on a sharp left hand corner at speed, slamming into the ground as my bike somersaulted further down the road. The worst part was that I landed on the same knee that I had sliced open at Whiskey 50 at the tail end of April, and that was just feeling strong again, nearly six weeks later. The flesh on my knee was peeled open as if it had never healed, and the very thought of being back at square one of recovery devastated me. But finishing the race safely came first.

Some spectators on a passing motorcycle paused long enough for me to mime a request for bandages or tape to close the gash on my knee enough to ride, but didn’t have anything. I quickly re-adjusted my handlebars (though not perfectly) and remounted, with the aim of getting to the first aid station (at the 12-km mark) and finding a way to wrap my knee. Only a few miles later, the on-course first aid team arrived by motorcycle and flagged me down, hastily irrigating and wrapping my knee while I finished the job of straightening my handlebars. Once I was riding again, I knew I would be able to finish, but was unsure of how much power I’d be able to produce.

Despite the lost time from crashing and then stopping to have my knee bandaged, I quickly started moving back towards the front half of the field. My knee hurt, but I felt like I was able to still maintain a steady pace, though perhaps less aggressively than I would have if not injured. The weather was significantly hotter than it had been during the previous days’ pre-rides, and I was grateful for Carson’s work in the feed zones, as well as for the friendly Colombians who offered water, both for drinking and just by spraying a hose over riders as we passed.

In the end, I finished 14th: a result I am proud of, considering the crash and resulting injury.

At the finish line, I was greeted by the entirety of the race’s first aid team, and rushed to the on-site ambulance, and then to the hospital in Pereira, where they cleaned the wound fully and stitched me up. Despite the fact that Carson had been on-course all day, and that Jules had just finished his own race, they made Carson accompany me to the hospital, where he patiently waited. Back in Santa Rosa, Jules somehow managed to ride back to the AirBnb with both of our bikes, then graciously washed and packed the bikes, did laundry, and picked up dinner for us upon our return from the hospital. Jules and Carson were just as helpful the following day, picking up my antibiotics from the pharmacy, dropping me off at the airport terminal while they returned the rental car, and then hauling my bike through the airport. I don’t think I could have asked for better teammates!

After way too many hours traveling home (thanks to multiple layovers, cancelled, and delayed flights), the disappointment about being injured, off the bike, and unsure about the timeline of returning to training and competition is still very real. But even in the middle of that sadness, there is a distinct sense of joy and gratitude for the experience I was able to have racing in Colombia.