This is the mantra that Erin Ayala, of Skadi Sports Psychology, helped me identify in the lead up to the Enduro National Championship, but also one that has kind of “stuck” ever since. The idea was that racing isn’t about “proving” myself, but about putting the skills, fitness, etc. that I’ve worked so hard for on display–letting it shine.

Coming back to the Shed Enduro this year with a repaired shoulder, improved skills, and more confidence was exciting. I didn’t feel any pressure to prove anything, just the opportunity to push myself and see how far I’d come. Racing at the Frederick Watershed almost seems to be a measuring stick of sorts, as I first found myself at the “Shed” in the lead up to the 2021 XCM National Championships, just months after I’d moved from the midwest to Virginia, and with none (ok, very few) of the riding skills I have now. That first pre-ride was eye-opening. I’d never seen rocks like that before, and in all honesty, I was afraid of the course. It was hard, it was scary, and I didn’t like it. Fast-forward four years, two XCM Nationals and now two enduro races later, and I can say just as honestly that I really like racing at the Shed.

Almost out of sheer coincidence (aka lack of planning), I ended up riding with the Take Aim Cycling crew on pre-ride, which was the perfect mix of leaning into the challenge of the trails and relaxed vibes that I was hoping for. (I’ve learned that a speed-focused, stressful pre-ride doesn’t help me race faster–it just makes me anxious). Towards the end of the day, I was feeling relatively confident and wanted to re-ride Alba, which has two trail step-down/gap jumps on it that I’d never hit before, with the aim of at least trying to ride them. Harlan volunteered to take the lap with me, and with his coaching, I was able to hit the first of the two jumps successfully. Considering that a win, I didn’t even try the second one, as I didn’t want to push too far into my mental capacity for going out of my comfort zone on the day before a race.

On race day, I joined Cathy and Kenan, two of the other pro women, on the transfers between each stage and once again relished in the camaraderie that enduro racing provides. Stages 1 and 2 went without incident, then on Stage 3, Alba, I was feeling good, so hit the first gap as planned, with the intention of riding the second gap if the first one went well. Somehow, on the landing, which I admittedly cased (lightly), my saddle snapped off the rails entirely and went flying into the woods. Mid-stage, I wasn’t quite sure what had happened, or what was/was not still attached to my bike, so I eased up, afraid that if I crashed or slid out that I might somehow impale myself. When I got to the bottom, both rails were still in the seat post clamps, just sheared off in the front and back of the post. When I headed to the aid station to see if anyone had an extra saddle I could use, Matt, the race director and B-team captain, generously offered his saddle, as he was not racing, so I swapped saddles, then headed up for Stage 4.

Stage 4, Hoe-Down, is probably the most challenging stage, though during pre-ride, I felt pretty good on it. As we were waiting to drop, there was a minor course delay due to a rider that had crashed right on the entry feature, and that mentally shook me more than I initially realized (that, or it’s my excuse), as I felt a bit awkward and stiff the entire way down the trail, but made it–even if it was slow. Stages 5 and 6 went without major incident, though I annoyingly dabbed on both.

I ended the day in 4th place, with no crashes (WIN!) and no major mechanicals (aside from my saddle breaking catastrophically?). I was disappointed, as I feel that at some point, my gains in skills/confidence should bring speed gains as well, but know that I need to be patient and just keep putting in the work. Perhaps more than anything, I had a blast hanging with all my bike homies and riding some truly rad trails.