Artec and I flew into Liberia, Costa Rica on New Year’s Eve. We knew the trip was off to a good start when a cab driver in a tiny red economy car strapped Artec’s bike box to the roof and gestured for me to squeeze into the backseat and position myself on hands and knees
I composed a love note on Valentine’s Day last year for my partner while sprawled across the backseat of my van with my shammies pulled down to my knees and a spoon of Nutella in my mouth. It was 2 a.m; we were racing duo at 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo for our second
“The first problem for all of us, men and women, is not to learn, but to unlearn.” – Gloria Steinem
Sometimes, I roll into mountain bike races–and even trailheads–wondering why I am a part of such an entitled, capitalist-driven, expensive sport. I loathe the sight of gas guzzling SUVs (especially when only one bicycle and one person emerge from the SUV), and camping near shiny RVs the size of an average house (complete with loud
As women participating in male-dominated athletic activities, our marginalized position is incredibly complicated. If we can do an activity as well as a man, and look hot doing it, we are told we are special. This feels good. But when the dominant culture blatantly–or even unintentionally–excludes us, doesn’t listen to us, calls us a clutz or a spaz because of something we did in a stressful moment, our feelings are hurt. We need to act–and react–with intention to make situations better for us and for other women. Then, we need to think critically about the layers of privilege and marginalization extending out in a million different directions from us.