I ride like a girl. I’m younger and smaller than most of the junior boys. And, the fact of the matter is, I’m proud of that. I’m proud to be the only girl on the junior’s start line at many races. I’m proud to race with the boys. I’m proud to ride like a girl. This blog is for the girls. For the young girls who get flack from the boys… For not being big enough, or strong enough to compete with the boys. Well, let me tell you, girls: You are big enough and you ARE strong enough. We are as strong as we believe we are. So, be proud.
I held my head high on the front of the start line of the Folsom Classic Criterium, my 5’5” being towered over by 16 year old boys with giant muscles. I stood over my Grammo C3, the Pink Ninja, ready to give my all. On the neutral lap, I will admit that I protected myself, hugging the wheel of my 6 foot tall brother Wyatt. Wyatt didn’t mind me hiding in his shadow. I knew that if I let them, the other boys would bully me. I also knew that Wyatt would have NONE of that.
I was able to stay 
in the pack for the first lap, until a humongous boy from Teini Duro attacked, and the pack recoiled, flying off after him. I just couldn’t stay with them. A group of about 6 other boys were dropped as well. I worked with one of them for a lap or two, until I attacked and dropped him on the 3rd lap. I picked off the other chasing riders, and on my 4th lap I could finally see the pack. So close…but just out of reach, as the Teini Duro boys attacked again and the pack flew away. So Close.
I was now in the deepest, darkest place in the world; The Pain Cave. As I passed the 
start/finish on my 6th lap, I could hear the announcer: “Wow. Talk about perseverance from the lone female in this race.” And the spectators screamed. That made me proud. I pushed harder, my lungs on fire and my legs beginning to shake. I swallowed hard. I could hear the pack behind me. I was going to get lapped. Lapped.
Wyatt patted my shoulder as he went by, and Hunter Olivier, a Diamondback factory racer I’d known for a long time, encouraged me as he went by. I tried to hold the pack for as long as I could, but they were just too big, and there was too many of them.
After 9 laps, I was dog tired and the grimace of pain on my face clearly stated one thing: I am not giving up. On the last lap, I was breaths away from losing my breakfast, and every pedal stroke was agonizing. It took every inch of determination in me to stand out of the saddle and push with what little I had left across the finish line, to the sound of the crowd cheering, and the praise of the announcers. My 
knees buckled as soon my muscles relaxed. I’d given everything I had. I’d raced with the boys, and I’d gotten my butt kicked. But I raced. I wasn’t afraid of them, and it was clear by the look of approval from the boys I rode by on my cool-down that I’d earned their respect. I was proud of what I’d accomplished, my 14th place out of 25-some 16 and under juniors.
So, to all of the junior girls: Don’t be afraid to race with the boys who have years, pounds, and feet on you. Never give up. You are stronger than you know.
Ride on. Ride like a girl.
Keep chasing….
in the pack for the first lap, until a humongous boy from Teini Duro attacked, and the pack recoiled, flying off after him. I just couldn’t stay with them. A group of about 6 other boys were dropped as well. I worked with one of them for a lap or two, until I attacked and dropped him on the 3rd lap. I picked off the other chasing riders, and on my 4th lap I could finally see the pack. So close…but just out of reach, as the Teini Duro boys attacked again and the pack flew away. So Close.
start/finish on my 6th lap, I could hear the announcer: “Wow. Talk about perseverance from the lone female in this race.” And the spectators screamed. That made me proud. I pushed harder, my lungs on fire and my legs beginning to shake. I swallowed hard. I could hear the pack behind me. I was going to get lapped. Lapped.
knees buckled as soon my muscles relaxed. I’d given everything I had. I’d raced with the boys, and I’d gotten my butt kicked. But I raced. I wasn’t afraid of them, and it was clear by the look of approval from the boys I rode by on my cool-down that I’d earned their respect. I was proud of what I’d accomplished, my 14th place out of 25-some 16 and under juniors.