I used to believe that being an athlete was reserved for people who never wavered—those who spring out of bed, lace up their shoes, and charge into a workout without a second thought. The ones who sign up for races with total confidence because, well, they’re athletes. Yet here I am, planning my own race calendar for 2025 and still flinching every time someone uses that word to describe me.
But old habits die hard, right?
For most of my life, “athlete” felt like an ill-fitting label. I wrestle with endometriosis; some days, I wake up fine, and others, I’m on the floor in pain, robbed of every ounce of energy. That unpredictability convinced me I couldn’t commit to any athletic goals. Consistency felt foreign, so I stopped trying. Why set myself up for disappointment when my body might “fail” me?
Then, in my early 30s, I was sexually assaulted, and anything that pushed my heart rate to its threshold triggered flashbacks. Fear took hold. I avoided every challenge that might jolt my mind or body into dangerous territory.
I truly was at rock bottom when a tiny spark inside of me lit up at the idea of From The Ground Up. From the Ground Up (FTGU) is a program that pushes beginner cyclists toward some of the toughest races in the country. For 2024, that meant SBT GRVL’s Black Course—125 miles and 10,000 feet of climbing. I submitted my application video—but my nerves got the best of me, and I deleted it. I actually had to call Vimeo to have it restored once I decided to face my fears and go for it. Shock doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt when I was accepted. I truly never thought I could do this, but sometimes we discover our hidden reserves of strength at the exact moment we need them most.
Falling in Love with the Uphill
When I first started training for SBT GRVL, everything felt impossible—every climb, descent, and flat section exposed new fears. That fear hit hardest during a climbing-focused ride in Boulder, Colorado. It took me over three hours to ride (and walk) up ten miles, and a mile and a half from the summit, I almost quit convinced I didn’t have what it takes. By the time I reached the top, my body swelled with awe. The view was gorgeous, but it was realizing I’d powered myself there—two legs, one pounding heart—that brought me to tears. I was witnessing a new version of myself I never knew existed. Once I leaned into the burn, uphill battles—literal and metaphorical—became less like ordeals and more like invitations to see what I’m really capable of.
Enter Humango
That’s where Humango comes in. I was nervous to dive into any kind of training plan because of my history: my body could betray me at any moment, and my mind was still fragile from trauma. But Humango felt different. On days when endometriosis reared its vicious head, the plan shifted with me instead of berating me. It adapted to my body, my pace, and my reality.
Day by day, I saw small changes in my strength and endurance. More importantly, I saw changes in my confidence. Slowly, that shaky fear of pushing my heart rate started to subside as I realized I was in control—supported by a tool that truly recognized my needs.
Before I knew it, I was on the start line of SBT GRVL. All 125 miles, 10,000 feet of climbing, and one ever-beating heart inside a person who once believed “athlete” would never describe her. Crossing that finish line wasn’t just about the miles behind me. It symbolized every moment I’d spent quietly doubting myself. It was the final exorcism of that voice in my head saying, You can’t do this. It turned out I could.
So, Am I an Athlete?
It took a long time to say it out loud, but yes—I think I am. Being an athlete isn’t about perfection; it’s about showing up despite the doubts, pain, and past. Each time you show up, you chip away at old narratives, making room for something new and powerful to unfold. In 2025, I’ll keep relying on Humango as I reach for bigger goals. Some people train for medals and podiums; I train to remind myself I’m still here, still fighting, and still capable of astonishing things.
If you’re wondering if Humango really works, I can only speak my truth: it worked for me. It took me from feeling powerless to finishing one of the toughest gravel races in the country. It built my strength and confidence gradually, on my terms, in this body that comes with flare-ups, panic attacks, and all. And for me, that’s everything.
