An Open Letter to the Kid Who Stole My Bike

Editor’s note: Usually I try to keep these posts relatively PG-13, meaning, I suppose, a “f-bomb to other words” ratio of less than 1 to 10. Today, I didn’t bother, so if that’s the kind of thing that’s going to upset you, come back tomorrow. Okay, here goes…

Last known photo of my beautiful bike. :(

Last known photo of my beautiful bike. :(

To the Kid Who Stole My Bike:

First off, here are a few little things you should be aware of —

For starters, that saddle? It is going to DESTROY your balls. That’s because it’s designed for vaginas, not balls. Maybe the next time you steal a bike, you’ll think about that first. In the meantime, here’s hoping your ability to procreate and spread the dumbass gene has been severely limited.

Also, that little knob on the left side of the handlebars will make the seat post go up. This will be helpful the next time you’re sprinting away from the cops, or from crazy, barefoot, screaming lunatics. (By the way, that crazy, barefoot, screaming lunatic — that was me.)

Oh, and your riding will be greatly improved if you pull up your fucking pants. This is like mountain biking 101. You’re welcome.

Secondly, some thank yous are in order. Yes, you read that right.

Thanks for the little empowerment lesson. I’m serious. I never really realized I’d go flying off after a bad guy barefoot until I did it. I didn’t wait for my boyfriend. I didn’t wait for the cops. I wasn’t even remotely scared — there was no doubt in my mind that [if I could have found you], I could have handled the situation. And while I’m not a violent person, I’m pretty sure I could have persuaded you to let go of my bike one way or another. Maybe this is my naivety talking, I suppose you could have had a gun — but honestly, I got a look at you. You didn’t have a gun. You were scared of me. In fact, you were fucking petrified. Of a girl. And that girl? She wasn’t scared of you. I hope that bruises your ego, at least a little bit. So thanks for doing this right in front of me, instead of slinking around in the middle of the night. Thanks for letting me find out what I’m made of.

Thanks, also, for stealing my bike. Since you were obviously going to steal someone’s bike, I’m glad you chose mine, and not one that belonged to some high school kid who worked all summer to afford their first nice bike, who will never be able to replace it, who might have to quit riding bikes because of this. I have multiple bikes. I’m going for a ride today, in fact. This is not the first nice bike I’ve owned (although it is probably the most expensive, fuck you very much), and while I love my bikes, I don’t give them names. I’m sponsored (and *hopefully* insured) and I have a great team of people behind me who are going to help me keep this situation from affecting my race season. You stole my bike, not my soul. So I guess if this had to happen to someone, if it was me versus that kid, thanks for picking me.

Also, just so you know, you stole an extremely distinctive bike from an extremely well connected person. So, good luck unloading it.

And lastly, if by some crazy twist of fate you’re actually reading this — here’s what I want you to know.

I’m not going to say I forgive you, because, while I’m done wallowing in anger over here, I’ll leave the forgiveness to higher powers. That said, I do feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for the shit that has happened in your life that lead you to where you are now — that lead you to a place where nabbing someone’s bike in broad fucking daylight seemed like a reasonable life decision. I feel sorry for where your life is going because, no offense, you don’t exactly seem like a criminal mastermind and this shit is going to catch up to you, and if we’re being honest here, you’re going to get the short end of criminal justice stick. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but karma is a bitch.

I don’t forgive you, but I can almost understand you. I know what I must look like to you — some spoiled white kid with $20,000 of bikes hanging off the back of my car. I get that. I get that, from the outside, from the eyes of someone who is struggling, Sea Otter must look like this inane, ostentatious display of wealth and ludicrous, useless technology. It kind of is. And it is totally ridiculous, in the whole scheme of things, to have an $8,000 bicycle. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe that you didn’t think you were hurting me, that to you this was just like nabbing a handful of gummy bears from the grocery store bulk section or stealing a cool looking spoon from a fancy restaurant — who is it really hurting? Or maybe, you just didn’t care that you were hurting me, because you hate me, sight unseen, because I have so much while you have so little? Maybe you hate me without even knowing me, which, I guess, makes two of us. Or maybe you’re just a little shithead who thinks he’s God and doesn’t realize other people have feelings and bills to pay.

Sadly, I’ll probably never have a chance to find out.

All I can say is this — I really, really hope you stole my bike for a reason. I really hope you have kids to feed or bills to pay. I really hope you’re not selling my bike to buy crack — or if you are, I hope that you have people who care for you, who get you into rehab and give you a second chance. I hope that if you’re reading this 10 years from now, that you have a family and a real job and that you’ve grown into a responsible adult. Mainly, I hope you’re a good person who did a bad thing — because I believe in good people and I don’t want to change that because of one dumb kid.

I don’t forgive you. I definitely don’t like you. And I hope you get caught. But honestly, I wish you the best.

xoxo (and a punch in the face),

Syd

February 2015: It’s All About the Bike [Vlog]

I start every one of these update posts with something along the lines of “whoa is it already [insert month here]?!?!” I’m getting predictable enough that if this were someone else’s blog, I would probably make fun of them. So, I’m not going to say that this time, except, just kidding, I totally am, because WTF HOW IS IT MARCH WHAT IS HAPPENING. But forget March, we’re here to talk about February.

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Despite being only a confusing 28 days long, February was a big month. Lots of stuff happened. For starters, I changed the name of this blog to better reflect my focus on riding and racing bikes. I also starred (if you can call it that) in a little Valentine’s Day bike edit that Macky and Sean and I put together. It was featured on Pinkbike and got 38,000 views, plus 15,000 more on Vimeo/Youtube/FB. Yeeeeeek that is WAY more people than have ever wandered onto this website. Am I famous now??!?! I’m allowed to ponder this because no less than THREE (THREE!!!) strangers recognized me from the video. Whatttt.

Watch the video below:

February was also a big month for me because it was so singularly focused — life really was all about the bike. Contrast that to January, where we spent half the month traipsing around Southeast Asia, riding mopeds and eating Pad Thai. I’m not saying that our training was super structured (or structured at all, for that matter), just that we rode A LOT. 333.2 miles to be exact. And when we weren’t riding or eating, we were probably hanging out with bike people, talking about bikes or watching bike movies.

There was also a certain amount of silliness...

There was also a certain amount of silliness…

And I have to say, there is something really awesome about this kind of life (although it doesn’t always make for the most gripping blog posts). I am so grateful to have the time and the resources this year to actually dedicate most of my time to what I want to be doing. Last year at this time I was still trying to figure my shit out and agonizing over where I wanted to spend my energy — writing, riding bikes, trying to find a job? Now I’ve made up my mind and, as usual, I’m significantly happier having made that decision. I’m starting the year with 60 park laps, a lot of miles and a much stronger confidence in my ability to navigate a bicycle down a mountain. February was challenging, but ultimately rewarding, with lots of fun and ridiculousness tossed in there.

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And here’s our little VLOG from the month:

Travel the World and Stay in Shape (With Minimal Effort)

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Recently, I’ve been getting a lot of questions that boil down to this:

You travel a lot and you talk about burritos even more. How are you not fat?

Or this:

So, you’re a serious athlete who travels. I want to stay in shape while traveling, but I hate running. HALP ME PUHLEEEASE.

I find these questions pretty amusing, because basically I’m the last person on earth anyone should be asking for fitness advice. I haven’t run for longer than 15 minutes in YEARS and every time I read an article that’s like “10 Awesome Ab-Flattening Exercises YOU Can Do in Your Hotel Room!!” I throw up a little bit in my mouth. In fact, I should probably just redirect this entire topic to Macky since he’s the only one in our relationship who can follow a training plan for longer than, say, five minutes. And he does push-ups. In the airport. Oh and sometimes this happens:

And so, while I should turn this over to Macky, I’m not going to because when I got to thinking about it, I realized that I might have some helpful advice of my own. I can’t tell you how to stick to a training plan or resist that second donut (although I think the latter might involve divine intervention), but I CAN tell you how to travel the world, have fun, and stay healthy with minimal effort. And I feel like that might be of some interest.

Step One: Find your passion and pack it with you.

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This is the most important one.

Nobody (I repeat: NOBODY!) is passionate about doing push-ups in their hotel room. Not even Macky who, due to some bizarre genetic anomaly, was blessed with approximately 10 times the will-power of the average human-being. If Macky is doing push-ups in our hotel room, it’s because he’s so passionate about mountain biking that that passion has bubbled up and spilled out into other arenas of life. Or, in other words, he wants to be the best mountain biker ever and his coach has hinted that push-ups will help.

I'm not a huge fan of hiking, so I don't do it unless I'm too sick to ride my bike. And then I REALLY hate it...

I’m not a huge fan of hiking, so I don’t do it unless I’m too sick to ride my bike. And then I REALLY hate it…

What’s my point? If you don’t enjoy something, you won’t do it. End. of. cuento. So, here’s my advice: don’t bother trying. Instead, find the thing that you actually enjoy doing. Find the thing that keeps you up at night, wiggling your toes and wishing you were doing it. Instead of trying to fit twenty minutes of “exercise” into your travel day, structure your travel around your passion. Play all day, every day. Or, whenever you can, as much as you can.

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And so, if you’re a mountain biker or a surfer or a scuba diver or a skier, suck it up and pay the damn oversize baggage fees. If you’re into hiking or running or yoga or pilates, you’re in luck — your passion is relatively easy to pack.

Stairs at Machu Picchu = stellar cross-training!

Stairs at Machu Picchu = stellar cross-training!

If you’re reading this and rolling your eyes and thinking, but I hate ALL exercise — STOP. Travel is a fantastic time to find your passion if you haven’t already. Maybe you’ll go snorkeling in the Bahamas or spelunking in New Zealand and you’ll be like OMG THIS IS WHAT I AM MEANT TO BE DOING WITH MY LIFE. Or you’ll be like, that was horrifying, but at least I got some exercise. You can’t lose. The bottom line is this: stop looking for “exercise” and start looking for fun.

Step Two: Cook your own food.

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This is as much a budget tip as it is a health tip. You wouldn’t eat at restaurants every night of the week at home, so why would you do it traveling? This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sample local delicacies, but if you’re traveling for an extended period of time, you will have plenty of time to do so without eating out every night. As a whole, restaurant food tends to be greasier, saltier and more decadent than anything you would create yourself. Not to mention larger portion sizes. In New Zealand, Macky and I bought a $15 dollar camp stove and cooked delicious, real-food meals at our campsite almost every single night. In addition to having healthier food, we also got to be outside almost all the time, soaking up all sorts of Vitamin D and whatnot.

Salmon and veggies over cous cous, cooked on a campstove!

Salmon and veggies over cous cous, cooked on a campstove!

In terms of diet, it is my personal belief that the less you agonize over food the better. Eating is not nearly as complicated as today’s nutritional science pretends. Obviously if you have serious food intolerances, Celiac’s, Crohn’s, food allergies or other issues, you will have to think more about how you eat when you travel. However, for the rest of us, the simpler the better — eat real food (i.e, things that don’t come in packages) until you’re full, then stop. See how easy that was?

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Step Three: Recognize the difference between traveling and vacation.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to go all “real travelers do blah blah blah” on you. My only distinction here is time. In my book, vacations are under three weeks and they are an escape or aberration from your normal life. Everyone needs a vacation here and there. Travel is a more permanent state. I firmly believe it’s possibly to travel indefinitely — to vacation indefinitely? Not so much, because the central definition of vacation is “break” or “time-off.”

You will find plenty of articles on the Internet telling you not to overeat on vacation, or to do such-and-such body weight routine every morning. I am here to tell you that these articles do not have your best interests in mind. If you’re going on vacation, focus on having a good time, whatever that means to you. This is your body’s chance to recover from normal life, to relax, to explore, to do things you don’t normally do (and if that means stuffing yourself on Parisian pastries, then go for it, damnit, you’re on vacation).

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If you’re traveling for long periods of time, you have to take your health into account because traveling is your real life. I think that’s the hardest thing for long-term travelers to internalize, at least, from a fitness perspective. It’s very easy to think “I’m in some fantastic new place every day, I spend tons of time doing fun new stuff and exploring, this must not be real life.” But it is, and the more you take care of your body and your mind, the more fun it will be.

Step Four: Sleep. Seriously, please just SLEEP.

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There will be an urge, especially when you’ve just arrived in a new place, to stuff every minute of the day and night with fun activities. RESIST THAT URGE. Traveling, in and of itself, is exhausting. And when you’re traveling and spending all day doing something super fun (like, say riding laps at the local gravity park) you’re going to be tired. Accept it and go to sleep. And if you can, take a recovery drink. No, I’m not suggesting one of those random thick, chalky protein shakes, but an actual recovery drink that’s specifically designed to rehydrate you and help your muscles recover from a workout. And if you have trouble sleeping due to jetlag/too-much-excitement, Osmo Nutrition makes a sleep recovery drink that has saved my sanity on many a redeye flight.

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Step Five: Have a stockpile of healthy, emergency rations.

I’m lucky in that I don’t usually have huge junk food cravings. However, when I get hungry, I REALLY get hungry and I become quite miserable to be around. To avoid the hangries I will eat just about anything that is available. Gummy worms. Potato chips. I draw the line at anything that is unnaturally orange. While it’s best to avoid this state of starved desperation in the first place, it does happen, so I try to be prepared. Energy bars are the best option, as they can be stored indefinitely and always be on hand when you need them. Of course, I almost always HATE energy bars so this strategy hasn’t always worked out for me. Luckily, Macky and I recently started working with Taos Mountain Energy Bars, a local Taos company that makes bars that are, GET THIS, delicious. And I’m not just saying that because they give me free food. I swear. They are basically crack, only made out of all natural, real-food ingredients. So many wins.

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The bottom line is this: find something you like (and gummy worms DO NOT count) and keep a stash in your suitcase for those moments when the world seems to be collapsing down around your ears. Because, let’s be real, nothing is collapsing, you’re just hungry.

Step Six: Don’t drink like a frat boy.

Here is Macky double-fisting a Santa Fe Brewing Happy Camper and a Recovery Drink. Totally acceptable behavior.

Here is Macky double-fisting a Santa Fe Brewing Happy Camper and a Recovery Drink. Totally acceptable behavior.

I like beer just as much as the next person (probably more), but I almost never have more than one drink in a night. Especially not when I’m traveling and training at the same time. My body (not to mention my budget) just can’t take it. Again, this goes back to the whole vacation vs. travel dilemma. I don’t see travel as an extended holiday. It’s my life. I’m also just not someone who sees partying with thousands of strangers as a very good time. (More like nightmare.) So this isn’t a huge sacrifice for me. I think there are ways to work alcohol into a healthy travel lifestyle, but it’s important to know your own limits and listen to your body. If you get struck down with a cold the day after a night of partying, it’s not a coincidence. That’s your body saying “stop being a jerk.”

Added bonus: when you do let loose and have more than one beer, things get fun REAL FAST. Wooop woop!

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That’s really all the advice I have for the moment. Listen to your body and if you’re not having fun, make some changes. Fin. If you have more questions, or would like to hear about something else in particular, please don’t hesitate to write a comment or shoot me an email.

How do you stay in shape while you travel? Do you balance serious athletics with traveling? What are the challenges you have encountered?! Please share!

Fall in the Andes (From the Perspective of an Ex-Vermonter)

I love fall. It’s always been my favorite season. I really love it. I swear, I do. If it sounds like I’m getting a bit defensive here, it’s because, to be honest, recently I haven’t really ACTED like I loved fall. I’ve been, well, a pretty flaky lover of autumn.

My last real fall was 2012 — a full year and a half ago. I was in Vermont and it was perfect. Hot cider, crisp breezes, pumpkin carving, brewery tours, apple orchards, canoeing, goose-down vests and of course, the colors. Winter in Vermont may be an exercise is sadism, but fall is pretty damn nice.

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In 2013, I spent autumn in Monterey, California. Monterey does many things well (whales, for example) but fall is not one of them. Not that I’m REALLY complaining about 70 degree days in December, except well, fine, maybe I am.

Despite all my jet-setting and summer-chasing, until last week I hadn’t really internalized the fact that fall could take place outside of September, October and November. The only fall I’ve spent in the southern hemisphere was in Cordoba, Argentina, where hot, dry summer directly becomes cold, wet winter. I’m totally down with sun-bathing in January…but changing leaves and pumpkin lattes in April? Puhhhlease.

Luckily this is Chile and there are no pumpkin lattes to be found, so I didn’t have to suffer that particular existential crisis. Fall, however, is still here. In April. And it turns out I like it just as much as I do in October.

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And fall in the Andes? It’s nothing short of extraordinary.

You might be hard pressed to find a hipster in a goose-down vest sipping apple cider while lounging in an adirondak chair, but you will see beautiful reds and oranges offset by black volcanic soil and soaring snow-capped peaks. Top that, Vermont, I dare you.

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Photo Cred: Sean Leader

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And if you’re hankering for that perfect fall afternoon snack and the lack of maple-cheddar-apple paninis is getting you down, there is always kuchen, southern Chile’s iconic local desert, inexplicably named after the German word for cake despite bearing more similarity to pie. Oh and wine. Good ol’ five dollar bottle of Chilean wine will have you feeling the autumn spirit in no time.

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I purchased this particular kuchen, of the three-berry variety, out of the back of a random woman’s station wagon. She had about twelve pies lined up in the trunk, all set up like she was running a proper bakery. She then gave me her phone number so I could call her for empanadas or lasagne whenever I wanted. Brilliant.

(And I’m going to take a minor detour here and address my birth country personally: Dear USA, you do many things right but all this lawsuit, sue-happy nonsense has left your citizens sorely deprived of road-side pie. Please change. Love, Syd.)

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And yes, as beautiful as my first “real” fall in the southern hemisphere was, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around this fall in April thing — it just didn’t feel right. Instead of satisfying my fall-craving, it has me yearning for October in Vermont.

Have you ever spent your favorite season on the other side of the world? Share your thoughts below!

#fauxtogram | Laguna Seca

This is not a great photo, but I like it. In fact, I like it a lot, although I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because there is a sense of motion to it, with the trail extending out of the frame. There is possibility, adventure, something intangible going on here. Or maybe I like it because the sky is not blue, which is, as far as I can tell, a rare occurrence in Laguna Seca. This pewter winter sky adds more depth than the usual glaring California sunlight. Continue reading