I’m the mother of teen-age boys, two of them, ages 18 and 15. I have a husband of 20 years. I own a home and a bookkeeping business. I have employees. I have an aging mother-in-law who needs a lot of attention. I am part of an active family. We sail, we ride horses, we snowboard, we ride bikes. My plate is very full, sometimes so full the contents spill over onto the floor and things get messy. Somehow in these years that I have been raising a family and running a business, I had forgotten to nurture myself, and somewhere along the way I became a little tired of being the caregiver. I began looking for an outside interest that would be all mine. Quite innocently, I entered the world of professional cycling….and along the way I rediscovered myself and made new friends.

My interest in cycling originally started with reading a book about the life of Lance Armstrong, learning of his cancer story, and following his repeat successes in Tours de France. As my interest grew, I started surfing the internet and reading interesting and informative websites and forums that catered to cycle nuts. I became exposed to a huge group of fans world-wide that loved, loved, LOVED professional cycling. I started following European races, marking dates of the Classics on my desk calendar at work. I watched television listings for anything cycling-related. I started buying cycling magazines because the photos were so awesome. I started recognizing riders by sight or team kit. Oh yes, I was getting hooked.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had the belief I should be more than an bookkeeper: I should also be a journalist! And I should cover bike races! So I volunteered to do so for the Daily Peloton, with my first exposure to the sport being US Postal’s winter training camp in Solvang, California, near my office. Scared out of my wits, I attended my first press conference, I met real journalists, I talked with professional riders, and I felt like the newest member of some cool club: some cool club that had nice people as members! People that were friendly and helpful, all with the common denominator of loving cycling.

Then it became time to step up again, to reach beyond my little caregiver world, so I volunteered to cover the Tour de Georgia bike race in April, 2004. At first I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Basically, I knew very little about cycling and even less about journalism. My first day was a constant wonder of many things: Will I have something to write about? Will I recognize Bobby Julich? Can I download pictures to my laptop and send them to the website? What if I forget to take the right stuff to the race in my backpack? What am I going to do all week by myself?

I’ve never had trouble making friends. I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everyone else, and strong bonds were made that carried over into my adult life. I was fortunate that way, always knowing there were people out there who cared and would help hold me up if I needed a boost. But here at this bike race I didn’t know a soul. I chatted casually with a few people at the press conferences, but mostly I was alone and trying to do a new job I wasn’t sure I was qualified for. I spent a few panicked hours taking pictures and writing about my experiences, taking my meals in my room because I was trying to stay focused on my writing and I didn’t know anyone to eat with anyway.

On the third day, the photographer for the website arrived, and suddenly SHE was panicked and disorganized and nervous about her new job, and here I was assuring her she’d be fine, she’d only have one hard day as she found her groove, and that together we’d get stories and photos published on the web. And beyond that we might have some fun, too. Afterall, we were covering the premiere professional cycling event in the United States, and we had press badges hanging around our necks! Press passes for God’s sake! We could stand on the finish line and watch our heroes compete up close and personal!

Celia and I worked and played together for a week. She shot images and I wrote stories. We stayed in hotels all across Georgia and traveled back roads in search of the peloton. We logged hundreds and hundreds of miles on our cars and our bodies. We weren’t racing, but by the end of the day we were exhausted. Sometimes we forgot to eat during the day, but every night we checked into our room, plugged in all our electronic gadgets to recharge overnight, looked at photos and wrote stories, ate good dinners and talked about cycling, our favorite teams, our families, our lives. We realized early on how comfortable we were with each other and somehow it started to feel like we were at camp. Yep, two grown women in their forties were at Cycling Camp! We shared thrilling moments on the steep mountainsides of Georgia, screaming to the athletes as they struggled up hill. We made new friends that had traveled far and wide just as we had to end up right on that curvy road waiting for the cyclists to come by. We laughed, we screamed, we snapped images, and we were on a cycling high. The Tour de Georgia wore us out, but we left with enormous grins on our faces, and new friendships in our hearts. My love of cycling gave me a new friend, and I have a feeling it’s a friendship that will last and last.

Professional cycling is a small community and what I love most about it is the people that call themselves riders and fans. I step back to admire the riders and their dedication to their sport. They train relentlessly and usually have so few victories as pay offs for that hard work. But they continue to work hard and sacrifice for others on their team. When I talk to cyclists or hear their comments, it’s usually about what they are willing to do for a team member on any given day. When I talk with fans and with my cycling friends, I love the sense of community I feel with these people. I love the fact that we share a love of professional cycling, and we like to swap tales about favorite riders and teams. Beyond that, I feel like I have truly become part of a community of good people, people who care about others, who like being part of a team that is greater than the sum of its parts. I love riding in this particular peloton. It feels like the perfect ride.