#I’ve been wanting to go to a mountain stage or a TT since the beginning

[sportsallover]

I may be going to see the second TT next year for the Tour de France!!!

[avis-writeshq]

Damian Wayne x Reader: Bully Part 3

Thank you @strawbeari2 and anon for requesting! This series is going quite a long way >.<… this is probably gonna be the longest and the last part! Oh, I forgot to mention, this is also the first fic of the Christmas in July series. I haven’t gotten the prompt list out yet, but feel free to request something with that theme! xoxo

 Requested: Yes

Warnings: crap writing… and a lot of fluff *cough*

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2,664

 Things you probably wanna know, for all you ‘x reader’ illiterates:

(Y/N): Your Name

(H/C): Hair Colour / Color

(E/C): Eye Colour / Color

(B/F/N): Best Friend’s Name

***

“I didn’t know you were into art,” you said as you walked around the art gallery. Each painting either had a strange burst of colour or was black and white in a depressing way. Maybe that’s why Damian liked art so much…

“It’s a way to express my… non-existent feelings,” Damian shrugged in a poor attempt to make a joke. To his surprise, you let out a giggle.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Perhaps.”

You let out a laugh, covering your mouth when a man gave you an irritated look. “What’s gotten into you today? Calling me nicknames, taking me to an art gallery, telling jokes… are you sure you’re not sick, Dami?”

“Why would I be sick?” He raised an eyebrow. “I am me, aren’t I?”

“Yeah… but you’ve never really seemed to enjoy talking to me,” you shrugged, offering a slanted smile. “I didn’t think we were friends.”

Damian could feel the guilt beginning to eat the insides of him. It was true; he didn’t want to enjoy the way you spent time with him. But you slowly began to grow on him. “Why wouldn’t we be friends?”

You looked up at him, biting your lip. “You’re right. It’s silly. Hey, why don’t we go check out the Christmas art edition?”

“Of course,” Damian nodded, gently holding onto your wrist. “Let’s go.”

***

Ever since the incident with the bullies 3 years ago, Damian promised himself that he was never going to go to his brothers for help. That was definitely a promise he could get behind… or so he thought. Truthfully, Damian had no idea about love or what a ‘crush’ even was. But there was no way he was going to be able to talk about it without another finding out. So, he decided to ask them all at the same time.

It was a peaceful evening at Wayne Manor, and for once they were all present for Christmas break. Well, Dick was in another room playing with Batcow. They sat at the dining table, all talking heartily amongst themselves. Well, Jason was on his phone while Tim and Bruce talked about statistics and whatnot. Just as Alfred was about to hand out the entrees, Damian decided to speak.

“How do you know if you’re in love?”

Silence. The whole room was filled with silence. They all gaped at him like he had two heads while Damian just raised an eyebrow at them. It was only when there was a loud ‘crash’ from the room Dick was in and a huge, “WHAT?!” did they start to freak out.

Dick came running from the next room, holding onto Damian’s shoulders while shaking him rapidly. “YOU’RE IN LOVE?!”

Damian scoffed, pulling away from his older brother’s grasp. “Who knows? Clearly not you, Grayson, considering the mountain of girls you brought home over the years. I don’t expect you to know.”

The older man pouted, shooting a glare at him. “I have fallen in love before…”

“Damian, what brought this along?” His father prompted, taking a sip from his wine. “Is everything okay at school?”

The green-eyed boy shrugged. “School is fine, Father. It was merely a question that I would like to be addressed. Surely you have felt it with Selina Kyle. Or Drake with Stephanie.”

“Well, Stephanie and I are definitely in the ‘in love’ stage by now,” Tim snickered from behind his hand. “But how do you know? I guess you just… feel it.”

Oh, Damian definitely felt it. Every single time you walked into the room, it felt as if his heart skipped a beat. And your smile? Dear god, he needed help. You were one of the most amazing things he has ever encountered. You were persistent, and it almost annoyed him in a weirdly adorable way.

“I’ve never been in love,” Jason boasted, a proud smirk on his face.

“Oh, really? What about Ari?” Dick raised an eyebrow, a teasing tone in his voice.

The gun enthusiast scowled, scooping pumpkin soup from his bowl.

“Right…” Damian said slowly. “Well, if I may be excused, I’m going to train.”

“You haven’t finished dinner yet,” Bruce pointed out, putting down his napkin. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.” And with that, Damian left the dining room.

“Yeah, he’s totally in love,” Tim said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But with who?”

***

The following weekend, Damian invited you over to the manor. Dick had just come back to Gotham a few days prior, and you definitely wanted to see the whole Wayne family in one go. You clearly didn’t know about their ‘nightly activities’, and Damian was perfectly fine with it. After all, there was no way he could risk your safety.

“How many times have I been to your mansion again?” You giggled, rolling your eyes as Damian listed off possible things that could happen during your stay.

“Too many to count,” he sighed, grip tightening on the bag of presents you brought. “But you know what they’re like when they’re all together.”

“Yeah, I do not want to re-live that,” you said, faking a shudder.

Last year when the whole family was back together, you decided to visit them during the Easter Holidays. Jason had come back from his holiday in Arizona (truthfully, it was nothing close to a holiday) and Dick was visiting from Bludhaven. It was the first time you’ve seen them all together, and it was much livelier than you expected. They all practically trampled you before you could even take a step into the household, and you were sure Tim was scared for life when he accidentally walked into the bathroom when you were doing your business. At least now you were slightly more prepared to see them all. Always bring three extra locks to the bathroom.

“Just be prepared, okay, (N/N)?” He sighed.

“When have I not?” A smirk played at your lips as you looked up at him innocently.

It was getting colder and colder, so you were relieved when you finally saw the familiar evergreen trees that were in front of Wayne Manor. Quickening your pace, you arrived at their doorstep, Damian right behind you. Pressing on the doorbell, you waited. It wasn’t even 5 seconds later when there was a loud ‘screech!’ and a loud crash. You were sure you heard Mr. Pennyworth let out a yowl as well.

“(Y/N)! We were… expecting someone else!” Jason said in a very straightforward way.

You raised an eyebrow, turning to Damian whose cheeks became very pink. And you weren’t sure if it was from the cold. “As much as I am curious to know who you were expecting, can you please let me inside? I have presents, and unless you want to miss out on them, I suggest stepping to the side.”

Almost immediately, all 3 of them took a step to the left and formed a straight line. “You’re the only one who can get them to do that,” Damian said, eyes glistening in admiration. “I’ll take your bags upstairs if you would like.”

“I can take them up,” you said softly. “But I am definitely taking the presents. Strangely enough, I don’t trust you.”

“That wounds me, (N/N),” the boy said, rolling his eyes and placing a hand on his heart.

You let out a laugh, poking him on the nose before snatching the plastic bag out of his hands. “Au revoir, humans!” You yelled, before climbing up the stairs, Damian watching you go.

Meanwhile, Tim, Jason, and Dick were watching your interactions, sly smirks growing on their faces. Tim was the first to speak up, “Oh, I see it now. You’re in love with (Y/N).”

Damian scoffed at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “TT, you really do surprise me with your idiocy, Drake. I assure you, (Y/N) and I are just friends.”

“So why do you call her (N/N)?” Dick asked cheekily.

“And why did you offer to take her bags?” Jason smirked.

“I thought you wanted me to have a better connection with (L/N),” Damian grumbled. “There’s just no pleasing you.”

 Later that night, you were seated in the dining room of Wayne Manor. From the corner of your eye, you saw Tim whisper something to Bruce who nodded. “Apologies, (Y/N), but we must leave for the night. There’s been an emergency at Wayne Enterprises.”

You frowned at these words. “On Christmas Week?”

“Unfortunately,” Jason said with mock sympathy. “We’ll be back before you know it, kid. Besides, Damian will be there.”

At that, the said boy almost dropped his fork, shooting a not-so-subtle glare at his older brother. “Of course I will be.”

“Oh…” you nodded in understanding, “well, have fun!”

 Before long, you and Damian agreed to watch a movie after he took a shower and got everything ready. While you waited, you scrolled through the news on your laptop. So far, nothing was interesting until your gaze fell at one particular article. ‘Batman and his Associates Spotted While Fighting Poison Ivy’. Curiosity overtook you and you scanned through the article.

‘At 7:48 on the 21st of December, Batman and his associates, Red Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing were spotted fighting the famed villain Poison Ivy’. You furrowed your eyebrows as you read the first sentence. 7:48 at night? That was 10 minutes after Bruce and the others excused themselves this evening. And, hold on a minute, Nightwing was meant to be in Bludhaven, not Gotham. So what was he doing here? And where in tarnation was Robin, the vigilante who saved you months prior?

A salty feeling was left in your mouth. There was no way Bruce Wayne could be Batman, could there? And, if he was Batman, that meant Dick was Nightwing, Red Robin was Tim and Red Hood was Jason. But that meant… a chill ran down your spine. Damian, your Damian, was Robin? The vigilante known for fighting and putting himself in danger? No, that was impossible! Or… was it?

Your stomach lurched at the thought. Wait. You had to find some solid proof that they were the masked vigilantes everyone knew and (probably?) loved. The most questionable thing was: where was the Bat Cave? In their basement? You snickered at the thought. No, that was a little out of the ordinary. You would have seen it at some point. Unless…

Out of all the books in Bruce’s study, there was only one that didn’t have any dust on it. Curiously, you pulled the book towards you and in almost an instant, the wall opened up. You gaped at the hole in the wall, looking around to see if Damian was anywhere. He didn’t seem to be following you… using the flash on your phone as a torch, you slowly walked down the stairs. When your feet met even ground, you were met with a swarm of bats. Waving your arms around like a mad man, you ran around the bat cave multiple times, only to run into a very tall sturdy thing. Oh, wait. This isn’t good.

“What are you doing here?” Damian asked, looking down on you. You flinched. Now you were definitely scared.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Robin?” Your voice was nothing but a mere whisper and you could hear the blood pounding in your ears.

“How did you find out?”

“I connected the dots,” you said coldly, regretting it almost instantly, “I know that Tim is Red Robin, Jay is Red Hood and Dick is Nightwing. And I know that Bruce is Batman.”

Damian shut his eyes tightly, wishing that this was all a bad dream. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

“Why not?” You countered, frowning at him. “I would have found out sooner or later. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to keep you safe.” The way he said it… your heart thundered in your chest as you looked up at his emerald green eyes. “I didn’t want to make you into a target.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you muttered before letting out a dry laugh. “How do you think I feel? You’re the one running around putting yourself in danger.”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me, (N/N). You’re always putting people in front of yourself and it scares me sometimes.” His mind wandered back to the time he saved you, and from the look in your eyes, he could tell that you were, too.

“Well, you do that too, don’t you?” You gave a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry.”

“For finding out?” Damian shook his head, “don’t be. Now, come on, I prepared your favourite movie.”

“The Nutcracker?” You giggled. “I thought you forgot.”

“I never forget.” He offered you a hand which you gratefully took.

“Damian,” you said softly, looking up at him, “why do you care so much?”

Why did he care so much? “Because… because you didn’t give up on me.”

You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand a little tighter as you walked up the stairs from the Bat Cave. “I’ll never give up on you, Dami. You mean too much to me.”

“Likewise, (N/N).”

The movie soon became forgotten as you sat cross-legged on the couch, Damian sitting lazily in front of you. He was telling you about the latest heist at the harbour, when Bruce, Tim, Dick and Jason walked casually into the room.

“Hey, guys,” you said from the couch, pulling your attention from Damian for a few moments. “How was the mission?”

“Oh, it was good- wait, you knew?!” Dick gaped at you. “Damian, did you tell her?”

At that, the said boy let out a scoff. “You have no faith in me, Grayson. Of course, I didn’t tell her. She figured it out herself.”

You grinned in triumph at them, letting out a guffaw at their bemused faces. “I’m not that stupid, you know.”

“Right…” Jason eyes you wearily while Bruce was still wondering if he should scold you or congratulate you for the find. “I’m just going to pretend this never happened and leave…”

“For once, I’m going to agree with you,” Tim said, following him out the room.

You shrugged before turning back to Damian. “So, what happened to Two-Face?”

“He’s still in the Asylum, obviously. He’s going mad there, I presume.”

“Wait… I never got to ask.” At this point, Bruce had left the room in search of Alfred. “If you’re Bruce’s biological son, who’s your mother?”

The green eyed boy stiffened, shifting uncomfortably.

Your eyes widened in realisation. “Oh, I didn’t mean to pry…”

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting the question,” Damian dismissed. “My mother is Talia Al Ghul, a leader in the League of Assassins. I was born from an artificial womb and trained to kill innocent people.” At that, he cringed. “It’s a lot worse than it sounds. When Father took me in, he taught me his customs. He taught me not to kill. But I don’t think he was the real reason I stopped.”

You frowned at him, cocking your head to the side. “Then who is?”

“You,” Damian admitted truthfully. “You never gave up on me and you were… pure.”

You let out a small chuckle, rolling your eyes. “I’m not that pure, Dami.”

The two of you were sitting closer together, and you never noticed how… beautiful Damian’s eyes were. They were an enticing shade of emerald green with soft blue accents. You bit your lip at each thought that popped through your head after.

“(Y/N)…”  Damian’s voice was a whisper and his soft minty breath fanned your face. “I think I’m in love with you.”

You smiled at him, (E/C) eyes twinkling. “I love you too.”

“May I kiss you?”

In your response, you hesitantly pressed your lips against his, smiling as you did.

In that moment, Damian learned what it really meant to love. And he vowed to himself that he was never going to let anything happen to you. Never.

//End//

Part 1 here Part 2 here

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@nana-akishima @strawbeari2 @ it-is-burnt-sienna @dest-ai-ni (idk why these tags aren’t working ;-;)

[jessicaptain]

If you weren’t a climber there was an ice cube’s chance in hell you’d podium in the three races. Friday was an uphill time trial. Saturday was a time trial in Hygiene, which, flatter than the other two days, still had quite the hill to overcome. And Sunday, glorious Sunday, was a 36-mile road race, which pretty much felt like another hill climb, but longer, with more ugly-face efforts.

  Friday: Eldora Uphill Time Trial

I wasn’t sure if it’d be more beneficial to bring my time trial bike or my road bike for this course. Half of the 7.5-mile course was relatively flat and I knew the TT bike, Zissou, would be beneficial for aerodynamics, but the other half of the course was a gnarly hill climb, which favored my road bike, Thunder. I opted for Thunder because I didn’t want to haul Zissou up the side of a mountain.

I honestly didn’t expect much from me or Thunder seeing as how I had yet to make the podium so far this season. I was up against some stiff competition in the likes of Anna and Andie, so I figured I was just paying for training and you know, the experience.

As I continued to warm-up on a side road, my bike didn’t want to shift to the little ring. I had a mini panic because that’s the bike’s job. Especially if I’m climbing up a steep ass hill.

I lined up with the other strong women, who you knew, had to be good at climbing because it takes a special kind of crazy to drive deep into the mountains on a work day to pedal uphill.

Ever since my bike fit with Pat last season, I’ve been conscious of holding my handlebars at the top instead of adamantly staying in the drops. I was so strict about following Pat’s orders that I completely spaced the aerodynamics of the drops at the beginning of this race.

More focused on pacing myself and watching my watts, I was quickly reminded by Alison Powers (nbd) who shouted at me from the side to “get in your drops!”

All I could do was laugh because duh.

My goal for the race was to keep Anna in sight. I knew it would be damn near impossible to catch her so I set lower expectations. Any time I couldn’t see her, I tried picking up the pace. At the same time, I kept an eye out for Andie who started after me. I’m surprised I didn’t get motion sickness from swiveling my head around so often.

The Hill wasn’t letting up and neither was Anna. She was quickly out of sight so I focused on my own efforts. My cadence was fast enough to churn butter. I didn’t see the other women behind me but I assumed I wouldn’t make Top Three.

There was no way, I thought. The other women are stronger than me. I haven’t been making the podium. Today’s not going to be any different.

The course winded around the hillside. People lined up along the edge with cowbells and music blaring. There were a couple of people taking pity on us, cheering just to cheer, but didn’t personally care how well we did. No one knew who I was or what pedal RACING was all about. I was just another cyclist who loved the pain of hills.

As I shifted gears, I came over the corner and saw the finish line. The announcer hanging out in a camping chair calmly saying over his mic, “here comes Jessica McWhirt” with pedal RACING. Then I heard Stephen yell out, “GO JESSICA.” I smiled as I pedaled over the white line taped across the road.

I had lost my voice I was breathing so hard. My legs quivered as I dismounted my bike to talk to Stephen and Anna. We watched and cheered for Andie, Jessica, and Sandy, I didn’t want to stay too long after the race and I was convinced I wasn’t making top three.

We knew Anna came in first, in which I called her out for thinking she’d do any less and I made some self-deprecating joke about my race performance. Then Stephen walked up to our group with the race results: “You came in second so now you can’t talk.”

I started cheering, “I’m number two! I’m number two!” like they do in that Ellen Page roller derby movie. Even when I came in second I was still self-deprecating.

I immediately texted Chris, my mom, and sister to tell them I finally placed in a race. I was pretty stoked.

I’m not sure if it’s easier to believe you’re going to win and be disappointed when you don’t or if it’s easier to set low expectations because then you’re pleasantly surprised with your results. I’ve always stuck with the latter. And I think that’s what has made racing so much harder than it needs to be. I focus entirely too much on results rather than this “journey” everyone tells us it’s all about.

I think it’s both. If I didn’t care about my results I wouldn’t train as hard as I do. I wouldn’t look at what I did wrong in a race and try to figure out how to do better the next time. But when I only focus on my placing and not the fact that I’m challenging my mind and body, overcoming fears and setbacks, and having the opportunity to race against badass women then it’s less fun and I get burnt out.

  Saturday: Hygiene Time Trial

Today’s race line-up was reversed based on times. Jessica was first, followed by Andie, myself, and Anna. My goal was to not only try to pass Andie and Jessica, but to stay ahead of Anna.

Here’s what’s impressive: Jessica, Andie, and I all had TT bikes. Anna had her road bike and passed all of us.

You can have the fanciest bike but unless you have a powerful engine, your bike gadgets don’t mean shit.

Trying to stay at a steady pace while also trying to catch Andie, I was also focused on staying ahead of Anna. I was pedaling into the first hill and I could just feel her. I didn’t have to look behind me to know Anna was closing in. Then I heard shifting that wasn’t mine. Within the first mile, Anna caught me.

I yelled, “nooooo!” And then followed it with, “go get it!”

I was asked recently how are the other women whom I race against. “They’re awesome,” I said.

Sure, we are there to beat one another on the course, but off the course, we chat, we joke, and we congratulate each other. I’ve yet to have a bad experience with another female racer. I also don’t look for it though.

I go to the race with encouragement and humor. I want all of us to do well, to set PR’s, and accomplish goals. I don’t want to see anyone getting hurt or treated badly. I’m there to win but I’m also there to encourage the women next to me.

I watched Anna grow smaller and smaller ahead of me as Andie grew bigger. I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d pass her. This is where I lack strategy. Like when do I push it past her? How hard should I push? Am I pacing myself correctly?

We hit a flat section on the course so I turned up my watts. As I closed the gap between us, some random dude (who apparently doesn’t know basic cycling etiquette) cycles past me on my right without announcing himself. I’m lucky I didn’t cut over to the right fast otherwise I’m sure we would have crashed.

I waited for him to pass and then loudly announced my passing to Andie. I tried staying off the dude’s wheel as I hauled past her. I searched ahead for Jessica but couldn’t see her. I wasn’t sure what place I’d get, but I knew every second counted.

I took a slow right-hand turn and booked it to the finish line. Completely spent but energized by the race. Again, I didn’t think I’d place because I’m always quick to disregard my abilities. I rolled up to Anna at the registration area where other cyclists gathered to share their race efforts with each other.

I didn’t really want to know my placement, but at the same time, I was curious to find out where I placed since I passed Andie but never caught up to Jessica.

I was 9 seconds faster than Jessica. Anna blew me out of the water by two minutes. I hung around for the podium because I finally made it to the steps. We joked about flexing our quads as we stood atop the wooden boxes. After a very mediocre season thus far, it was a relief to finally have my name called.

  Sunday: Lyons to Nederland Road Race

It’s classified as a road race, but let’s be honest, it’s a 36-mile hill climb.

Having two days of racing back-to-back then racing this bastard of a race, I knew would be a challenge. I tried getting extra sleep, dialing in my nutrition, and recovering properly, but if you’re not ready, then you’re just not ready.

I lined up with the women and made a couple of jokes out of nervousness. Knowing full well I was tired and that there were strong women next to me, my goal was to try to stay with the group.

It was a neutral start, which simply means we slowly follow a vehicle to a certain point and then we can go race-pace. I learned from my last road race at Superior Morgul that if I hold the front more often than not, I’m going to be tired at the finish.

I was at the front at the start of the race, I don’t know, hoping to set the pace, next to Anna, and realized I did not want to be at the front, especially next to Anna. I knew my pace was child’s play compared to hers, so I dropped back and held on to her wheel as long as I could.

We were maybe three miles in and just like most of the road races this season, the group maintained speed and I couldn’t. I saw Anna, cool as a cucumber pedal off, as a group of five other women sucked her wheel.

And there I was. Trying to focus on breathing and counting my pedal strokes when Julie, my teammate, came up alongside of me. I jumped on her wheel among the rest of the group. There was probably 8 of us or so. Julie and I pulled for a while.

And seriously, it was just a fucking grind. There is no better way to put it. The road continued at an incline. There was no recovery. Slowly, women dropped off the group. I told myself I couldn’t lose the group. It would have been unbearable to Time Trial that race with the headwind and never-ending hill.

A couple MW 40+ attacked trying to drop as many of us as they could. As I pushed and pulled up on the pedals, my hamstring seized up. I didn’t have experience dealing with major muscle cramps so I didn’t know what to do.

The group was pulling away, my right hamstring was cramping, I was letting off the pedals in hopes that the cramp would pass, and I realized there were still ten miles left before the finish.

I had to make a choice and it had to be fast: suffer for the next minute to catch the group and hope the pain would disappear or pull back, let the cramp dissipate, and time trial alone for ten grueling miles that I knew would feel so much worse.

I shifted gears, stood out of my saddle, and pedaled my ass off until I caught back up to the group. One Cat 3 woman was left behind in the headwind and never-ending hill. And as I caught up to the group, the sigh of relief was both for myself and the would-have-been-miserable Jessica I didn’t leave behind.  

The women attacked again. We countered. I was hanging on by a thread. I wanted to rest. I wanted them to ease up. Hell, I would have been thrilled if someone was like, “Let’s take it easy for the next mile.” It wasn’t happening. We hit a downhill and I found myself stuck behind a nervous Cat 3 descender, much like myself. We lost the group. I told her we could work together until the finish. I hadn’t preview the route because why would I do that? It would have only been just a little beneficial.

I’m being sarcastic.

Because I didn’t know what to expect the last mile or so of the course, I blew out my legs on the last big climb. There were cars parked at the top, people standing around, waiting for their family member or friend, and it looked like the BRAC trailer was there too. I took it up a notch (because I definitely didn’t have the energy to sprint) and saw her drop back. As I pedaled closer to what I thought was the finish, I soon realize I still have 300 km to go. If I didn’t have such big sunglasses, the crowd would have seen my panicky eyes looking for the finish.

Laura caught up to me. I was gassed and regretful that I spent my remaining energy on a false finish. We went back and forth the last 300 km. She’d get ahead, then I would. Neither of us seemed to know where the fuck the finish line was. I even said that out loud as we hauled up the rest of the way: “Jesus, where the fuck is the finish line?” There were more people up ahead. I saw the 100 km sign. I tried to muster by last bit of energy, but I was totally spent. Laura was ahead at the finish line and beat me by a few seconds. I ended up fifth, which wasn’t a surprise.

Anna had been finished for 12 minutes by the time I finished. It’s inspiring to see someone excel so quickly and humbly like Anna.

While I was bummed about my mediocre finish, I was excited to see my husband waiting for me at the end. When you give so much of yourself to a race, you also seem to lose a bit of yourself at the same time. When you’re expecting better results and they don’t come, it’s discouraging. When you see other competitors kicking ass, you wonder what you’re doing wrong. We’re told not to compare ourselves to others; to race our own race, but what is competition if not trying to be the best? You compete to win. How you define “winning” is up to every individual.

I struggle between the notion of competing against myself and against others. I race because I like the competitive aspect of it, even when I hate it. I also race because it makes me stronger and faster than before. And because I’m competitive, I can’t stand losing. It makes me feel like a failure; like a poseur. Like, if I’m not winning, how can I lead a team of women racers? If I’m not winning, what will my family be proud of me for? If I’m not winning, how can I be proud of myself? I see plenty PR’s on Strava, but seeing a PR on a segment is much different than seeing my name next to #1.

It’s important to find that balance between self-improvement and competition. And I think it comes down to self-compassion. We end up being our biggest bullies instead of our biggest fans. You can be competitive AND self-compassionate and I’m trying my best to learn and implement that.

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