A Dream on Two Wheels

Eight years ago, I bought my first road bike. I was living in the city, and all I could think about was becoming that person who could conquer mountains and big hills with ease. At the time, this felt like an impossible dream. I was around 260 pounds, and my benchmark was simply making it up Center Street hill in Calgary without being out of breath.

That hill was a beast. My chest would tighten, and I’d gasp for air, feeling both anxious and frustrated that my lungs couldn’t keep up. It was a constant reminder of my limitations. The feeling of defeat was so overwhelming that I’d deliberately avoid any bike route with a hill. I was convinced I was a failure before I even tried, a mindset that held me back in so many areas of my life.

Finding Freedom

Fast forward to the summer of 2022. I looked at my bike and asked myself, "Why am I limiting myself?" It was a pivotal moment. I got on that bike, and for the first time, I felt an immediate sense of freedom. I was already stronger, having lost some weight, and with it, some of the emotional baggage I had been carrying. I quickly realized that a moment of struggle wasn't a total failure, but just a benchmark to push past.

Biking became my new obsession. It was my morning routine, my rest day activity, and my preferred way to get around. The feeling of the wind on my face and navigating paths cars couldn't reach gave me a sense of control I hadn't felt in a long time. I started challenging myself, riding farther and farther.

Conquering the Hills

My first real test was the Legacy Trail from Canmore to Banff. I was terrified. The mountains seemed reserved for "fit" people, and I worried about being seen if I couldn't make it. My fear came true on the first hill—I had to get off and walk. But instead of feeling defeated, I saw it as a starting point. No one cared, no one judged me. It was all in my head.

This small victory led to bigger goals. I rode the Bow Valley Parkway to Lake Louise, a 120 km round trip. My motivation was a promised T-shirt at the end. When I arrived, they were out of shirts and only offered a free beer. In that moment of disappointment, a more powerful realization hit me: I didn't need a T-shirt as proof. The accomplishment was mine alone. I celebrated with a fried chicken sandwich and a feeling of pride that no reward could match.

A Dedication to a Friend

In 2023, I signed up for the Kootenay Gran Fondo. This ride was for a younger me, a way to prove I could conquer mountains. My best friend, Nikki, was going to join me. Tragically, she passed away unexpectedly that February. I felt lost, but I knew I had to do the ride for her. I wore a necklace she gave me, and on that 58 km ride, I felt her with me. Whenever I doubted myself, I could hear her voice encouraging me to keep going. I even met two kind strangers who rode with me and reminded me to do things that bring me joy and to honor the ones who came into my life.

The Ultimate Climb

This year, I set out to ride the 102 km race. I had gained some weight since 2023 and felt nervous. I kept thinking, "There's no way I can do this." But then I remembered the woman who used to avoid hills, who was so afraid of failure she wouldn't even try. I looked that defeat in the face and said, "Fuck it, I'm going to try."

This race was a journey through my life. When the hills got tough, I told myself, "This is nothing compared to the mental abuse you went through. If you made it out of that, you can make it up this hill." Every pedal stroke was a victory over the emotional and physical climbs I had overcome. Reaching the top of each hill, I would cry, a mix of relief and pride, reflecting on how far I've come. I’ve faced mental breakdowns, loss of work, and new diagnoses, but I've also found love, traveled, and become the woman I always dreamed of being.

When I crossed that finish line, all I could hear was my husband cheering, "WOOHOO, SARA MAITRE! 102 KM!" In that moment, I didn't feel tired or hungry. I just felt pure joy, and all I could say was, "I did it! Can you believe it?"

A Winner in Life

Looking at the photo of my husband and me at the finish line, I don't see someone worried about what she looks like. I see a strong, confident woman who is unapologetic about taking up space. I see someone who chose herself and found abundance because of it.

That first bike ride taught me a profound lesson: sometimes the smallest, most unintentional decisions can have the biggest impacts. My journey with biking is a symbolic representation of my life. There will be uphill climbs, but what matters is that you keep showing up. You can take breaks when you need to, and you can go at your own pace. Don't be afraid of "failing," because simply getting out there and trying is a success in itself.

So, to anyone reading this, know that you are a winner. Keep showing up for yourself in the easy times, the hard times, the boring times, and the exciting times. I am cheering you on, because you are worth it.