From the Ground Up: A Comeback at the ASU Sun Devil Criterium

This Saturday, March 29th, 2025, marks exactly two years to the day since my ACL surgery. The moment I’ve worked tirelessly toward, the culmination of countless hours of training, recovery, and mental fortitude, has arrived. At 9 AM, I’ll be lining up at the ASU Research Park (8031 S Research Drive, Tempe, AZ 85284) for my first-ever criterium — the ASU Sun Devil Criterium. For me, this race is not just another event on the calendar. It’s a comeback. A moment of personal victory, a chance to stand at the starting line after years of pain, setbacks, and self-doubt.

But this day isn’t just about me. It’s about every rider who has ever pushed themselves to the limit, who has fought through their own trials, whether physical or mental. This race, this moment, represents something much bigger than a single individual. It represents the spirit of resilience, the collective will to overcome obstacles, and the unspoken bond we share as athletes and human beings. It’s about everyone who has ever faced adversity and chosen not to let it define them.

If you’re in the area, I invite you to come out and cheer us on. Your support isn’t just background noise or clapping hands, it’s fuel. It’s the energy that propels us forward when our legs feel like they can’t go any further. It’s the heartbeat of the race, the rhythm that drives us all. Trust me when I say, it means more than you can possibly know.

This race may seem insignificant to some, just another event in a crowded racing calendar. But for me, this is a dream ten years in the making, a journey through darkness and doubt, but also one of healing and growth. Cycling has always been my passion, my escape, and the way I’ve felt alive. Yet, life has a way of testing us, breaking us down before we’re able to rise again. And over the years, I’ve been broken more times than I care to admit.

The Accident That Changed Everything

In 2017, I was hit by a car while riding. A hit-and-run. I still don’t know who did it or why they chose to leave me in the street, but I remember the moments that followed: the blinding pain, the confusion, and the overwhelming question that echoed through my mind: Why me? That day shattered something deep inside me. It wasn’t just my body that was broken, it was my spirit. I spent years lost, wandering through a fog of frustration, trying to piece myself back together. Trying to find that spark of determination, of fire, that cycling had once given me.

It took time. It took therapy, both physical and mental, but I slowly started to rebuild. I got back on the bike, not because I was completely healed, but because it was the only thing that made me feel like myself again.

A Second Blow: The ACL Injury

Then, in 2021, just as I felt I was starting to get my rhythm back, disaster struck again. I crashed. Hard. I tore my ACL but, in true stubborn fashion, I kept riding through the pain. Maybe it was denial. Maybe it was fear, fear of surgery, fear of being off the bike, of losing a part of myself that cycling had given me. But as much as I tried to push through it, I couldn’t ignore the truth: my body wasn’t the same. Every ride became a struggle, every pedal stroke a reminder of what was broken. And yet, even then, there was this part of me that refused to quit. There was this tiny voice inside that told me, You’re not done. You’re not finished. You can rise again. But it took months before I finally listened to that voice and made the decision to have surgery.

The Recovery: A Journey of Patience

The road to recovery wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pretty. It was painful. It was slow. I couldn’t rush the healing process, no matter how much I wanted to. Every day felt like an uphill battle, and there were moments when I wondered if I’d ever be the same rider I once was. When the doubt crept in, I had to remind myself why I was fighting. Not just for the sport, not just to race again, but for me. This wasn’t just about fixing my knee. It was about fixing my mind, my heart, and my soul.

I learned patience in ways I never thought I would. I had to let go of the idea that recovery would be linear, that every day would bring progress. Sometimes, it felt like I was taking two steps forward, only to be knocked back three. But the strength I found in the process was something I never expected. It was in those moments of struggle, when everything seemed impossible, that I learned to dig deeper, to fight harder. And slowly, day by day, I began to heal.

The Moment of Truth

And now, here I am. Standing on the precipice of the start line. Not just healed, but stronger. Still rising. This race is not about winning, not about crossing the finish line first. It’s about reclaiming a part of myself. It’s about proving that no matter how many times life knocks me down, whether it’s a crash, a hit-and-run, or the weight of my own doubt, I will always get back up.

Because in the end, it’s not about the obstacles we face, but about how we choose to respond to them. This race is my response. It’s my declaration that I will never stop fighting for what I love, no matter how many times life tries to knock me down.

So, if you see me out there on Saturday, know that every pedal stroke is a victory. It’s not just about the race, it’s about the journey, the fight, and the determination to keep pushing forward, no matter what.

Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and for being part of this journey with me. I can’t wait to see you at the race.