When the world shut down, we all went outside.
COVID-19 closed offices and schools and restricted public gatherings, and drove everyone out of their homes and into the world. It’s like the Great American Recess, and it’s pretty amazing
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not minimizing the very real impacts of the pandemic or the tragedy of the losses, but a crisis on this scale can reorder society in dramatic ways, and not all of them are bad. A global, novel virus that changes the way we live for months can reorient our relationships with the world around us. There are opportunities for less polarization and a revived appreciation for the outdoors and for life’s other, simple pleasures.
The truth is, this is tough. We’re all struggling to some measure – some of us maybe more, and some maybe less. There’s no right way to worry. Everywhere we turn, we are inundated by news of the virus and its social costs. We’ve all experienced the disappointment of lost opportunities and cancelled events. It’s easy and even understandable to fill every moment with stress and anxiety and sadness. Remember, though, that feelings come and go like the breeze, and there are things we can do today to ease the burden we feel. For me, that starts with riding my bike. Read more
That time alone is one of the reasons I love endless hours of solo training on the bicycle. So many professional cyclists and domestic elites settle in Boulder precisely because it affords them the opportunity to connect with other talented riders, to share long days spent in the saddle with those who have the same training demands, and to enjoy a sense of community in the sport. I like all those things, too, but constant companionship exhausts me. I enjoy meeting fans and shaking hands and swapping stories when I do events or make public appearances for the team, and then? I need an hour or two on my own to decompress. A time out.
Back then, though, it was different. I wasn’t stepping away to recharge. I was suffering from a kind of incurable loneliness that left a hole in me into which I had curled up completely. Read more
I was never supposed to be a success. I was never made to stand on a podium, never meant to see the world, certainly never meant to shake the hand of Maria Fernanda Espinosa, the current president of the United Nations General Assembly and to speak before the UN. Read more
We bring you this story because it’s an inspiring team, great cause and because Becky does so much for the Colorado endurance community and 303. Soon we will have a podcast with her to talk about addressing the leaders of the world! Read more
By Becky Furuta I found out Kelly Catlin died from suicide the same way the rest of the cycling community would uncover the news: On social media. Facebook, actually. A mutual friend racing for Rally UHC Cycling – one ofRead More
SPOKE: Becky Furuta on Cycling & Life – “It will be ok; It will be hard at first, and then it will be ok”Submitted by 303cycling on April 24th, 2018
I was a different person yesterday, I thought. Just days before, I had been wrapped in the comfort of gratitude. Without warning, the tides of life and change and human evolution and eroded it all, leaving me with the sense that I was sitting on the ledge of disaster.
My husband had lost his job of 27 years. We had no health insurance, which was a terrifying proposition for someone living with type one diabetes. My cycling sponsors had just ended their support of the women’s team and the elite men, leaving me to wonder if I would race the next season or see my teammates again. My own job was a dead-end, with no opportunities for advancement or increases in income. I didn’t even have a 401k. Read more
PSA to my local friends:
Saturday afternoon, I was finishing my ride and elected to avoid some wind by heading home on the LoBo Trail. I encountered a homeless couple just past the turn off to the Longmont Rec Center, about 100 meters from the underpass below Ken Pratt Ave. This is Boulder County. There are transients everywhere, and I usually just hand them wherever ride food I’ve got left in my pockets. But this couple leered at me uncomfortably. Immediately, I took out my headphones. I debated turning around, actually. Something seemed “off.” Read more