Everyday heroes

I've spent  some time lately thinking about what it means to be a hero. It started not long after a friend left a comment on one of my downhill mountain biking pictures in which she called me her "hero". While I appreciate the sentiment, it was easy to dismiss at first. I am certainly not saving any lives or putting myself at risk for the sake of others. But either way it got me thinking "who are my heroes?". 

I've never  been one to idolize athletes or celebrities regardless of what they've done because at the end of the day I don't truly know them on a personal level. My heroes are my family, my friends, my teammates, my climbing partners, my skiing partners...it's not the best athletes setting records, winning titles, or hitting the biggest features. For me, it's  those everyday people who push themselves outside their comfort zone and the ones who help me to do the same. The people who despite what society expects or wants them to be, still remain true to who they are because they've inspired me to be the person I aspire to be. They are those people who have courage as Brené Brown defines it "to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart". I know they are not without fear.  The courage and bravery of those that are unassuming and ordinary gives me hope. Each one of them in some way or another has been my hero. They've helped save my life from mediocrity, complacency, boredom,  societal constraints, and  even depression. 

Luckily, I was able to grow up with a younger brother who is one of my biggest heroes. I watched him consistently overcome his fears and push himself day in and day out. Having this inspiration to work hard and play harder truly saved my life. 

My brother and I on his graduation from Drexel 

My brother hitting the phantom drop at Mountain Creek

I wanted to love something the way I knew my brother always loved BMX. Something that would always be there regardless of what else  was going on, something that I could count on when all else failed to give me comfort and joy. Because in the darkest hours of my deepest depression I realized at 27 I had no idea what made me happy, what I did just for me and no one else.  It was depressing to realize how little I did for myself and my own happiness but it was also liberating. I had a blank canvas to which I could create my own happiness. True to my normal fashion I threw everything and anything I could at it. In two years I've tried horseback riding, hiking, ice climbing, rock climbing, mountain biking, mountaineering, paragliding, skydiving, mud runs, adventures races, crossfit, rafting, paddle boarding, surfing, kayaking, and I started skiing again with a vengeance. 

I wasn't sure where this all would go since it started from a place of shear desperation. Desperation  to feel joy and happiness that didn't come from anything more than me doing something I loved. My life has changed in ways I never imagined. I've made more friends than I ever thought I would, become a part of communities I never even knew existed, and have more heroes in my life than I ever anticipated. Most importantly I've fall in love with this life I was inspired to start because I get days and weekends like this one, out on my bike (sometimes my skis, skates, the trail, or the rocks) hanging out with some of my heroes. 

My DRRT teammates Cait, Lindsey, and I at Oak Mountain for GES #3
Photo: Tom Preston 

Here goes nothing...

Today seemed appropriate as ever to finally do something I've been wanting to do for quite some time and start writing publicly. Today of all days because it’s Father’s Day. My Dad is not only the one who helped me come up with the title of this blog but also helped me get to this point and become the woman I am today. 

I am even more fortunate today for my father as I recently heard a group of dads concerned about each of their daughters becoming too much of a tomboy. The concern sadly wasn’t that they might engage in more dangerous and risky behavior like most boys tend to do (An interesting article on male risk taking and women’s attraction to it). Instead, their concern was how those tomboy behaviors like wanting to ride a dirt bike will affect their chances of getting married off. It pains me to even write that and breaks my heart for their daughters. I can't even figure out where to start other than a forever grateful “thank you” to not only my father but my mother as well. Thank you for never making me feel less than. Thank you for supporting my tomboy activities. Thank you for letting me know its ok to fall and get bruises, but one day my scarred legs might require me to wear panty hose to work. Thank you for giving me the courage to get back up after those falls instead of instilling fear in me that I would get hurt again. Thank you for never making me feel my worthiness and ability to be loved has to come from another person. Thank you for teaching me to be a strong independent woman. And this list goes on. 

The ironic part of the thinking of those dads is that I know plenty of men who are single and would love to marry a woman who loves to do the same “boyish” activities they love.  Those dads also might never know what kind of joy those activities might not only bring their daughters but themselves as well. Being able to share those activities with my father provides such great opportunities for us to spend time together. At the end of the day spending time with those you love and being able to take joy and happiness out of your days should be some of the most important things in life. 

If being single or never getting married ends up being the worst thing that happens to me in this life, I'll be grateful. There are worse things in life. Being single doesn't mean I’m alone. And being a tomboy doesn't make me unmarriable. Thank you mom and dad for never letting me think otherwise.