Embracing the Challenge: The Force of Change
I’m sitting in my friends’ apartment, overwhelmed by their kindness. They’ve opened their home to me, allowing me to couch surf until my flight on the 9th takes me to South Africa. From there, I’ll settle in for a week before launching into the mammoth challenge I’ve spent years preparing for.
Nothing—absolutely nothing—has gone to plan.
When I first started this journey, I believed that people would be eager to support a woman taking on something of this scale. But the reality is far different. We still live in a world where women are doubted when they attempt the extraordinary—where the default assumption is that something this big, this demanding, must be done by a man. And yet, history is filled with women who have proved the world wrong. Over and over again.
Recently, I watched The Six Triple Eight, a film about the only all-black women’s battalion in World War II. These women were sent overseas expecting to contribute directly to the war effort, only to be assigned what was meant to be an insulting, menial task: clearing an impossible backlog of undelivered mail.
It was a deliberate slight, compounded by the blatant racism they faced at every turn. They were laughed at, mocked, and dismissed—not just for being women, but for being black women in a world that refused to acknowledge their worth. Their orders were a challenge wrapped in humiliation, and those who gave them never truly believed they would succeed.
I cannot begin to understand what that experience must have felt like. I have never had to face such deep and systemic discrimination. But I have felt the sting of being underestimated. Of being dismissed. Of being told—implicitly or otherwise—that I am just a woman, and worse, a woman who is “getting on in years.”
Their leader, Major Charity Adams, had two choices: surrender to the expectations placed upon them, or rise. She chose to rise. She stood before her troops and told them the truth—no one believed in them. They were expected to fail. And that was precisely why they had to succeed. So, they did. With style, dignity, and grace, they completed their mission in half the time they were given, proving every doubter wrong.
My journey is not theirs. I chose this path. But I relate deeply to the need to prove—to myself more than anyone—that I am capable of something greater than what the world might expect.
For too long, I have allowed external forces to dictate my course. I’ve had big dreams but never the opportunity to chase them. Now, that cycle ends. I will no longer let circumstances define me. I am the force of change in my own life.
This ride is bigger than me. It’s about breaking limitations—both real and imagined. It’s about proving that the impossible is only impossible until it’s done. And it’s about reminding myself that while history may cast doubt on women’s abilities, women have been shattering those doubts for centuries.
The road ahead won’t be easy. It will test me in ways I can’t yet predict. But, like the women of The Six Triple Eight, I will meet it with determination, dignity, and grace.
Because that’s what women do.
That’s not to say no one has supported me. Far from it. My friends, family, and most importantly, my coach have stood by me throughout this entire process. They have believed in me when I struggled to believe in myself. They’ve been there through every high and low, reminding me of my strength, my resilience, and my purpose. Though they won’t be riding beside me, they will be there in spirit as I forge ahead on this journey.
But the reality is, I am taking on this challenge with zero sponsorship. I’ve learned firsthand just how difficult it is to gain financial support as an independent athlete, especially as a woman who has never attempted something of this scale before. Convincing people to have faith in an “older” woman pushing her limits seems to be an insurmountable task in itself. But I refuse to let that be the final word.
In fact, it has now become my fundamental mission to show the world that women canaccomplish anything they set their minds to. That we are not defined by age, or by what society believes we are capable of.
Postponing this ride for a year, only to lose sponsorship a second time, has forced me to see this journey in a new light. Maybe—just maybe—I was always meant to do this alone. Maybe this challenge was never about securing funding or proving my worth to sponsors. Maybe it was about proving something far bigger—to myself and to every woman who has ever been told she wasn’t enough.
If I can’t gain the backing of corporations, then I will gain the hearts of the women who see themselves in my journey. The women who know they have more to give. The women who have been underestimated, overlooked, and told that their time has passed.
Because our time isn’t over. Our time is now. And I intend to prove it, one pedal stroke at a time.
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