The most logical topic to kick off this series is the most common question I receive from friends, family, and followers: “How did you get to where you are now?”
Let me be clear. This is not “How did I end up at my makeshift standing desk surrounded by dusty old books from my undergraduate classes?” but rather “How have I found myself racing mountain bikes at the elite level, supported by amazing sponsors, with a line of custom race bikes named after me?”
So, how did I get here?
This is a question I reflect upon often. Some days, I am in utter disbelief. Other days, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. All days, I’m full of gratitude for the support, good timing, and hard work that has led me to “here”.
The answer to this very big question can be boiled down into three components:
Who I am,
My path BCE (Before the decision to pursue Cycling at the Elite level), and
My path CE (after deciding to pursue Cycling at the Elite level).
See what I did there?
#1 and #2 are heavily woven into my childhood and the formulation of my identity as an athlete, while #3 is the focused progression from amateur to elite racing, and the story of chasing dreams and finding sponsorship. Each part is equally important, but the sum of parts is way too long for a single blog post, so let’s tackle the first two. Keep in mind that this lengthy post is still a “Reader’s Digest” with a carefully-curated set of anecdotes about significant milestones in my personal pursuits. So let’s just get on with it, already!
Who I Am
It all started about 9 months before I was born (oh great, she has that sense of humor…no no no, just hear me out). When I was conceived, I was one half of a pair of identical twins. That’s a pretty significant moment in my life and it bears mentioning.
Growing up as a twin meant I always had a VERY close friend. We played together, dressed similarly, and our house was full of double everything. In the early years when my mom used to dress us in similar outfits, we were sickeningly cute, and shockingly difficult to distinguish (in fact, in his sleep-deprived stupor, my dad used to put us in the wrong cribs at night!).
That’s right, we were little Levi’s kiddos.
Having an identical twin also meant I faced a daily share vs. fight conundrum. I was sharing amazing life experiences while simultaneously fighting for affection. Despite my parents being very conscious about giving us equal attention, there’s something inevitable about the competitive nature of being a twin. At a young age, humans innately seek self-validation, but having to share that self-validation with your genetic identical leads to fascinating challenges, though I suspect the challenges were significantly greater for my parents. This became especially true after they had a third child: an energetic, little boy. I know they’ll be reading this post (hey Mom and Dad!), and I can say with certainty that I don’t envy what they endured. But I’m proud of them for persevering.
I imagine that a girl who doesn’t have an identical twin sister grows up trying to be faster, stronger, funnier, more popular than the rest of her friends. And when she comes home at the end of the day, she probably hears “of course you’re the [insert accolade]” from her parents. With twins, my parents couldn’t really say “Kelly, of course you’re the best” and then also say “Lindsay, of course you’re the best”, and have us feel like it was genuine and true. Statements like that would just blow a child’s mind. I do want to make it crystal clear here that while growing up with a twin was different than the alternative, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Too dang cute for captions.
So, naturally, there was always underlying competition in my life. Dammit, I wanted to be the best! For some, these circumstances manifest as deeper awareness for people around you (“I want to make sure everyone feels recognized”) or an unhealthy need for attention (“Hey! Look at me!”). Manifestation for me took the form of intense competitiveness.
Anyone who knows me well is aware of my perfectionist tendencies. I am Type A to my core. I love planning and excel spreadsheets, and I have a mildly photographic memory. I’m an engineer, and I have a soft spot for problem-solving and continued learning. However, my perfectionism and relatively high-strung nature is both a blessing and curse. It’s the reason I can push through pain and excel in sports, but it’s also the reason I struggle with some of the darker sides of my life.
FYI, Java here is a computer coding language, despite what the front cover donuts might imply.
That said, another important piece of that bears mentioning is my mental health. Growing up, I suffered from severe anxiety attacks. Certain triggering stressors would cause me to double over in pain with stomach aches and nearly paralyze me until the pain passed. In the fourth grade, I underwent several diagnostic tests only to find that I was in great health physically, but not mentally. At the ripe age of 10, I was relieved to put a label on the pain and work through it—at least partially—with a therapist. This is when I became aware of my more extreme tendencies and tools for managing my mental health.
In the years that followed, my anxiety developed into sports-induced panic attacks before my running races. The stomach aches had almost completely subsided, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep the night before races. I wouldn’t eat. My nerves were so severe that I would hide in the bathroom before races and cry. Sometimes, I would cry until I vomited. Looking back, I wasted a TON of energy before the race even started (how silly!). I probably could have been the first high school runner to break the 4-minute mile if I hadn’t wasted all that energy. I guess we’ll never know…
“Cross-Country at it's Finest". The true question is: how far did I run like this with my eyes closed?
Jumping several years into the future, my anxiety eventually evolved into severe depression. There is far too much baggage to unpack with the progression and background behind this (I’m happy to share in a future post if there’s interest), but suffice to say that a part of my motivation to stay active and insanely busy is to keep myself away from the Darkness. I’m not saying this is a healthy reason to train and compete, but it’s a reason nonetheless.
Mental health issues are not all-consuming for me; in fact, that’s far from truth. But it’s important to recognize that this side of my life is woven into the foundation of who I am as an athlete, engineer, and overall person. I’m also a big goof ball, which is the product of a father and brother who both have a unique and hilarious sense of humor. I speak my mind, enjoy jokes and storytelling, I love public speaking (gasp!), and I seriously appreciate quality, fun workout socks.
A little angry, a lot creepy.
As you’ll learn, I dove head-first into the world of elite cycling. It was scary and overwhelming at times, but also thrilling and exciting. I’ve drawn significant inspiration to explore new endeavors, such as cycling, from my brother, Ryan. He has always been unafraid to try new things. Ryan is the king of learning (through mostly self-education) and mastering new skills. He’s taught himself how to play guitar, then repair guitars, and then build guitars. And little known fact — he was a sponsored athlete before me! He was a sponsored longboarder for a period of time in college, after only riding for about a year. My brother has proven that anything is possible when you’re passionate, committed, and driven. Ryan has the heart of an adventurer, and I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two from him.
Finally, to round out “Who I Am”, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I am the product of two amazing people. My parents are two of the most genuine, thoughtful, and authentic people you will ever meet. They are resourceful, respectful, and adventurous. Through their example, I learned there is no substitution for honest, hard work, and good dad jokes (of course!). They didn’t talk about it much, but I know we didn’t have a lot of money growing up. Yet, they still found ways to take us on Disney vacations, explore the outdoors through camping and hikes, and enjoy the company of each other. They crafted a life they wanted, for themselves and for their children. Most importantly—as you’ll learn later in this post—they believed in their children and encouraged us to lead lives that made us proud without compromising our true selves.
Fanny packs are still cool, right?
Alright, so, that’s me in a nutshell. Hmmm, maybe a nutshell is too small.
That’s me in a watermelon.
My Path BCE
I grew up in a very active and close-knit family. We were known as The Desharnais Family (pronounced by our family dah-harness, or because we have some Boston roots dah-hah-ness; pronounced by everyone else in the world as desh-arr-ness. For what it’s worth, I don’t blame the mis-pronouncers; who makes only one “s” silent in a name that contains two “s”s? More importantly, how do you write the plural of “s”?).
Naturally, I’m sure you want to know my first biking experience. Sadly, I have to report that there’s no magic bicycling story to be found here. My bike was just one of the many toys in the garage (along with jump ropes, roller blades, hula hoops, a pogo stick, and a prized Skip-It), and I rode it around our small neighborhood loop for enjoyment. In fact, I didn’t know that bike racing was “a thing” until my sophomore year of college! But, while we’re on the topic of childhood biking memories, I do have one memory that stands out among the rest.
When my dad took the training wheels off of our bikes, I remember building my two-wheeled riding confidence quite quickly. Dad was trying to manage teaching two kids to ride simultaneously (this is the true magic bicycling story, if you ask me) in our driveway. Super daring Kelly had the confidence to leave the driveway and ride toward the neighbors’ house. When I started to feel that I had strayed too far, I decided to try my first ever turn on two wheels. Wouldn’t you know, I made the turn smoothly and swiftly, right into a mailbox. That rusty, metal box and it’s mail flag dagger met my face with a cold apathy that only a mailbox could. And, so, my first ever perfectly executed left hand turn didn’t happen that day. And neither did the right hand turn. From what I hear, the mailbox clotheslined me pretty hard that day, but luckily, we both lived to tell the tale.
Legal Disclaimer: These are not Seven Cycles bicycles. Also, notice that my sister was the smart child, using elbow and knee pads, while I enjoyed my healthy doses of adrenaline.
Growing up, hiking was the family’s favorite weekend activity. I think my obsession for shoes actually began with a collection of hiking boots in the basement, thanks to our family’s love for trailside adventures. The Desharnais Family especially enjoyed trekking up Mount Willard with it’s relatively short trail length and breathtaking view. Without a doubt, the White Mountains in New Hampshire is where I cultivated my love for mountains, trails, peacefulness, and a respect for magnificent things that are much larger than myself.
Mount Willard’s stunning visitors and views.
Through my early years, I played every sport imaginable. I dabbled in highly competitive neighborhood kickball, rollerblading, and fort-building in the back yard. On a more serious level, I played tee ball, softball, school soccer, travel soccer, lacrosse, cross country running, and track & field. Many of these sports required teamwork, coordination, and well-practiced skills, which taught me discipline and accountability. During some seasons, I was playing up to four different sports at one time! All I can think now is WHY?! WHY, MOM AND DAD, WOULD YOU DO THAT TO YOURSELVES?!
Upon reflection, the answer is quite clear. My parents encouraged their children to build a life they were proud to live; to pursue their passions without compromising identity and integrity. So, naturally, my passion became: time management and multitasking. Ha!
In 6th grade, I tried out for the track & field sprinting team. My goal was to be the fastest runner in school, and if my memory is correct, I won every single sprint race during tryouts (we’re all the heroes of our own journey, so it’s possible—though highly unlikely—that I’m mis-remembering this just slightly). I would win, turn around and go back to the start line, ready for the next trial. Yet when the roster was posted, I did NOT make the team. Instead, I had earned myself a spot on the [dreaded] Distance team. On top of that, my twin sister DID make the team (for what it’s worth, she became an incredibly fast and talented sprinter). I cried. I told the coach he made a mistake, but he noticed I was not fatigued after all the sprint trials. I had endurance, and the distance running team was desperate for members.
Thus, I was thrust into the world of endurance sports. One of the best things that ever happened to me.
As it turned out, I enjoyed the freedom of running and endurance sports. I loved that you could take running with you, explore new places and get lost in thought along the way. It felt like an escape and also an outlet for my number-loving perfectionism. I enjoyed the discipline that running required. I loved that the sport fostered community and self-reliance simultaneously. So, starting in 6th grade, I became Kelly the Runner.
As I mentioned in a past blog post, I attended a Division 1 University (‘Ray Bucknell!) and was recruited to run for their cross country and track & field teams.
In my first season as a freshman, I over-trained, ignored a bunch of warning signs, exhibited disordered eating, and the stars aligned perfectly for a traumatic and extreme femur stress fracture. That’s right, the largest bone in my body broke. In the middle of a run, nonetheless. There was a crack up the entire shaft of the bone and a crack almost entirely through the base of the bone, right above my knee. I consider this injury to be most pivotal moment in my athletic career.
It took a year to physically recover from that injury, but I never recovered mentally. After that year, I had a hard time trusting my body to perform. I felt disenchanted with the commitment to early morning tempo runs and double days, and frankly no longer had the passion to be Kelly the Runner.
So, in what seemed like both a snap decision and a year-long deliberation, I quit running. A good friend convinced me to join my school’s road cycling team, the Bucknell Cycling Club. I bought a road bike during Winter Break of my Sophomore year, and the rest, as they say, is history. I will forever be indebted to the support, camaraderie, and teamwork that I experienced while on the Bucknell Cycling Club. Through this team, I became Kelly the Cyclist.
Bike racing was the perfect blend of speed, endurance, and skill. And, without sounding vain, I was pretty decent at it, especially without any structured training or coaching. I was winning a few races here and there while operating on minimal sleep due to my pursuit of a Biomedical Engineering degree and undergraduate research (oh, hey there, multitasking!).
After graduation, I continued to ride, but stopped racing while pursuing my career as a Biomedical Engineer. It was around this time that I went through a very dark period in my life (here’s where I learned what severe depression looks like). Strangely enough, it was severe depression, bad work experiences, a break-up with my high school sweetheart, and some overall poor life choices that led me to buy a mountain bike.
My first real mountain bike. A much nicer steed than I deserved at the time, by far.
I needed a fresh start, and I was fortunate to have a co-worker (let’s call him Bob) who was incredibly persuasive and explained with great enthusiasm that mountain biking would be the solution to all my problems (for what it’s worth, he was right in the end). Bob believed that if I could pedal a road bike fast, surely I could ride a mountain bike on technical New England singletrack without any formal lessons or background. That’s how it works, right?
The important part here is that I believed Bob, and he believed in me.
A very poor quality photo of a very high quality moment.
I joined an all-male group of mountain bikers and started making new friends while learning a new sport from the ground up. Literally. I found myself looking consistently like the victim of daily gang beatings. Also, it’s important to note that my future husband was in that group of guys.
I loved mountain biking. It was immensely challenging. I was terrified on a daily basis and felt like a failure almost every ride (what? That doesn’t sound like fun?). However, mountain biking gave me an outlet for building strength, achieving measurable progress, and—perhaps most importantly—creating self-confidence again after a very, VERY dark time in my life. I learned that self-improvement is an incredible tool for healing. In fact, the self-confidence I was building on my bike was translating into other areas of my life, particularly my Engineering career (thanks, Bob!).
It took months of practice, but eventually I became Kelly the Mountain Biker. Oh, and Kelly the Wife, too.
Of course we had a bike at our wedding!
About a year after marrying Joe, I had reached a point in my Engineering career when I realized that I didn’t have control over my path, and I wasn’t headed in a direction that energized me. I wasn’t proud of the life I was living. This wasn’t a foreign realization for me, but rather than find a new job and force us to relocate (we had already moved cross country together…twice), I started to explore alternative paths to craft a life that made me proud without compromising my true self.
In the Fall of 2017, I had set up my road bike in the basement on the trainer, with Joe’s desk setup right in front of me so I could watch movies or YouTube videos on his monitor. One day, Joe stumbled on a link for the 2017 Women’s UCI Cross Country Mountain Bike World Championship, so we watched while I rode. This was the first time outside of the Tour de France that I had watched any professional bike race. To say I was captivated would be an understatement. I was mesmerized by the balance of strength and speed with grace and fluidity of these women on mountain bikes. In all my mountain biking adventures to this point, I had never encountered a women who was as skilled or fast as those on the screen. Such was my introduction to women’s professional mountain biking.
Without any filtered thought, I proclaimed to Joe “I could do that! I could be a pro mountain biker! I know it!” Without any hesitation, Joe responded “Yes, you absolutely could. Let’s do it.” One small affirmation rooted in unconditional support from the most important person in my life is all it took.
That’s when BCE became CE.