If I’m being honest, this post took significantly longer to write than I expected. I didn’t feel inspired or energized by the content, so I kept pushing it off to “the next day,” which subsequently turned into “the next week.” I believe this hesitation is rooted in feeling truly unworthy or at least the content feeling unworthy. What could I possibly share that is worth telling? Is my story even all that remarkable? Why does it matter?

Behold, the doom and gloom of a global pandemic has slithered it’s way into my creative process.

After some reflection, I realized that several parts of my story are shaped by this exact same feeling of unworthiness. This isn’t a new feeling for me, evoked for the first time ever by Covid-19. In fact, part of my story was made possible by overcoming the “imposter syndrome” and believing in my self-worth as an athlete and a community contributor. I find strength and hope knowing that, perhaps, even just one of my readers will feel compelled to ignore their own self-doubt after reading my story. Even if I can have a minuscule impact on one person’s confidence, then the story is worth telling.

My Path CE

I often think about how my life would be different if Joe’s response to my desire to become a pro mountain biker (see Part 1) was rooted in rationality or common sense. What if he said something like “Yes, but it’s going to be really expensive” or “Yes! But you’ll be plagued by sacrificing many things you love now, like time with family and friends” or “Of course, but you have a history of burning yourself out, so you’ll need to be careful”.

Would I still have moved forward with the same level of enthusiasm and blind optimism? Or would my journey look differently? Would I be happy now?

Frankly, it’s unproductive to spend time contemplating “what if’s”, but every once in a while I indulge. Needless to say, I’m incredibly fortunate to have a partner who has believed in me, and supported my blind optimism since Day 1.

After the decision to pursue Cycling at the Elite level (we’re now in CE, for those who have been following along since the beginning), I realized quickly that I had ZERO clue what I was doing or getting myself into. None of my friends were professional mountain bike racers, and the closest I had ever come to an elite cross country mountain bike race was the 18-inch gap between my trainer and the computer monitor in the basement.

But sometimes ignorance is bliss, right?

The super high-tech 2017 edition of my workout room.

After The Big Decision, the next logical step was to buy a really expensive bike. For those who don’t know, this is the logical next step in any mountain biker’s life, also known as “The N+1 Rule”.

Seriously, though, I wasted no time tackling the big question: How do I get from here to elite? (Fun fact: During the first several months, I would sing Disney’s Hercules “Zero to Hero” in my head when I need an extra motivation boost).

Charting a path from Zero to Elite, so to say, was a job for Kelly the Problem Solver. Oh and Kelly the Take-On-Way-Too-Many-Things-At-Once-er.

In true Kelly the Problem Solver fashion, I decided to create a spreadsheet and keep track of all the things I needed (and write a Pros and Cons list for each option in the decisions I faced, of course). Indeed there were MANY things I didn’t know I needed, but here were the first three necessities:

A coach. The last time I had a coach who prescribed workouts and a training plan was during my college running days. I recognized that a coach would provide much-needed guidance and training structure, while also holding me accountable for the work, so I reached into my network for options. After several interviews with potential coaches, of course I decided to pick the one that intimidated the hell out of me. Kurt Perham of PBM Coaching is a no bullshit kind of guy, which freaked me out, but his confidence and experience made me certain that I needed him on my side.
A race bike. Sadly, my original Santa Cruz Blur TRc with 26” wheels just wasn’t going to cut it for elite-level racing. After testing several models and brands, I settled on the winningest bike model in the world: the Scott Spark RC World Cup. A race machine. This bike was light and fast, while also terrifying and uncomfortable. The geometry was aggressive and definitely race-oriented, but it’s exactly what I needed. Actually, as someone who had never raced a mountain bike seriously, this bike was way more than I actually needed, but I was full-in on this dream.
A team. I spent a lot of time searching for a local race team that had elite racers who could help me select races and “learn the ropes” from an insider’s perspective. New Hampshire-based State9 Racing p/b Vittoria Tires welcomed me into their squad and introduced me to some amazing sponsors and local cycling enthusiasts.

Before I continue, let me clarify something. When I mention “Pro racing” to most people, they imagine racing is my full-time job. Racing is a full-time profession for very few women in the cycling industry (there’s a significant gender disparity I won’t discuss here but still feel the need to keep this acknowledgement of it…), but it’s very uncommon. Some successful racers make enough to travel for months at a time during the race season and then work part-time during the off-season. I am not one of them.

The Engineering career I mentioned in my previous post has not changed. Rather, my cycling endeavors have had to fit around my full-time job. I haven’t had the luxury of transitioning to part-time or even regular work from home (up until Covid, of course). Unfortunately, I need to work to be able to fund my passion. And, frankly, I expect that my life wouldn’t be quite as fulfilling if the only focus was training and racing.

Blending work and cycling has been an ongoing exercise in time and energy management and is, by far, one of the biggest limiting factors in my cycling success. That said, I’m going to spend very little time mentioning my Engineering career from this point on in the post because it has always existed in the ambient noise of my life; 40 hours a week plus a commute each way. And that’s the way it has to be if I want to pay my mortgage, my bills, AND pursue my cycling dreams.

When I decided to pursue pro cycling, it wasn’t a gradual introduction. Life became cycling.

One pillar of my pursuit that has remained foundational to my journey is the desire to be part of something bigger, something that serves a larger purpose. So, in addition to racing, I wanted to immerse myself in the cycling community and find ways to make a difference. I imagine that in the years and decades to come, my elite racing will eventually subside, and this drive to be part of my community in a meaningful way will grow significantly.

At first, I volunteered for Queen City Bicycle Collective in Manchester, NH. After becoming a regular volunteer for several months, I was asked to join the Board of Directors as the organization was incorporating. This was a very noble and meaningful organization full of hardworking, passionate people; just the kind of folk with which I wanted to surround myself. Joining the QCBike BOD was rewarding because I was a part (albeit very small) of a HUGE milestone in the organization and the continued success that they experience to this day. I eventually stepped down from my role on the BOD because I was unable to dedicate the time and energy that the role deserved, but the experience taught me a great deal about community involvement, developing business plans, establishing a mission, and creating a presence in an under-served community. These lessons are ones I carry with me as I craft my own brand through Team KellCat and carry myself on my journey.

Believe it or not, learning to fix bikes can be fun.

Also in early 2018, I connected with an amazing female cyclist (and now, friend) named Allie, who was a Liv Cycling Ambassador. She graciously allowed me to support her women’s cycling advocacy events, including a mountain bike suspension setup clinic, a mountain bike skills clinic, and a women’s group ride. Working with her was my first exposure to the incredibly rewarding path of women’s cycling advocacy. I always knew that women were under-represented in cycling, but had never pinpointed this reality as something that would give me purpose and fire. Through these Liv events with Allie, I saw women riders become empowered with information about maintaining their bike; I saw women conquer fears and build self-confidence through skill building. This was the true form of positive energy with which I wanted to surround myself, and it felt like the next step on my journey to be part of something that makes a difference.

Almost too much radness to capture in a single photo. This was one of the women’s mountain bike skills clinics in the summer of 2018.

Building on the momentum, I also started becoming involved in other local events focused on women’s cycling advocacy, eventually helping lead a weekly women’s group ride during the summer of 2018. Some of these women were seasoned riders, and some were beginners. Together, we rode for about an hour each week, and we talked about family, friends, and sports. It was an authentic and welcoming group and probably some of my more relaxing hours that year.

Selfie smiles on a late summer group ride.

Ok, so what about the racing?…I’m so glad you asked!

While pursuing these parallel paths of involvement in my cycling community, I was also training and preparing for my Pro racing dreams.

2018 was my first year racing at the Pro level, but I had to start the season with a Category 1 license based on my road racing years in college (for those who don’t know how racing works, a USA Cycling license enables you to race at a specific level and “Pro” is the highest level; Cat 1 is the next level down). In order to earn my Pro license, I had to perform well in a few USA Cycling-sanctioned races and petition for an upgrade.

My first race of the season was late March 2018 in Connecticut called Hop Brook. When it comes to cycling, this was the first race I had ever truly trained for, because I never had a structured training plan or a coach before Kurt. I ended up winning the Women’s Pro/1/2/3 race by almost 2 minutes, which was exciting and helped build my confidence that I was on the right path. In my second race—also in Connecticut—I won by over 6 minutes, and decided to petition for my Pro license upgrade.

The Fat Tire Classic podium, my last race before becoming “Pro”.

Surprisingly, the upgrade was approved, and by mid-April 2018 I had my Pro license. This progression was significantly faster than I expected, but I had no stories or paths for comparison, so I proceeded on at my own pace (similar to the mantra “ride your own race” that I often repeat when I’m trying to be patient on race day). If I’m being honest, I believe it’s good I had no expectations about my progression to Pro; I’m unsure what kind of artificial barriers I might have constructed to slow me down.

Within 3 weeks of receiving my Pro license, Joe and I decided to hop on a plane Salt Lake City, UT and participate in my first ever USA Cycling Pro-Level race: the Soldier Hollow XC Race (just outside of Park City, UT), which included a Short Track race and an XC Race the following day. This elite racing pursuit suited our whirlwind lifestyle well, and I was riding high after two local race wins. Ultimately, I felt confident in my ability to compete with the big girls.

That’s the weekend I learned the true pain that is a flat-lander racing at elevation.

I also learned that while I might be a big fish in the little local pond, I’m a very small fish in a very large pond, particularly when it comes to racing at altitude. Soldier Hollow was my awakening to the true strength and power of elite-level women. I was blown away by the confidence and fierceness of my competitors, and was hungry to train harder and push myself to my limits in a way I hadn’t imagined.

Fast forward to the 2018 USA Cycling MTB National Championships in mid-July at Snowshoe, WV. This was the pinnacle race for 2018. While not quite as high as Soldier Hollow, Snowshoe was still at elevation, but this time I felt more prepared and energized to race my best. While the soon-to-be World Champion was in this race, among many other incredibly strong women, I still didn’t know my competitors well enough to really feel nervous or anxious (again, ignorance is bliss!). When I was about a third of the way into the race, riding in the 8th/9th position, I got a very untimely flat tire. Unfortunately, I was too far from the pit to run my bike (Joe would have resolved the issue much faster than me), so I was left plugging the hole and trying to refill some air back into the tire. Ultimately, I finished 13th, which was simultaneously exciting and disappointing.

The race season continued on after nationals with several more mountain bike races, including some New England events, a fun Vermont stage race, and my very first ever season of cyclocross racing.

For the sake of your sanity, I skipped describing the remaining 2018 races, but I will say: Who knew riding a road bike with knobby tires in circles could be so much fun?!

I swear, under that game face is a girl having a blast.

After my first year of racing, I realized that it was time to part ways with State9. I had outgrown the club team model and wanted to find a way to support more domestic and international professional race goals in 2019. Thus began my sponsorship journey.

I actually began by seeking professional teams and writing to team managers, to fill their need for an eager, hardworking new teammate. After a few months of waiting on dead end conversations and countless ignored emails, messages, and voicemails, I realized my chances of finding a pro team were slim.

Feeling somewhat let down and dejected, I decided to pursue my own set of sponsors and create a privateer team of 2 (Kelly: the racer & Joe the manager/mechanic/pit crew/chef/chauffeur).

When seeking sponsorship, my guiding principle was to partner only with companies that I believed in, or could relate to their missions or values. For example, Vittoria Tires is a strong supporter of State9 and me in particularly during the 2018 season, and they are loyal supporters of women’s cycling with their "Women of Vittoria” program, so it was a no-brainer that I would want to work with them in 2019.

I created a professional-looking athlete resume and sent multiple emails daily to marketing teams, company executives, friends with connections, social media managers, customer support emails, and random strangers. I made some embarrassingly horrendous cold calls and truly tested my sense of self-approval. I was using the power of connection, and extending my reach wherever I could, hoping that something would stick. My approach was to be sincere, professional, and hopeful.

However, I was met with a lot of “no, sorry” and “no, thank you” or “you sound rad, but we don’t have the budget” and, of course, “ ” (that last one is an intentional blank space, meaning no response which was the people’s choice for most common response).

There was a long stretch of time when I felt an incredible sense of embarrassment. I felt ashamed for making myself believe that I was worth sponsoring. It’s remarkable how crazy that seems to me now. I should have been so much kinder to myself, because it was my FIRST EVER year of mountain bike racing, afterall.

Yes, my 2018 racing success had me convinced that I was on the right path, that the puzzle pieces were falling into place. But the walls came crashing down in the winter of 2018/2019 when every attempt I made to connect with potential sponsors seemed to be failing. Leads that I believed were certain had fallen through. What’s more, I was deriving my sense of worth from the level of support I received from so many of these companies — a whole lot of nothing. Was I really worth sponsoring?

In reality, I was behind the curve in many ways when it came to seeking sponsorship. I spent so long focused on finding a team that I missed the sponsorship application window for many companies. But the narrative in my head was “no, you’re not worth it”; I started believing that I wasn’t cut out to be a pro and I was just an imposter with a carbon race bike and fancy race shoes. And at several points, I almost decided to give up.

It’s critical to note here that seeking sponsorship is a powerful character building experience for everyone, as I came to learn from my competitors and future friends. If you’re ever looking for a good exercise in learning how to live with constant rejection, then start seeking sponsorship.

But, then, how did I connect with Seven?…Well, I’m glad you asked that, too :)

As I started exploring my 2019 options, my mother-in-law connected me to a complete stranger named Jim. Jim is a cycling enthusiast who heard about my race achievements through my mother-in-law. Through her stories, Jim felt strongly that I should be sponsored. I’m still puzzled by his willingness and enthusiasm to support a stranger he had only “met” through a handful of stories, but I’m incredibly grateful for him. We met for coffee (or in my case, water and a cookie, because I didn’t drink coffee then) and talked about my goals, dreams, and my path in the sport. I told him I had very little luck with finding sponsors for the upcoming year, and he suggested that I reach out to a list of connections he had from his cycling experience.

At the end of the list: Seven Cycles.

So, naturally, I researched a phone number online, called the next day, and boldly asked for the founder and owner of Seven Cycles. With the thick skin and cold calling experience I had been building, I might as well just jump in with two feet, right?

After several additional attempts at communication, the familiar radio silence, and regular check-in emails from an all-too eager Kelly the Problem Solver, Seven finally invited me to the factory for a tour. Joe and I met with some of the Seven family, and realized what a rad company this truly was. Imagine the comfort of a warm family gathering taking place in an insanely amazing workshop full of talented artists, craftswomen and craftsmen, and machinery that is both incredibly heavy and finely intricate. As an engineer, Seven Cycles’ headquarters immediately felt like home.

Right around the time of this visit is when I was at the lowest of my self-worth trajectory. As my prospects for sponsorship were dwindling, I faced my internal dialogue: “what if I don’t end up getting any sponsors?” and “what if I don’t have the support I was hoping to receive this year?” (hello, “what if”, my dear friend).

As if on cue, meeting the amazing team at Seven sparked something in me, akin to flicking a switch. The Seven team treated me with respect, like a the “real pro athlete” I was aspiring to be but felt was unattainable as the “imposter” that I was. Driving home from that visit, I exhibited unprecedented personal growth and gave myself grace; the simple act of being kind to myself and making peace with knowing that the progress I had made up to this point was exactly that: progress.

Shortly after the visit, I convinced myself that even if I was an unsponsored racer in 2019, I was still on track toward my end goal. The pace of forward progress was just slower than I hoped. Thus, my big “what if” evolved into a “I’ll make it happen anyway.”

I would be remiss to omit that Seven Cycles is world famous for their handcrafted, custom bicycles, particularly their high-quality titanium frames. Their award winning bikes are some of the most stunning you will ever find, both in craftsmanship and in frame design crafted to suit the rider’s needs. The only hiccup was that at this time, Seven only manufactured hardtail mountain bikes (suspension in the front of the bike only) and I had only ever ridden a full suspension bike (suspension in the front and back of the bike) and I didn’t intend to compromise on that. So, sponsorship didn’t seem likely.

But, with my new found self-approval, I decided to ask the Seven team: “would you entertain engaging your R&D team in a new project to build a full suspension mountain bike that I could test for you?” My internal dialogue poisoned me with the thought — how very foreward of this random girl—but the truth is, if you never ask, then the answer is always “no”, right?

While I would love to believe it was me who convinced them, the Seven team was already secretly working on some full suspension concepts. I happened to be the perfect excuse to move forward with implementation.

After some early prototyping and feedback sessions, the KellCat full suspension race bike was born. Let me just say, the shock of having a bike named after me will follow me to my grave.

An extra special N+1 Day — Kelly Catale meets the KellCat.

With this amazing bike’s launch came the true beginning of Team KellCat.

Team KellCat’s only official team photo, taken at the tail end of a surreal photo shoot at the 2019 Sea Otter Classic in Monterey, CA.

The 2019 race season was a whirlwind and saw Team KellCat traveling across the country regularly for amazing races, including XCO (shorter, less than 2 hours) and marathon style (much longer, think 4 hours) cross country races. I starred in several photo shoots and was featured on Seven’s website in multiple places. To say the experience felt surreal and like a dream come true would be a harsh understatement.

Behind-the-scenes action from the Sea Otter photo shoot. Joe learns how the “free standing” bike photos really work (hint: it’s not magic, but it does require some coordination).

It’s amazing how this success as a “real pro athlete” transpired after I had already found peace with moving forward in 2019 without sponsorship. It’s poetic in a way; the world conspired to make my dreams come true after I let go of what I was trying to force into reality. Truth be told, it was self-approval and confidence that helped prepare me to make my dream a reality.

That said, I’ll forever be thankful for the belief and confidence that Rob Vandermark and the Seven family instilled in me as an athlete, ambassador, and person.

Throughout early 2019, I discovered that the races I enjoyed most were marathon style, the kind that took me miles and miles from the race start on a single 50-mile loop, rather than the multiple-loop shorter XCO style races. There is something rewarding about pushing your physical and mental limits out in what feels like the middle of nowhere while exploring all new terrain and trails.

Team KellCat traveled to Prescott, AZ, Grand Junction, CO, and Carson City, NV, for marathon races last year, and each adventure was more breathtaking and exciting for both of us. In fact, our most commonly-used sentence during our trips was “maybe we should move here.”

My bike takes me to some breathtaking places.

The pinnacle race for me in 2019, however, was the USA Cycling MTB National Championship race in Winter Park, CO. At Winter Park Resort, the race course started at 9,000ft+ of elevation, which terrified me.

I had a severe corneal abrasion just a couple days before we flew out to Colorado and wasn’t sure racing would actually be in the cards for me. But I trained with my glasses on (rather than contacts), and prepared for race day. On race day, I surprised the hell out of myself (and many other people too) with a 10th place finish. Not too shabby for a flatlander!

The face of someone who doesn’t have enough oxygen to lift the corners of her mouth to smile after realizing she just finished 10th.

The season continued on with a few more mountain bike races, an incredible gravel race in central Pennsylvania, and another fun season of cyclocross. During the second half of 2019, Seven surprised me with the launch of two new race-optimized bikes: the KellCross (a gravel/cyclocross/road race bike) and the KellCruis (a pure cyclocross race bike with an unprecedented, innovative frame design).

Oh and I also officially became Kelly the Moutain Bike Skills Coach after I earned my PMBIA MTB skills coaching certificate! I conducted several skills clinics throughout the year, mostly women-specific clinics, which led me to meet some incredible people in my community.

Probably rambling about something to a group of strangers…

2019 was undoubtedly a year to remember.

In a casual conversation last year, a friend told me he was inspired by my accomplishments and I replied “Thanks, it really feels like I’m living the dream.” His response: “No. You’re making the dream happen.” That’s the kind of support and wisdom I have surrounded myself with over the past few years.

With the wrapping up of 2019, I hit some pretty low points with a severe episode of depression. I had spent myself completely. The training, racing, traveling, sponsorship chasing, social media maintenance had left little to no energy for recognizing my mental health decline, taking care of my job, and enjoying life off the bike with my husband and family. Unfortunately, this engineer-by-day-pro-cyclist-by-night lifestyle is not sustainable, which meant that I faced 2020 with some tough questions.

What do I value most? What does the future look like for Kelly the Mountain Bike Racer and Team KellCat?

If 2018 and 2019 taught me anything its that my racing future has the potential be bright. But at what cost? I am capable of so much more than I dreamed was possible only 2 years prior. But, I also work full time and that realistically won’t change. I also love being involved in my cycling community and advocating for women’s cycling.

Upon heavy reflection about my career as a cyclist, I decided that I cannot (and do not) want to train like an Olympian. I love the blend of work, racing, family, community involvement, and women’s cycling advocacy that I’ve cultivated, and I want to stay true to the values I hold most dear.

At first it felt like I was giving up and betraying myself. I’m not Kelly the Quitter! But I’ve come to realize that this isn’t giving up. It’s refocused energy. I have decided to focus on marathon MTB racing. Team KellCat will race at the elite level internationally, domestically, and hopefully at the UCI World Championships someday.

In addition to racing, I have been working on fostering genuine friendships, which is something that I’ve missed over the past few years.

Pre-pandemic days of group rides and big smiles.

I also have big plans to build the Team KellCat community; to bring people together and build a positive environment for racers and recreational cyclists alike, especially women (but men are allowed too, don’t worry).

One of the most remarkable parts of this story is that all my sponsors believe in my trajectory and they support Team KellCat’s vision for the future. I’ve created a village that stands by my side and lifts me up, in the best and the worst of times. In fact, Seven recently released their newest Team KellCat bike — the KellCountry, one of those hardtail race bikes I always vowed I wouldn’t enjoy but I’ve quickly learned to love.

Wait, did I say that I wouldn’t ever love riding a hardtail?

2020 will not be the year I race at the World Championships, but I’m making peace with that. Instead of focusing on races, I am re-focusing my energy toward building community and finding ways to create the “something bigger” that I’ve been desiring to be part of for years.

So how did I get here? I can tell you it wasn’t magic. It was hard work, blind optimism, and an amazing village by my side.

Is it a story worth sharing? I don’t know, so feel free to tell me. In fact, I would find great joy in knowing if my journey has touched you in any way.

What if you don’t like my story?

What if you do? Ah…that’s the question worth asking.

Frankly, it’s unproductive to spend time contemplating “what if’s”, but every once in a while I indulge.