I’ve started and finished this blog post a few times. I wrote it will riding my bike on Saturday. Then I wrote it again while watching cyclo-cross racing on Sunday and then again on Monday while eating lunch.

None of the words ever made it to the page though. I wrote and rewrote this post over and over again in my head. Sometimes the best ideas and writing happen for me when I’m fully relaxed and my mind is open to possibility.

This is not uncommon. There are numerous articles and books about the connection between walking and creativity. Stuck on a problem? Get outside and go for a walk. For me the walk is a bike ride or sitting outside with Calvin the cat.

In this time of constant information bombardment, finding time to let the mind stop processing information and so can it wander is incredibly important.

I can sum up the weekend with one word: people.

I had a fulfilling conversation with a man who had his colon removed five months ago. I was the first person with an ileostomy, like him, that he’d ever spoken to. It’s a special feeling to be able to help and reassure someone.

I think that one of the best ways for me to do good with my second chance at life is to be there for others who are living with ulcerative colitis or ileostomies. This human connection when you’re struggling or just need a person who understands is so incredibly important.

They say never meet your heroes, but for me, Friday night was all gold. In fact it was Olympic gold and World Championship gold… Cassie Campbell-Pascall and Jennifer Botterill were the feature speakers at an Ottawa Writer’s Festival event titled Game Changers.

Moderated by the one-and-only Kenzie Lalonde, this was an evening of trailblazing, empowerment, and backing yourself. Cassie and Jennifer have both recently published memoirs about their lives in and around hockey.

Two take-aways from the night: Why Not You? and Believe You Belong.

I haven’t finished reading both books but I recommend buying Just A Girl: A Memoir by Cassie Campbell-Pascall and Why Not You: My Story of Perseverance, Hockey, and Olympic Gold by Jennifer Botterill. You can watch the recording of the event on YouTube.

I shifted gears on Sunday from the ice rink to cyclo-cross. What a great day it was out at Long Sault watching people race in the Eastern Ontario Cyclo-Cross Series. It’s super motivating and encouraging to see people of all ages, skill, and experience levels out there racing and having fun.

It was a treat to catch-up with so many people and to experience the camaraderie of the Ottawa cyclo-cross community. There really is nothing like this anywhere else.

For a minute I actually thought about racing next week! But then I remembered how hard cyclo-cross is….

My cup was very full by Sunday evening. I count myself very lucky to be connected with and surrounded by so many fabulous people.

This is something I’ve recently learned we can’t take for granted. You never know when things will change.

Make time for your people. Be there for your friends and family. Be patient with strangers and acquaintances, you don’t know what they’re dealing with.

On Sunday afternoon I finished reading Brief Flashings in the Phenomenal World by Katie Arnold.

This book is one of those books. It sneaks up on you. At the start, you’re not sure and thinking well, at least I bought it in paperback. I’ll stick with it since it was recommended to me. But I’m not sure.

And then slowly but surely the words grab hold of you. You read slowly to make the book last. But at the same time you really just want to get to the next page to find out what happened.

This is a memoir. It’s also a book about writing. And a book about endurance sport. Most importantly, it’s a book about trusting in yourself. On learning to see yourself for who you are and to do the same for those around you. It’s a book about zen (Zen?) and meditation.

This is a book for everyone. You don’t need to be a writer, a runner, or a zen practitioner. If you’re alive (or maybe dead – who knows if we can read on the other side), this is a book for you. I think it will meet you wherever you are in your life.

It’s not thick. The chapters are short. The writing is crisp. The storytelling is next level. At the end you might find you have a few tears running down your face and you don’t know why—because you’re not sad. Maybe you’re happy sad about the possibilities you have ahead of you.

Or maybe if you’re like me, when you turned the last page, and put the book down, it stayed with you. Your brain was suddenly full of words. Words that you can’t really explain. You were writing sentences like you haven’t done in a very long time. Random thoughts were fitting together in real prose.

This book was like an energy drink for my writer brain. It made me want to write more. It reminded me that I just need to start. One sentence at a time. 15 random minutes in my green notebook. 30 minutes in Google Docs. Whatever and however, it’s the doing that matters, not what comes out at the end.

I know I’ll reread Brief Flashings in the Phenomenal World again. It’s one of those books I can turn to when I need to remind myself that we really all are the same—we all are capable of greatness, if only we’d give ourselves a chance and be kind to ourselves.

P.S. I bought this book thanks to a recommendation by Susan, the owner of Happenstance Books & Yarns in Lakefield, ON. If you’re ever in Lakefield or close by, visit this charming bookstore. You’re guaranteed to discover authors you wouldn’t normally find in your big box store and you’ll be fortunate to have a lovely conversation about books with the store owner.

And an extra P.S. I just took a look around Katie Arnold’s website and read about her Desert Flow Camp. Uhm, it looks amazing. Big Bend National Park. Stunning accommodation. A chance to completely let go and be in nature. An outdoor lap pool. Dedicated time for writing, thinking, and being. Yeah, it looks incredible.

The 2027 dates for this camp aren’t released yet, but I did look at flights to El Paso, Texas and Googled the weather… but alas, a trip like this to the United States will have to wait a little while longer. Can’t be going there until after November 2028. Too bad because it would be an awesome way to celebrate turning 55…

“Left leg, right leg, left leg, right leg…“

“This is fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. This is fine.“

“This isn’t anything you haven’t done before. You can do this.“

“I want to stop. Maybe just a short rest. No. You can’t stop. So long as you’re passing people you have to keep going.”

“When you get to Chalet Reynard, you can stop. Get some water and Coke. It’s only 6 km to the top from there.”

“Keep drinking. Eat. You need the calories.”

“It’s hot. So hot. It’s the same for everyone. You’re still sweating. You’re fine.”

“Keep pedaling. You’re passing people. You can do this.”

This was my internal monologue for the final 21 kilometers of L’Etape du Tour de France Femmes avec Zwift on August 6. This last 21 km was up the legendary Mount Ventoux. A long and I can honestly say, brutal climb.

For the entire climb I passed people. Not because I had set a blistering pace, but because this is a mountain that tells you very quickly if you’ve done the training, got the pacing right, and have been eating and drinking enough.

I nailed all of these key factors during the 90 kms leading up to the Giant of Provence.

“Your job is to drink both these bottles. One job. Drink.”

“There’s a big guy with shaved legs. Get on his wheel. Stay on his wheel.”

“Geez, there are some fast groups going by. Maybe I should try to ride with one? No, remember you’ve got the mountain still.”

“Keep pedaling. Just keep pedaling.”

“Sigh, eat more gummies. I know you’re sick of them. Eat them anyway.”

The day started with forcing myself to eat three croissants with peanut butter. Normally I have zero issues eating croissants, but on the morning of August 6, I was feeling a bit nervous.

I think everyone in the breakfast room was a bit on edge. Minimal conversation. Blips of nervous laughter. Zero eye contact.

Marc and I rode over to the start corals. This is hard to explain. Imagine 12 start corals with 1,000 people in each one. So many people everywhere. I was in coral 7 and Marc was in coral 8.

As is typical with massive events like this, there is a lot of waiting around in the coral. Once I found my coral, all I could do was sit.

Strangely my mind completely cleared. I was fine. Really fine. No longer nervous. All I had to do now was ride my bike. Something I feel like I was born to do.

“Look for gaps. Don’t get sucked in by the pace.”

“Oh, there’s a fast group. Get on it. Good. Find the draft.”

“You’re doing great.”

“Drink. Eat. I know you don’t feel like it. Do it.”

“Here we are, the Col du Propiac. No problem. Get to the hotel and then it’s five corners to the top.”

The Col du Propiac was the first major climb on the route. Fortunately I had ridden it the week prior with Rob Sule, the co-owner of the Maison Sule where we were staying in Malaucene. Thanks to Rob, I had ridden the entire course from Vaison La Romaine to Malaucene.

This was a massive help on the day. I knew what to expect and how to pace myself on the Col du Propiac and Col du Suzette. And critically, I knew that after the Suzette there was another big climb that wasn’t featured on the route map – the Col de la Chaîne.

For all three climbs, I stuck to my pace. And like Mount Ventoux, I passed people up all three climbs. This is new for me. Climbing is not my forte – but listening to my body and riding within myself is something I’m very good at.

In fact, on the day of the ride, I felt super confident and strong on the rides.

I didn’t feel like this the first time I rode them. I was in a major battle with my brain. I was surprised by how hard the climbs felt and was so afraid of not making it to the top.

And after a week or so of riding in France, I was ready. Doing a ride like this is about more than physical strength. It’s about confidence. I needed to know that I could do it.

The Saturday before the big day, I rode the last 45 km or so of the course, riding the Col de la Madeleine into Bedoin and then climbing Mount Ventoux. I was so nervous about this ride. So afraid that I wouldn’t be able to do it.

The last few kms of this climb are like nothing else – long steep ramps that never seem to end.

“Marc – I did it! I’m at the top.”

“Wow. Amazing. Good job. I knew you could do it. Never any doubt.”

While I wrote that on the day of the ride I was confident and strong, I didn’t feel like this the day before. I was so nervous. So scared. So terrified of not being able to do it.

“What if my legs give out?“

“What if I can’t do it? Can I handle the heat?“

“What if I get a flat tire?“

“What if, what if, what if...”

At Masion Sule, we met a lovely family – Katrin, Christian, and Moritz. Moritz is a 17-year old cyclist brimming with confidence. He had no doubt in his mind that he could ride up the Ventoux. In fact over three days, he rode up it 5 times!

I tried really hard to channel Moritz’s confidence. I thought about him a lot during the final climb and how sure he was of his abilities. Thanks Moritz – you showed me what confidence looks like and you helped me get up that mountain.

“You’re almost there. Keep pedaling.”

“Don’t look up. Eyes on the Garmin. Just get through the red.”

“Drink.”

“There are people everywhere. You’re passing them. Keep going.”

“You are so close. You are doing it!“

“Wait, is that Marc? Marc is on the mountain?“

As I made the final turn to the last steep ramp, I heard “Vicki – you’re doing it! I’m so proud of you. Way to go!!“. I knew Marc had finished the ride but I had no idea he was waiting for me at the summit.

He waited two hours for me in the hot sun. Hearing his voice gave me that last boost of energy I needed to get up and over the finish line.

“I did it!“

“I really did it.”

I was overwhelmed with fatigue, emotion, and complete joy. This ride that I had been thinking about since November 2025 was done. I had done it. I did the training. I got on my bike and I rode it.

I am so proud of me. 10 years ago I would never have believed I could do this.

What a way to celebrate the gift of having a second chance at life.

This ride was hard. Really hard. But I had so many reasons to never give up. To find that extra bit.

I owe massive thanks to ulcerative colitis and my ileostomy.

You gave me what I needed to get to the top of the mountain.

This was truly the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s changed me.

Wowza, not long now until we’re getting on the plane and flying to France. I’m equally parts excited and nervous.

I know that I have zero reason to be nervous about completing L’Etape du Tour de France Femmes avec Zwift on August 6. My training has been going really well. I’m riding well, I feel good on the bike, and I know that I can do it.

But there is that nagging fear of what if something happens? What if I get a flat tire? What if my pouch leaks? What if I feel not great on the day? All of these “what ifs” can easily stack up and cause a spiral of self-doubt.

Fortunately, I’ve done hard things before. I know that this happens — I neglect to acknowledge the training, my experience, and fitness — and get caught up in self-doubt and impostor syndrome.

Luckily I know when it’s happening and can talk myself back (usually). This nervousness is all down to the hugeness of riding L’Etape.

For me, this ride is about more than the 121 km and climbing Mount Ventoux.

The journey I’ve been on since 2015, the last time I rode up Mount Ventoux has been a lot. Crossing the finish line of L’Etape will be a real full-circle moment.

The last time I rode up Mount Ventoux, I had to get off 600 meters from the finish. I was completely done. Could not pedal at all. Turns out I was in a full-blown ulcerative colitis flare. Remicade, the medication I was taking, had stopped working.

It was this flare that precipitated my surgery on August 8, 2016 to have my colon removed.

10 years later, I’ll be riding 121 km — summiting Mount Ventoux. Feels pretty good to think about this.

I’ve come a long way in 10 years. It really feels like a lifetime ago, when I was so sick that I couldn’t leave the house and was in a very deep pit of despair.

How lucky am I to have this second chance at life and truly living? I’ve imagined what it will feel like to cross under that finishing banner at the top of Ventoux. I expect to be elated, exhausted, and very emotional. Just thinking about it makes my eyes a bit blurry.

And I’m not going to lie, I just spent a few minutes reading every page on the L’Etape website. I felt the butterflies in my stomach. Reading about the time cut is what gets me. I know I’ll be fine. But still, there’s that little voice whispering “what if”…

I need to stop reading the website! I need to trust my training. I need to remember that I have the will, tenacity, and capability to push myself as deep as possible to make sure I cross the line.

I know I can and will do it. There is nothing that will stop me from crossing the finish line.

Can’t wait. Not long now. I’m sure the next few weeks will fly by.

P.S. here some highlights from our last trip to Malaucene, France and riding up and down Mount Ventoux.

I’ve learned something huge about myself over the past 6 months.

I am a goal-oriented person.

Give me a goal and I’ll do everything I can to achieve it.

If I don’t have a goal, I won’t be all in and committed. I’ll do what I feel like when the conditions are ideal.

This early spring has not been conducive to riding outside. It’s been cold. It’s been very windy.

Last year I wouldn’t have been riding. I would have found excuses to not ride—too cold, too windy, I’ve got other stuff to do, I’l go for a walk, I’m tired, etc.

Not this year! There is nothing quite like a 120 km ride that ends with climbing Mount Ventoux to get me out on my bike regardless of the conditions and whatever else I’d prefer to be doing.

And you know what—I feel fantastic about this. Setting this goal has been the best decision I’ve made in a long time.

The commitment to riding all winter on the trainer, getting up early to do a weight workout, foam rolling, stretching, etc. has trickled over into other parts of my life.

I’m doing more drawing, taking courses, pushing myself.

I’m spending a lot of time on professional development—getting certified as a content engineer, learning about Skills, Projects, Codex, Custom GPTS, Agents, and how to use AI to create efficient systems for better content creation.

I’m reading more books than I ever have.

I feel like I’m taking advantage of being alive. I’m using all the resources I have to fully develop all aspects of myself. This really excites me.

I think I’ve been in a bit of stasis for a while—nothing to shoot for, nothing that got me really excited, and my brain kind of relaxed a bit.

Not anymore! In the last week, I’ve been more productive and happier than I can remember.

Of course, for a Type A like me, there is a fine line. Too many things on the “I’m so excited I have to do this now” list can quickly become overwhelm, pushing me into decision fatigue and not being able to get anything done.

Good news is—I’ve become pretty astute at noticing this and saying to myself “what is the next thing?” and creating to do lists of only 3 or 4 items that I confidently know I can accomplish.

What a revelation it is to be in this state of mind and body.

I feel stronger, smarter, more confident, and ready to keep going.

You might be reading this and thinking “oh geez, Vicki is going to crack any day now.” Don’t worry, I’ve thought of this.

The course I’m taking is only three weeks long. I’ve finished the first week. I put limits on how much time I spend on the computer. I make sure I’m prioritizing riding, fresh air, relaxing, and doing nothing.

The thing is—there is lots of time in the day, I just wasn’t using it effectively.

What a difference a few goals make in finding the time and recognizing what wasn’t serving me.

If you’re curious about what I’m learning about AI and content engineering, I’m posting weekly on Good Words Work about this. Soon there will be new content about content engineering on my website—this is a new service I’ll be offering as soon as I finish the course and get certified.

I created this image with ChatGPT for the new column on my website. Pretty cool isn’t it?

And here are a few of my latest charcoal drawings: