So, there I was yesterday at 5pm, basking in the afterglow of what I’d arrogantly dubbed a “triumphant” bike ride, when reality decided to slap me with a wet fish. Imagine me, dismounting my bike, only to find the ground beneath me had transformed into a spinning teacup ride from hell. Nope, not the enjoyable kind. More like clutching the fake horse for dear life, trying not to redecorate the pavement with my lunch. Enter stage left: my vertigo episode, everyone. It’s like finding yourself on a boat amidst a tempest, except there’s no water, no storm, just my room doing its best impression of a carousel.

Snuggles, my so-called guardian angel in human form, tucked me into bed, probably muttering, “Well, isn’t this a pickle.” Meanwhile, I’m lying there, practicing the art of staying as still as a statue because, surprise, that’s my new hobby. The dream was to fly off to some picturesque getaway, mixing a sprinkle of work with a hefty dose of mountain biking—idyllic, right? But vertigo scoffed at those plans.

Since then, Snuggles jetted off to Denver, off to sprinkle some of that filming fairy dust in Arizona. And me? I’m officially on the sick list, because attempting to work (or really do anything) feels like trying to sew with a jackhammer. Here I am, stranded with my own spinning thoughts, mulling over my life decisions and if teleportation could bypass my inner ear’s mutiny.

Despite my body’s decision to take me on this unwanted thrill ride, I’m stubbornly holding onto plans for that trip. Because honestly, who lets a bit of vertigo crash their adventure party? Not yours truly. For the moment, I’m resigned to studying the fascinating patterns my ceiling makes as it orbits around my bed.

By some stroke of luck—or maybe just stubbornness—I wriggled out of bed by 11. The world was still doing its best laundry spin impression, but my stomach’s rumblings won over the queasiness. Successfully eating without a round two was a small victory. And then, as if by magic, by noon I felt…almost normal? Dare I say, ready to hit the road?

So, in true adventure-seeker fashion, I did the only sensible thing—I packed and made a beeline for Pipestone. That’s right, your hero arrived at the Pipestone Spring Break Training Camp 2024, kicking vertigo to the curb.

Now, post-ride, I’m basking in the glow of what was an absolutely stellar day. The ride? It was a beautiful cocktail of thrill and pure joy. It’s these moments that remind me why I refuse to let life’s curveballs keep me on the bench (pun absolutely intended).

Missing this camp wasn’t in the cards, and I’m buzzing to say not only did I show up, I soared. The trails were mint, the crew was stellar, and my body decided to play nice, giving vertigo the cold shoulder—for the time being.

As I sit here, exhausted yet overwhelmingly content, I’m hit with a wave of gratitude for this rollercoaster of a journey. From tackling vertigo’s wild ride to conquering Pipestone’s trails, it’s been a whirlwind of triumphs. Here’s to more escapades, less spinning, and the undying quest for joy on two wheels. Keep your eyes peeled for more chronicles from the trail.