After 21 hours of flying, 32 hours with hardly any sleep, and a breathtaking stopover in Fiji, we finally touched down in Cairns, Australia—the land where just about anything can harm or eat you!
The air here is alive with energy—it’s almost go time. But there’s something more than excitement in this place. There’s a spirit, a deep connection people share with the land. You can feel it in the air, in the forests, and even in the coral-streaked seas. “We are all visitors to this time, this place. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love, and then we return home,” an Aboriginal saying reminds me.
No matter how I place in the race, being here, pursuing dreams surrounded by amazing people, is a privilege I will never take for granted.
Two days before race day, we plunged into the wild beauty of Cairns. Riding a gondola over the world’s oldest tropical rainforest—150 million years of tangled, vibrant history below us—I was in awe. Crocodile-filled rivers, the vast Barron Gorge, and towering 400-year-old Kauri trees stretched as far as the eye could see. Along the boardwalks, waterfalls thundered, brilliant blue Ulysses butterflies flitted by, and even a cassowary—arguably the world’s most dangerous bird—kept me on my toes. We ended the day in Kuranda with a cold glass of ginger blue beer, the perfect reward for an unforgettable pre-race adventure.
I also had the chance to meet up with another Australian female rider Sharon I had known for many years as we met in Andorra—she had just won yet another world title right here in Australia! It was wonderful to catch up, reminisce, and discuss lines before the race.
I also met a rider from Spain, who would later become a rival right here at Worlds, and had great time practicing on the course with one of her friends.
On the last day of the prep I was excited to share practice laps with Tinker Juarez himself, we tried few different lines but simply were having a great ride and time on this spectacular race course.
The days leading up to our departure were anything but calm. Just before leaving home, I started feeling sharp chest pains that I couldn’t quite explain. I tried to brush them off, convincing myself it was just stress or nerves — but deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. By the time we arrived in Cairns, the tension had followed me halfway across the world.
The medics’ tent confirmed my chest pains were unexplained and told me to go to the ER if it worsened — just one day before the World Championships. Madness!
Race Day
Race day arrived, and nerves were high. I started mid-pack, knowing that my endurance-based start wouldn’t put me at the front immediately. The double track and initial climbs came fast, and I began carefully navigating through riders, watching every line, every slick patch of Australian red clay.
Early in the race, I encountered my first major challenge: a massive, nearly vertical rock mound. The rider ahead of me slowed unexpectedly, forcing me to brake hard and take a completely new line—a line I was not intending to ride. In the heat of the moment, she shouted, “Stop being a b*tch!”—something no one had ever said to me in all my years of racing.
I was not furious though, I actually quietly amused and smiled to myself, I found it funny, and I focused on what I could control. I pushed hard, found a fast line after she blocked just another of my lines, and passed her.
Step by step, I clawed my way up, passing other competitors and chasing the front group. I was seriously flying here. Finally, I caught up to the leaders, and a surge of confidence hit me. “I got this,” I thought. I felt happy, focused, and ready. This was my moment, and I knew I could pull it off.
But then the problems began. My pedals started unclipping repeatedly on slick, rocky climbs—seven times on one ascent, four on the next, three on another. Each pop cost precious seconds, erasing the advantage I had worked so hard to gain. It was all my fault, as I lubed the pedals night before and forgot to wipe the excess, now I was paying the price. Every step of the main climb was agony: my muscles burned, my lungs screamed, and the heat and humidity felt like an oven baking me alive.
Despite the setbacks, I chased the remaining riders, pushing through the jungle descents and technical rock gardens as fast as I could. The laps were going by in the mad speed. I made some additional passes but the gap was too big to catch top three. The final climb loomed—a short 30-foot push that looked easy but, after an hour of racing in extreme conditions, felt insurmountable. I really didn't know how I was going to get to the top. But step by step, I made it, every muscle trembling, every breath searing. It was rough. The final section all I had left was to cruise to the finish line, knowing that I did my best and gave all I got here.
Crossing the line in 4th place, just over a minute from the podium, I felt pride, exhaustion, and relief all at once. Later while back at home, I learned that the chest pains I had experienced during the trip were caused by pleuritis, inflammation of the lung lining—a terrible coincidence—but it didn’t take away from the grit and focus I poured into this race.
Every second of the 1 hour and 10 minutes pushed me to the edge. The heat and humidity were brutal, mistakes were costly, and the competition was fierce—but I rode my heart out.
Post-Race Adventure
After the race, we had just one day to spare, and I was determined to see the Great Barrier Reef—a dream I’d carried since stepping off the plane. My husband, Pax, decided to have a little fun. I woke up at 5 a.m., thinking we were going on a “stupid speed boat” he booked to tease me—and I was not happy! But secretly, he had arranged the perfect plan: a catamaran sail on the Ocean Free.
The 30-knot winds tossed the boat sideways, waves sent us nose-diving, and yet every moment felt electric. The crew was so amazing, and it was a very cameral setting, it almost felt like sailing with a family. I loved it.
We sailed past Green Island, snorkeled among vivid corals and neon fish, and celebrated with champagne toasts while the sun glinted off the wild sea. Pure magic.
Australia offered so much more than racing. From jungle humidity to sparkling reefs, from Barron Falls to the warmth of Trinity Beach sunrises, every moment was alive with color, sound, and life. As another Aboriginal saying goes, “Traveler, there are no paths. Paths are made by walking.”
Every walk and pedal stroke reminded me why we chase these dreams, even across the globe. Endless gratitude goes to our family, friends, and supporters who followed along from afar—your energy traveled with us through every climb, plunge, and wave.
I didn’t come home with a world title this time, but I brought back something even more precious: memories etched in sweat, salt, sun, and smiles—moments that will last a lifetime. The Australia's food was delicious, I saw baby kangaroos that I totally am obsessed with. So all fell in place.
From the forests to the reef, Australia gave us a wild, sun-drenched, salt-sprayed adventure I will never forget.
In Loving Memory
This post is dedicated to Terry, Pax’s mom, who lived every step of our Australia adventure with us from afar, sharing in our excitement, cheering us on, and celebrating every moment. Her love and support made this journey possible, and we will always remember the joy she brought to this trip. Thank you Terry...
