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The winning…and the losing. So that was 2018.

Gathering some strength for the new year to come…better, happier, stronger.

That #bestnine on Instagram is a funny thing isn’t it…you let a computer algorithm decide your highlights for the year. It’s the anomaly that exists on social media that we post the best of ourselves, the way we want the world to see us: the Wheel Women #bestnine is a glorious exposé of wins, success, fun, laughter and a little bit of adventure. But the saddest part is that I had to ask a friend to remind me what was great in the year almost gone.

No computer algorithm could remind me of the loss, the frustration, the hard work, the late nights, the disagreements, the tears…oh yes, and sometimes the incredible lack of tears behind the pictures. Fighting against that human spirit when it falls in a heap is like climbing a small Everest, and no algorithm will ever be able to detect the pain behind some of the pictures it selects as your #bestnine.

From L to R starting top row: This Girlc Can VIC campaign commences, morning Wednesday Warrior rides, the This Girl Can VIC ad campaign on tv, Wheel Women Ride at Tour Down Under, beach rides…my favourite, winning the Cycling Luminaries Leadership Award, my favourite Marimekko is a blast from childhood, winning the Best Outdoor Active Recreation program from VicSport, teaching women to ride.

At the close of another year at Wheel Women it may seem incongruous for me to write about negativity in the face of what has always been an incredibly positive, vibrant, successful group – but behind this year has been so much heartache, shock and at times darkness. And I have debated over and over again whether to post this, or not…

As always we started our year with the #wheelwomenride at Tour Down Under. I left Melbourne for the event knowing my mother was ill, rode on the day to know that things had declined substantially and felt the anxiety quietly as we rode, and exited Adelaide sooner than expected to get back home only to lose Mum the day after my return. It called an end to many months of suffering, stress and sadness. Perhaps I surprised many by my lack of tears…all I wanted was to be left alone, and to ride.

Mum and me…that’s me aged 3 in one of my favourite dresses.

The success of the #wheelwomenride at TDU became a forgotten blurr in my mind. With 100 riders in attendance there was no question that what Wheel Women does inspires so many women to just give riding a crack. What I had set out to build some 6 years ago was recognised by others too when I was named as one of the key Ambassadors for the This Girl Can VIC campaign, an honour I still can’t quite believe! But shadowing all of this for me was that monumental loss of the woman who told me ‘keep moving, just don’t stop’.

Mum wouldn’t be there to see the final This Girl Can VIC ads hit the tv screens, or see her daughter who wears ‘ridiculous’ lycra be on the back of a bus and the side of a tram…maybe it was best she didn’t see it! She scorned my obsession with riding for a long time, but eventually conceded to feeling jealous about my ability to be active, mobile and fit – something she had lost due to her choices about activity versus inactivity along with incapacitating arthritis.

My choice of activity meant I was winning. Wheel Women took out the Best Outdoor Active Recreation Program at the VicSport Awards, and later in the year I was named as the recipient of the Cycling Luminaries Leadership Award – oh the incongruity of this one when I’d felt incapable of any leadership. For a second year running I acted as an Ambassador for the Jean Hailes for Women’s Health organisation which is a wonderful organisation to work with and represent – only to find I felt like a fraud. You see, all that activity didn’t mean I could dodge a bullet…I wasn’t as healthy as all seemed. I’d warded off the potential Type 2 diabetes scare I’d been warned about by my doctor some years earlier, and I’d lost weight and gotten a whole lot fitter….but there was far more to this picture.

Jean Hailes For Women’s Health Ambassador.

The real slap in the face came when I was diagnosed with heart disease – it really knocked me for six. All that activity, fresh air, fun and positivity couldn’t take away the fact my genetics pre-disposed me to the 50% blockage in my left aorta. My father died of a heart attack at age 52, so the fear of that unknown had always been with me – I didn’t dodge that bullet! I’ll admit, it clouded much of my thinking for many months as I come to terms with the implications of heart disease. I felt like a fraud to be an ambassador for women’s health.

On the upside, I am now armed with crucial information…at least I found out the importance of talking to my doctor when all is not well. I found support, care and concern.

This year has marked so much loss for me, both physical and metaphorical: loss of family, loss of friends and friendships, loss of health, loss of my beloved best doggy friends Lucky and Barney (my two dogs who I lost within 6 weeks of each other). It’s been hard to stay focused and positive, or make good decisions in the face of such overwhelming grief. I have had a year of feeling like most things I have done are wrong, and embarrassingly imperfect. And I’ve sure made some monumental mistakes too.

Some of my favourite moments of 2018, from L to R: Andrea and Treena made me laugh in their samurai gear, the Shimanami Cycling event ride, reunited with my good friend Keiko in Onomichi, doing salsa with Andrea in Hiroshima, visiting Kinkakuji with these two crazies, drinks in the evening with the girls, our new outfits, reunited with freinds in Hiroshima: Mayumi, Atsuko, Keiko and Emi, reunited with the crazy Aki and Mari who make me laugh.

So what have I learned? When we choose to be critical of ourselves, and of others around us we drain ourselves from being able to see the great stuff…it’s an energy zapper. And I’ve d