Switching Back to Love in the Aftermath of Heartbreak
Where Everything Begins to Shift
There’s a lot of transformation happening in my life right now. The kind that forces you to slow down, recalibrate, and choose your line carefully.
I’ve been moving through a deep transition, letting go of what hurt me while healing at the same time. The more I sit with it, the more I realize it’s no different than crashing on a trail and finding your way back.
I’ve been there before.
I was pushing for Queen of the Mountain on Lower Spring Creek when I crashed hard racing uphill. Most people crash going downhill, but not me. I’ll crash going up or down.
I hit my head and dislocated my shoulder. Honestly, I still laugh trying to remember if it happened in 2022 or 2023. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought.
Still, I got back up.
That’s what this season of life keeps teaching me. You fall, you heal, and eventually you ride again.
Whether it’s on a bike, in a car, in a plane, or even behind a sewing machine, it doesn’t matter. Get on it. Move forward. Find your happiness every single day.
Healing Is a Practice, Not a Moment
Healing from heartbreak isn’t just emotional. It’s physical, neurological, and deeply human.
The more I study attachment and connection, the more sense it makes. Humans are wired for relationships. For most of history, being alone meant danger.
So when we lose someone we bonded with, our nervous system reacts as if something is wrong. Even when we logically know we’ll survive, our body still feels the loss.
At the same time, we move through countless emotions every day. Fear. Gratitude. Anxiety. Peace. Joy. Longing. Sometimes all before breakfast.
Right now, I’m intentionally guiding myself back toward happiness, not by avoiding pain but by working through it.
This has become my daily practice.
Fifteen or twenty minutes each day to sit with my emotions, process them, and let them move through me. I don’t suppress them, and I don’t let them take over either.
I treat healing the same way I would physical recovery after an injury. It needs attention, consistency, and time.
What we repeat matters.
Especially at night.
The thoughts we focus on and the emotions we replay shape how we heal. Our brains are built for survival, not happiness. That’s where intention matters. That’s where mindset, heart, and soul come in.
That’s where healing lives.
When Love Is Real, But Not Meant to Stay
Not long ago, I thought I had found my forever.
I loved a man deeply. We rode together, built together, and dreamed together. On August 2, 2025, at Jack London State Park, he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.
For a while, I truly believed that was the future we were heading toward.
Then things changed.
Sometimes people aren’t ready for the future they thought they wanted. Sometimes timing isn’t aligned. Sometimes growth hasn’t caught up yet.
That’s a painful truth to accept because the love was real. The memories were real. The connection was real.
But real doesn’t always mean sustainable.
It brought me back to one of the most important principles I’ve ever lived by: Partner Well.
Partnering well isn’t just about chemistry or shared experiences. It’s about alignment, consistency, emotional strength, and the ability to show up when life gets difficult.
Without those things, eventually something breaks.
Returning to Myself
Now I’m in the in-between.
Not clinging. Not avoiding. Just doing the work.
I’m returning to center and reconnecting with what matters most.
In my High-Value Woman book, I talk about the importance of balancing the major domains of life: self, partner, family, community, and business.
Right now, I’m grounding myself in those areas again while making sure I don’t lose myself in the process.
This is all part of building a healthier and happier life.
I see it constantly in the cycling community. People who have been riding for decades are still out there moving, smiling, growing, and healing.
That’s why I believe mountain biking is medicine.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
My brain, body, and mind work better together now than they ever have before. I feel younger at 50 than I did in my 30s.
That didn’t happen by accident.
It came from choosing every day to keep moving forward instead of shutting down.
Standing at the Start Line Alone
This week, I’m racing in the Marinduro on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County.
It’s my first enduro race.
There’s no beginner category. No easy entry point. Just sport, expert, or pro.
And me.
A beginner standing at the start line alone.
Race mornings have their own kind of silence. Tires rolling softly over dirt. Nervous laughter. Quiet focus.
I stood there with my bike and helmet in my hands feeling everything at once.
Excitement.
Fear.
Doubt.
Determination.
If I’m honest, I wish my former partner had been there. I wish I had someone beside me telling me I’ve got this.
But he isn’t here.
And maybe that’s part of the lesson.
Becoming My Own Partner
This experience is teaching me how to become my own partner.
Not just for a race, but for my life.
Underneath the heartbreak and healing is something deeper: the realization that we are stronger than we think we are.
Even when we feel alone, we still have ourselves.
We have the resilience we’ve built.
We have the courage we choose.
I’m scared.
But I’m also ready.
Ready to show up.
Ready to try.
Ready to be a beginner again.
I recently had the chance to talk with Gabby Huffman, who won the pro e-mountain bike race last year. Speaking with her gave me confidence.
Not confidence that I would win, but confidence that showing up matters.
And honestly, that’s enough for me.
I don’t care if I finish dead last.
If I make it through the race, I’ve already won.
Because this entire season of life has been about learning how to ride again on my own.
And trusting that I’m capable of becoming exactly who I need to be.
Closing One Chapter and Opening Another
I want to keep becoming.
I want to keep helping people.
I didn’t come from an easy beginning. I came from trauma and pain.
But that’s not how my story is going to end.
I’m choosing strength.
I’m choosing growth.
I’m choosing joy.
Even through heartbreak.
Even through healing.
Even through every single switchback.
And to the person who broke my heart, I genuinely hope you’re okay. I hope you grow. I hope you find what you’re looking for.
But as for me, I’m closing one chapter and opening another.
And I’m choosing to keep riding.
