The Girl with the Cowbell Tattoo: The Hardest Story
Before everything, I’d been listing the million things I wanted to write about in this column: the triathlon I did right before racing ’cross at Nittany, the whirlwind that was Interbike and Cross Vegas, the amazing trip to China for their first UCI cyclocross race, and how Holy Week of ’cross in New England simply blows everything out of the water, how it’s like coming home every year.
And then, within seconds, everything changed. Heart pounding, blood rushing, frantically clicking at the keyboard, hitting translate over and over again hoping so, so hard that the translation was off, because for something so terrible to happen, it just couldn’t be true. But it was, and so I sat in a coffeeshop with my head in my hands and sobbed.
It’s taken me a week and a half to come up with something to say, and normally, I’m much more of a writer than a talker. But in this case, it was actually too much to find the words to write about it. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t have anything to say.