Sometimes, when the going gets tough and our body tells us it’s had enough, our mind rises in the most incredible way to push us past the finish line. Other times, it's the reverse. The irony? I first started moving my body to save my mind. And in an unexpected twist, I needed my mind to save my body. Over the past few years, I’ve forged a deep connection with that mind-body relationship, using it to power through some of life’s toughest challenges on and off the bike. This journey of using hard times as fuel for better days has empowered me to set new goals and reach higher, showing me the path for the incredible strength each of us possesses.
Amid a pandemic, I was in uncharted territory—navigating a new reality for myself and my kids. There I was, alone with three boys in the house, feeling uncertain and anxious. I turned to sport as my anchor.
I started running for just 20 minutes each day. It gave me an outlet, a rhythm, and a way to process change. It wasn’t long before a friend, seeing my aptitude for running, said, “I think you should try a road bike.” I laughed. “Me? On skinny tires? Clipped in? I don’t think I could do it.”
But there I was, one month later, finding my cycling legs in Saucony runners, riding up and down a car-free path. I bought my first serious road bike, clipped into pedals, and discovered a vibrant community of cyclists. They taught me new routes, how to climb mountains, and greet the sunrise from Vancouver’s bridges, gateways to breathtaking mountain scapes. This community became my support system, source of inspiration, and reason to keep pushing forward. I embraced cycling culture—the white socks, trendy kits, the power of drafting. Most of all, I was delighted to learn something new. Something I thought was outside of what I could do.
But this wasn’t just about mastering a sport—it was about rebuilding myself, piece by piece. Then, everything stopped.
A serious cycling accident descending Cypress Mountain left me broken, physically and mentally. It would have been easy to quit, to let fear win. But I saw this as a different kind of training—an opportunity to strengthen my mind in ways I never had before.
If my accident imposed limits on my body, then my mind would have to take the lead. I leaned into every tool I had and found new ones. I trained in mindfulness and became a Yin yoga instructor. As part of my recovery, I explored clinical hypnosis and somatic massage therapy. I wanted to descend into the depths of healing to return whole—stronger than before.
Through pain, setbacks, multiple surgeries, and some of my lowest lows, I rode again as soon as I was cleared. The first thing I did? I went back to the crash site and descended the mountain once more. I stopped at Chippendale Corner on the ascent, laid a stone wreath with flowers, and wrote "love." I whispered a plea to my "crash goblin" to spare others. The climb felt powerful, my breath cleansing me of doubt. But on the way down, I shook and cried. My mind screamed: “What kind of person does this again? What about your kids?” But I pressed on. I reached the bottom, telling my friends to ride ahead—I needed to face this alone.
Each time I rode, it got a little better. I rode with fierceness and friends, and I continue today. I wish I could say the fear is gone, but it lingers. The longer I stay off the bike, the louder it grows. Even this year, descending in Maui after a few months off the bike, I felt tears on my cheeks. But life is worth living, and I refuse to let fear steal the joy, freedom, and sheer delight of trying new things.
Eventually, those pedal strokes stitched together, leading me to the start line of my first Fondo—a dream I had before my crash. As I rode a Fondo a year later, I reclaimed my resilience with every climb, descent, and corner. Step by step, I let my mind show my body what it was truly capable of.
This I know to be true: movement strengthens our bodies, sharpens our minds, and teaches us—endlessly, enduringly—to overcome, adapt, and grow.
This journey has taught me that everything starts with one step, one pedal stroke, one inch forward. It’s the accumulation of tiny habits that leads to great things. Even an upward spiral is still progress. Growth is always within our reach. Now, I share my journey of recovery, resilience and the power of building mental strength with others.
1. Start Small and Stay Consistent
Mental toughness isn’t built overnight—it’s strengthened through small, daily actions. Keeping promises to yourself, even when you don’t feel like it, is everything. Whether it’s eating an apple daily or walking for 20 minutes on Saturdays, consistency builds resilience. In my toughest moments, I return to this mantra: “You’ve been here before. It felt like this before, and you made it through.” This self-trust, this belief in your own strength, is unstoppable.
2. Reframe the Struggle
Instead of seeing challenges as obstacles, consider them opportunities to grow stronger. Turn despair into discovery. When your legs burn or your mind wants to quit, remind yourself: This is where the change happens. This is where I get stronger. I often ask myself, What is my body trying to tell me? Struggle isn’t a roadblock—it’s the path.
3. Train Your Mind Like a Muscle
Just like your body, your mindset strengthens with training. Visualization has been my secret weapon since my competitive Nordic skiing days. Before big moments—races, presentations, life challenges—I mentally walk through them. I visualize one version where everything goes well. Then I do it again, picturing how I’ll overcome something going wrong. Before a race, I see myself hitting a wall—and then I see myself pushing through. You’ve got this. Finish strong.
The stronger your mind, the stronger your body.
Optimize your mindset and achieve greater gains on the bike! Kristen is offering this special session for RBC GranFondo supporters. You'll walk away with valuable tips and tools for incorporating mental resilience training into your fitness plan.
Enter the code "KristenFondo25" at checkout. Spots are limited. Register now to receive the Zoom link.
Kristen Anderson is an RBC GranFondo Ambassador who lives fully and laughs often. Her motto is to: “move with heart.” As a Performance Coach and ambassador for psychological and physical health, she inspires and empowers others to live their best lives. Kristen is also a Boston Marathoner and an energetic mom of three boys. You can find her work at puremindperformance.com.
Inspired? Register for RBC GranFondo Whistler today, and learn about Project 30by30, the event's 6-year initiative that aims to explore and grow female participation in the sport of cycling.
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