Krista Anderson

“Push, pedal, breathe, push, pedal, breathe” was the mantra I repeated in my mind as I climbed that steep Provence countryside hill that seemed to never end. My boyfriend at the time, reminded me to keep my eyes on the top as a strategy to push through. “You’ve got this Krista!” “You are doing so great!”, he continued to chant while riding along side of me. He was always the greatest encourager.

I was halfway up the hill when suddenly I began coughing. Thinking it would last just a moment, I continued to focus my eyes on the top of the hill, but the cough got deeper and more frequent. Trying to catch my breath I struggled to find air inside of my lungs. I slowed down a little thinking that might help. But it didn’t. Each breath felt hollow and empty. As if I was gasping for the last bit of oxygen on earth. “What is happening?”, I thought. I had never felt like this before. As fear and my body’s response began to outweigh my determination to reach the top, I stopped, got off of my bike and began to panic. “Will I catch my breath?” “Am I going to die?”

My boyfriend stopped and came to me. I was surprised by his calmness. He said, “Krista, you are going to be ok, I promise.” “Your lungs are not used to this, but they will learn to be.” He continued to give me a scientific explanation of the little pockets inside my lungs and what was happening. I stared back at him, trusting him. Believing his every word. His words began to calm me down.

After a few minutes I finally caught my breath, I looked to the top and knew it wouldn’t be possible. With frustration and anger I grabbed my bike and began to walk it up the hill. Tears streamed down my face while I began to question, “Why does this have to be my life now?” I just wanted to live and breathe like everyone else.

Returning home in defeat, I went into the bathroom to take a shower. As I started to undress, I looked in the mirror and saw that my lips were blue. “No, not this too!”, I thought. I had no idea the state my lungs were in. My surgery had been over 10 years ago. The tears began to stream down my face but this time more intensely. As my blue-stained lips stared back at me, I surrendered to the reality. I will never be able to cycle…

Since the moment cancer took one of my lungs, I never questioned if I would have difficulties living a completely normal life. Somehow on my journey through cancer I always had a mental superpower to block out the reality of what I was facing. Even when the doctor looked at me with ice-cold emotion and said, “Krista, you have maybe three months to live”. It never regsistered in my mind as a death sentence.  Instead, I gave him an ice cold look back, told him that he was wrong and walked out of his office. No one was going to tell me how my life would end when I knew I had the power inside of me to change it. Not even a doctor.

When COVID hit France and we went into lockdown I decided to escape my city center apartment in Aix-en-Provence to stay with my boyfriend in the countryside. Being locked up in the city with the lack of fresh air and the ability to move around for an undetermined amount of time didn’t sound like the life of happiness I escaped the American Dream for.

At the beginning of confinement, my boyfriend asked me to go cycling with him. He’s a passionate road cyclist and I thought it would be something for us to enjoy together. He had an extra mountain bike in his garage, and I had some gym clothes. Why not? What else was there to do? After all, we were in lockdown.

But after that first day when the steep hill and my lungs defeated me, I was left feeling lifeless as I laid in bed recovering from physical, mental and emotional exhaustion. I hadn’t felt such a debilitating moment since losing feeling in my hands and feet during chemotherapy.

Replaying the moment of failure over in my mind I then remembered my surgeon telling me that I wouldn’t be able to do intense cardiovascular activities again. I guess that must have been a moment I was using my mental superpower and ignored him predicting my future disabilities.

The next day my boyfriend boldly asked me to go cycling again. As if somehow, he could see into my future. How could I possibly get back on that bike when I knew what I was going to face. But something inside of me was determined not to give up. Maybe an ounce of the determination I used to overcome the death sentence cancer gave me was remaining inside of me somewhere.

As we started out on the flat countryside road childhood memories began to surface.  The feeling of freedom I felt riding around town with my friends as a young girl began to rise up inside of me. Given the current situation with a virus spreading around the world, I was grateful for the sensation of freedom it brought me again.

I had only ridden one other time since I was young. An unforgettable moment of daring greatly in the city streets of London. Maneuvering courageously through traffic on the opposite side of the road from where we drive in the US. I remember feeling so free like a bird with no care in the world. The feeling that brings an uncontrollable smile to your face. A sensation that I have only experienced through being on a bicycle.

As I continued to pedal, I looked around taking in the views of the countryside. It was the beginning of March and nature was coming out of winter hibernation. Provence’s famous almond trees were announcing like trumpets with their glorious white flowers that spring is here, and warmer weather is on its way!

Passing along rows upon rows of pruned grape vines sprouting little green buds of life. Returning from a much-needed recovery of completing their duty of providing the world with some of the most famous wine. Rolling mountains sat as a backdrop off in the distance. Stacked one behind another with the shadows of the clouds reflecting off of them. Birds chanting an anthem and trees waving their branches from the soft wind as I passed them by. The road felt like the red carpet and nature was a loyal crowd cheering me on.

Five days a week we began to cycle the same 24 km route with four hills, two of which were steep climbs and the other two stretched long. I would pedal as far as I could go up each hill without losing air in my lungs and succumbing to a fit of coughing. Then, get off and walk my bike up the hill. 

This strategy became my one lung solution to cycling. Although I never made it to the top without stopping, I did try hard to make progress. Many times, I remember feeling like I had nothing more to give inside of my lungs but then my boyfriend would encourage me to push harder. Reminding me that my body was more powerful than I knew. I was scared of what may happen if I push too hard. Would I pass out? Would I die? It seemed near impossible for my body to give anything more, but looking back, I believe he knew what I would soon discover.

I started to feel more relaxed on the bike. My legs were predictably sore, but slowly getting used to their new adventure. I enjoyed the flats and descends but those climbs were a blur. Each time, asking why I was putting myself through such injustice. But somehow the pain was slowly removing my self-imposed limits and revealing the power of my mind and its link to my performance.

Three weeks into what felt like continuous self-torture, we started out on our habitual route. Warming up on the flat road for 10-15 minutes like usual and then arriving to the first hill. But this time, in amazement, I rode straight to the top. I wasn’t gasping for air. No coughing. Shocked, I continued to pedal on with confusion of what had just happen. Arriving to the second, third and fourth hills I told myself, “If I can get to the top of one hill, I can get to the top of this one too.” I rode straight up each hill without any problems. Of course, I was breathing hard but nothing like I had experienced before. “How was this possible?”, I began to question. It was like a flip of a switch and everything had changed.

Arriving at home having completed the route without stopping or struggling to breathe, I realized a miracle had taken place. Something in my lungs had changed. For the first time in 10 years I felt like I had two lungs again. I stood looking in the bathroom mirror that once brought me tears of devastation but this time bringing me tears of joy. No blue lips, no post-ride coughing, just smooth breathing. It was then that I realized it would be possible to breathe like everyone else again. It was then that cycling began to change my life.

After confinement, I graduated from a 14 kg steel mountain bike to a real 7.5 kg TREK carbon road bike. Purchasing all the gear, I set out on solo countryside rides. The first week with my new bike I fell off of it three times as I learned how to ride with clip-in pedals. Bruising and scrapping up my hands and legs. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for me to get used to them after those experiences.

Later, I joined a cycling club for group rides and began studying GCN YouTube videos and reading blogs on how to become a better cyclist. Each ride I would implement the technical and mental strategies I was learning to become faster, stronger and more comfortable on the bike. I was quickly making progress until I had my first real accident that put me out for a week.

I took a sharp turn that had oil on the road. Something that you can’t foresee until after it happens. My bike lost control dragging me down the road by my chin and hips. When I finally stopped, I looked up and saw a car coming. I managed to snap my shoes out of the pedals and pull my bike to the side of the road just in time. I looked down and could see my legs scraped up and holes in the hips of my bibbed shorts. As I peeked inside my bibs I could see my flesh was torn off and blood was oozing. My chin and right palm sore and beginning to form a bruise. Thanks to cyclist adrenaline, the accident didn’t cause fear to enter my mind about getting back on the saddle. So, I put the chain back on my bike and took off down the road. This time with a little more caution to the possibilities of mysterious oil spills.

Since beginning my cycling journey 8 months ago I’ve learned many things. In addition to the fact that our bodies can heal themselves, I’ve learned that to be a good cyclist you have to have proper nutrition. Truthfully good organic sports nutrition is hard to come by. As the owner of, ESSTAR, a natural food distribution company in the US, I’m always in search of healthy and transparent products.

With cycling I knew I needed something to sustain my energy and give my body the proper nutrition that it needs to perform. So, I began a search for organic sports nutrition companies and that’s when I discovered Raw Velo. Led by two guys who are passionate cyclists and understand the importance of wholesome nutrition and the effects it has on the body. Impressed by their clean, simple ingredients from nature, unlike many companies I found, that produce products with chemicals. Rarely do you find sports nutrition products that are nutritious and taste good. Raw Velo is both. I’m grateful to have found a first-class brand that I can trust to help my performance and keep me healthy on the bike.

On top of better health and proper nutrition, cycling has given me community. From those who I have met through the club to those whose paths I’ve crossed while on the road or at habitual coffee stops. Many of my friends who have watched my journey have decided to begin riding as well. Without each other I’m not sure many people would understand our crazy passion that we cannot live without. Plus, it has been statistically proven that surrounding yourself with strong community aids in a longer, happier and healthier life.

Lastly, the realization of the power of the mind. I once heard that we as humans only use 1% of our potential. It’s sad to think we never truly discover what we are made of and what we can accomplish just through the thoughts we think. Cycling has taught me to increase the 1%. The mental resilience I have built to push myself past my limits has carried over into my work life. Pushing through mental barriers that would normally stop me from moving forward and the simple lesson of when things look difficult, there’s always a solution. Cycling has provided me a unique place for meditation to release all negative energy and be inspired to reach new limits in my life. It has become the source that arouses my childhood spirit and reminds me to live in the moment while riding through some of the most famous landscapes of Provence. The feeling that I have when I finish a long and strenuous ride is better than any drug you can buy.

Looking back when I struggled to climb that first hill, I would have never imagined I would be training to compete in my first GFNY race in Tuscany, Italy this spring. A stage to discover what more I’m capable of accomplishing and an attempt to increase my potential to 2%.

There’s no denying that cycling has completely changed my life. It gave me my lungs back. I no longer have pain under my right ribcage acting as a constant reminder of cancers attempt to disable my life. It’s disappointing that I was never told it would be possible to increase my lung function or that I could breathe normally again. I thought it was just my cross to bear for the rest of my life and there was no changing it. I’m grateful to have discovered the truth and to now have a new story to tell. A story that cycling is one of the best medicines. A story of victory. It has taught me that anything is possible.

 

For more about my cycling journey and life in Provence, follow me on Instagram @kristaanderson.co