Looking Back on the Year That Wasn’t — and Forward to 2026
Quantico / OCS — December 23, 2023. Riding into a new year, unaware of how much was about to change.
At the beginning of most years, I like to pause and take stock — to look back on where I rode, what I explored, and how the bike shaped the year behind me. It’s one of the reasons I keep detailed titles and notes on my Strava activities. That simple habit helps me reflect, review, and plan.
That kind of journaling has become a small ritual here on BestRidesDC — a way of marking time and setting direction.
I wrote one of these posts for 2024. I never wrote one for 2025.
That wasn’t an oversight. It was a reflection of where I was.
What should have been a forward-looking year unraveled quickly. Early in 2024, shortly after publishing my “looking ahead” post, I received news that changed everything: my mom had been diagnosed with colon cancer. Any cycling plans I had were immediately put on hold. What followed was a year defined by repeated trips to Lima, watching her health deteriorate, and eventually saying goodbye.
Barranco, Lima — late January 2024. One of the first trips back to spend time with my mom. Shot on film.
As I was still trying to process that loss, my own health — something I had been quietly managing for years — began to decline rapidly. Then my dad’s health failed, and he passed as well. By that point, cycling, planning, and projecting into the future had all taken a back seat to simply getting through each day.
All of it made 2025 a year of endurance. Intentions took a back seat.
That doesn’t mean I wasn’t writing — I just wasn’t writing here. Much of that time went into a different kind of journaling, trying to make sense of illness, loss, and a series of decisions that ultimately led to major surgery in May of 2025. That writing evolved into a Substack where I’ve been chronicling my journey with Ulcerative Colitis, surgery, and recovery, and it’s become the foundation for a short book I plan to release later this year.
BestRidesDC went quiet not because cycling stopped mattering, but because surviving — and dealing with my illness — had to come first.
Now, surgery is behind me.
Recovery is still very much ongoing, but something important has shifted: I’m riding again. Carefully. Intentionally. Without the expectations I once placed on myself. I’m not chasing fitness or distance yet. I’m rebuilding trust — between my body and the bike — and learning what movement looks like in this new chapter.
One of the first real steps in that direction was an overnight out-and-back to Lockhouse 49 along the C&O Canal. It wasn’t ambitious. It wasn’t fast. But it mattered. That ride wasn’t about miles or pace — it was about answering a simple question: Can I still do this?
Return leg from Lockhouse 49.
Heading back after my first overnight since surgery. Nothing to prove. Just moving forward.
The answer, quietly and reassuringly, was yes. That ride became a marker — a reminder that forward motion doesn’t have to be dramatic to be meaningful.
Which brings me to 2026. This isn’t a comeback year. It’s a rebuilding year.
My intentions are modest, deliberate, and grounded in reality. I want to do a few local bikepacking trips close to home once the weather settles. I want to gradually and systematically increase my riding distance. I want to revisit some of the things I couldn’t do in 2025 — not to reclaim them, but to experience them differently.
The focus isn’t on pushing limits. It’s on consistency, curiosity, and staying connected to why I ride in the first place.
More than anything, I want to find — and respect — a new normal.
Winter ride close to home. No big goals. Just showing up.
Cycling has always been a way for me to process the world, create space, and find clarity. That hasn’t changed. What has changed is my relationship with my body and my understanding of what progress looks like.
2026 won’t be measured in big goals checked off a list, but in continuity — showing up, riding thoughtfully, and listening closely. I’m not trying to get back to who I was before. I’m learning how to ride as who I am now.
And that feels like a good place to begin again.
#wsgfabr
