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Co-Founder of the Rasputitsa, Mom, Wife, Parkinson's Disease Patient, Storyteller, and Believer in the Power of Community.

In 2013, we set out to create something different—not just a bike race, but a rebellion against the status quo. A two-wheeled revolution born from frustration, passion, and an aching desire to build what the industry refused to offer. For a decade, we had lived in that world, breathed its rules, and watched its limitations. But we knew cycling could be more. It could be raw. It could be real. It could be human.

From the start, Rasputitsa wasn’t about profit. It wasn’t even about us. It was about the people in our backyard—Orleans County, Vermont. A place where mountains rise with quiet defiance, where poverty clings to the landscape as stubbornly as the seasons, and where cancer, ruthless and indifferent, takes more than its fair share. We pedaled toward something bigger than ourselves, raising money for those fighting battles far steeper than any climb we could put on course.

The years have pulled us in new directions, and the race has evolved. But one thing has remained constant: care. Not as an afterthought, but as the very thread that holds it all together.

Some of my favorite stories are wrapped in that care. We may have built the foundation, but our audience has taken on the construction of something rarely seen in this world.

There is Marijulie, who, unable to ride one year due to injury, didn’t just sit it out. Instead, she stationed herself in the heart of Cyberia—our infamous hike-a-bike section, where spirits crack and resolve crumbles. She stood there, a beacon in the storm, holding a sign that read “Free Hugs” and offering warmth to those who needed it more than they knew.

And then, there are Sue’s Pants.

A local woman, a stranger to us before that day, watched the race unfold in front of her home. Seeing riders—cold, wet, and weary—struggle against the elements, she didn’t hesitate. She welcomed them inside, dried their gloves by her fireplace, and without a second thought, handed them extra pairs of pants so they could sit and warm themselves. A simple act, but the kind that lingers long after the miles have faded.

These moments matter. The whispered stories on a brutal climb, the kindness exchanged between strangers, the unspoken understanding that this race—this experience—is about far more than a finish line.

We did not just build a race. We built a place where care is as much a part of the journey as the ride itself. And that is what will last, long after the final wheel has rolled across the dirt.

Our favorite scenes from Rasputitsa 2024, images from Jenny Goyne.

But now, my heart feels too small, too fragile to carry the weight of the battle my dear friend and co-founder, Anthony Moccia, now faces.

Around the holidays, Anthony was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer—a cruel, relentless force that has spread to his brain and bones. As his friend, I am afraid. Afraid for him. Afraid for his family. But if I am honest, I am also afraid for myself—afraid that he doesn’t truly know the depth of my love, my admiration, my unwavering support.

The last time he faced cancer, we were all caught in the grip of COVID-19. Without choice, I had to keep my distance when every fiber of my being wanted to embrace him. The guilt—irrational though it may be—has lingered ever since. This time, I refuse to let fear or regret steal these precious moments. This time, I will fight harder, stand closer, and love louder, because the thought of a world without Anthony is unbearable. Without him, I am incomplete. Without him, Rasputitsa—the dream we built together—feels like a memory that might fade.

The other night, I woke up at midnight, tears streaming down my face. Unable to sleep, I turned on the television and found myself watching Bohemian Rhapsody, hoping to reconnect with the creative spark I had abandoned while we gave Rasputitsa a sabbatical. As I watched, Queen’s songs began to flood my mind—Keep Yourself Alive, You’re My Best Friend, Bicycle Race, and of course, We Are the Champions.

Then, it hit me: Queen has always been the spirit of Rasputitsa—the theme we aspired to but never quite achieved. It’s Anthony’s favorite band, and yet, the competing demands of running a race never allowed us to fully bring that vision to life. But that night, in the glow of the screen, I made a promise to myself. I will make this happen. Not just for Rasputitsa. Not just for me. But for Anthony. Because he deserves this. Because we deserve this. Because dreams are worth fighting for.

Queen released two iconic albums back-to-back: A Day at the Races and A Night at the Opera. And so, we take inspiration from these masterpieces to create something meaningful in Anthony’s honor.