I built my identity in cycling as an unapologetically plus-size endurance rider. For many years, I’ve advocated for larger riders, emphasizing the need for better-fitting cycling gear, improved transparency around weight limits, and inclusive cycling communities. My journey, interestingly, was featured in a 2021 documentary by Shimano titled All Bodies on Bikes, which resulted in the establishment of a nonprofit dedicated to size inclusion— an initiative I now lead as Executive Director.
I’ve never let my weight stop me. While I’ve completed five Unbound Gravel races at over 250 pounds, I have to recognize that my weight has posed some challenges. For instance, needing a seatbelt extender on flights and dealing with persistent knee pain are reminders that, well, life as a bigger-bodied athlete isn’t always easy.
After an unsuccessful knee surgery in 2023 left me with chronic pain, my orthopedic surgeon suggested that losing weight could help. However, I’ve tried nearly every diet out there—counting calories, low carbs, Weight Watchers—and none led to long-term success. Instead, I’ve embraced an active lifestyle and grown to appreciate my body as it is. I really didn’t want to chase weight loss again, particularly just to affect a number on a scale.
My doctor pointed out the toll my weight could take on my joints and suspected there might be an underlying issue contributing to my body size. As a result, I was referred to an endocrinologist.
This referral started my experience with GLP-1 receptor agonists, medications created for Type 2 diabetes but increasingly used for weight management. Initially, I was quite hesitant. These medications, like Ozempic and Wegovy, have stirred much debate around body image and health pursuits. Yet, for me, it wasn’t about striving for a thinner frame. It was about relieving pain and ensuring I could continue biking for years to come.
Ultimately, I discovered that I had insulin-resistant PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome). This hormonal disorder can affect up to 1 in 10 individuals with ovaries but is often overlooked. One of its significant effects is how it can disrupt metabolism and weight, making it easier to gain weight and harder to shed it, even when following a balanced diet and exercise routine.
As a public figure promoting weight-neutral cycling spaces, I found taking a GLP-1 challenging. If my body started to change because of this medication, would I be compromising my values? Would my actions contradict the message I share with the All Bodies on Bikes community? It posed such questions about body acceptance while possibly leading to my own weight loss.
Moreover, I wondered how this would affect my performance on the bike.
The side effects of GLP-1s are widely discussed: nausea, tiredness, and delayed stomach emptying, among others. Fortunately, I only experienced mild nausea and constipation. However, the impact on my appetite was profound. I found myself not feeling hungry at all. A banana for breakfast could sustain me until lunch, where even half a peanut butter sandwich felt too much. It’s crucial to emphasize that this is not adequate for anyone, especially not an endurance athlete.
It quickly became clear that the appetite suppression was too effective, especially as I trained and rode throughout this experience. Listening to my body, which I had done closely for years, now felt more challenging. I wasn’t hungry at all, which is counterproductive for someone who needs energy to perform well.
Instead of intuitively feeding myself, I had to schedule reminders to eat and plan meals for optimal nutrition. Thankfully, my Wahoo Bolt bike computer sends me alerts to eat after every 100 calories burned. While this helped avoid bonking on rides, it wasn’t perfect. I also discovered that liquid calories and frequent protein-packed snacks were essential for proper fueling.
Over time, I noticed subtle changes in my body and cycling performance. My clothes felt looser; I could see my collarbone for the first time. Chronic joint pain diminished, and my periods became regular. Most excitingly, I found I could ascend hills I had previously walked up, and I consistently set personal records in segments I often ride.
My first public event in a noticeably slimmer body was at Mid South 2024, where I had lost about 20% of my initial weight. An acquaintance commented that I looked “faster,” and someone on social media remarked, “You’re getting skinny girl!” While I understand these comments were likely meant to be supportive, they caught me off guard. I’ve always argued against commenting on anyone’s body, regardless of their size. My weight loss wasn’t intentional, and I didn’t want it promoted as such.
Dealing with the social and personal consequences of my visibly changing body felt intense. Society’s treatment of fat individuals is, quite frankly, disheartening. Before, I was mostly overlooked; now, I receive unsolicited compliments, people are kinder, and my health concerns are taken more seriously by doctors.
After a complication with my prescribing physician and insurance, I stopped the medication in May 2025. My last dose was just two weeks before riding 109 miles at Unbound Gravel, where I had to quickly relearn my eating strategies since I suddenly felt very hungry. Unfortunately, my joint pain and inflammation returned, along with my appetite, leading to renewed health struggles.
I’m cautious about sharing this experience as someone in the body-positive movement. Other leaders have received backlash for losing weight—just look at Lizzo. Throughout this process, I’ve only been reaffirmed in my belief that all bodies are valid, all bicycles are valuable, and every cycling experience deserves celebration. Regardless of size, my love for cycling and advocacy remains constant.
Moreover, I believe everyone should pursue what feels right for their happiness, health, and pain-free living. It’s nobody else’s business except yours and your healthcare provider.
One major lesson from this journey is that health isn’t a one-size-fits-all deal, and it certainly isn’t solely about weight. The decisions we make regarding our bodies and well-being are profoundly personal and often quite complex, much more so than they may appear from the outside.
I didn’t take a GLP-1 to fit into a more conventional athletic mold or become thin—in fact, I’m still classified as “obese” by standard measures. I did it to alleviate chronic pain, remain active, and keep riding. My story isn’t a guideline for anyone else; rather, it’s a reminder that we all deserve access to the tools that help us feel good in our bodies, regardless of their appearance.
