When I first met Roxanne, I’ll admit—she wasn’t what I had imagined. At that point in my life, everything revolved around cycling. My schedule was packed with races, training camps, travel, and constant pressure to perform. I wasn’t looking for anything outside of that world. I had my focus locked on my goals, and distractions weren’t part of the plan. But Roxanne… she was different. She had this spark that immediately stood out — confident, full of life, and completely unafraid to speak her mind. She didn’t care about results, podiums, or titles. She cared about me — the person behind the rider. And that was something I hadn’t realized I needed.
At first, I didn’t know what to make of her energy. She challenged me in ways I wasn’t used to. I was so accustomed to structure and discipline, but she brought spontaneity into my world. She made me laugh when my head was buried in training plans and reminded me that there was life beyond the bike. Slowly, without even realizing it, she became the balance I never knew I was missing.
Roxanne saw through the public image and the chaos of competition. She didn’t see the world champion or the cyclist constantly in the headlines — she saw the person who sometimes doubted himself, who missed family moments, who struggled with the weight of expectations. And she never tried to fix me; she just stood beside me. That quiet strength of hers became something I leaned on, especially during tough seasons when things didn’t go as planned.
We spent long evenings talking about everything and nothing — about life, family, and what it means to stay true to yourself. She listened when I needed to vent after a bad race and celebrated the victories not because of what they meant to the sport, but because she knew how much effort went into each one. That’s what makes her special — she values the human side of success, not just the glory.
Over time, Roxanne taught me the importance of slowing down, of appreciating the small moments in between the chaos. She reminded me that passion doesn’t have to consume you entirely; it can coexist with love, laughter, and a life beyond competition. And that realization changed me. It made me a better athlete — and a better person.
Looking back, I realize that meeting Roxanne wasn’t just chance. It was the moment everything shifted. She grounded me, reminded me of what truly matters, and helped me see that there’s more to life than finish lines and medals. Cycling will always be my passion, but Roxanne showed me that love — real love — gives everything else meaning.
So when I say she wasn’t what I had imagined, I mean that in the best way possible. She was more. More than I expected, more than I thought I needed — and more than I ever could have dreamed of finding in a world that rarely slows down long enough to let something so real take root.
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