How 2023 Stopped us going to South America
As I sit here now, grappling with the aftermath of several torn discs, I can’t help but wonder if I should have pushed through the chronic fatigue that followed my battle with COVID. It’s a question that lingers in my mind more often than I care to admit.
2023 was, without a doubt, a year full of highs and lows. We started with a loss that will forever echo in my heart: losing my mum in January. It was a blow that shaped the entire year, and yet, somehow, we tried to keep moving forward. June came, and we embarked on the Cairns to Kurumba ride, a challenge we had planned as a prep for something bigger—the Andes. We’d been talking about it for months, calling it “the Andes” whenever we discussed our adventure with friends, or anyone else who shared a passion for cycling.
This trip was supposed to be our honeymoon, too. With the wedding preparations in full swing, we thought the timing would be perfect. We’d tack on a few extra days, explore more of South America, and see the sights while we were there. But, of course, the logistics of it all turned out to be a bit of a nightmare—something I’ll get into later.
During the Cairns to Kurumba ride, things didn’t go entirely to plan. I had a decent fall during that ride. It wasn’t my first fall, and it wouldn’t be my last. During a training ride leading up to doing the Cairns to Kurumba a pothole took me out, leaving me with cracked ribs and throwing my training schedule out. I’m still so grateful to Cody and Jason, who were there to help me when I needed it most that morning.
I pressed on and finished the ride. Then, two days before the big day, both Marc and I came down with Influenza A. We ended up in bed, barely able to move, with only a couple of days left to pull off a wedding. I spent one night in the hospital, trying to get back on my feet, but I honestly thought we might actually die. The amazing staff at Rydges, where we held our ceremony and reception, were nothing short of angels. They took such good care of us, delivering chicken soup and checking in on us to help us get through. Somehow, we made it through, and the wedding was beautiful—though I can’t say we were quite as lively as we’d imagined.
After the wedding, we spent a week recovering on Green Island, which was exactly what we needed. But even after we were back, the fatigue lingered. We slowly got back on the bikes, and all we could think about was January 2024.
By October 2023, I had wrapped up the last of the traveling away work commitments and were preparing for an intensive training block leading up to the Andes. But, as life tends to do, it threw us another curveball. Just after that event, I started feeling a little off, it felt like an anvil had dropped on me. A quick rat test confirmed it: positive for COVID. Seven days later, I was technically clear of the virus, but the toll it took on my body was far from over. The fatigue—chronic, lingering, heavy—was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
Having dealt with Epstein-Barr virus in the past, I knew the drill. The toll it takes on your body isn’t something you can push through. I ended up working just a handful of hours and spent most of my time from October to March in a fog, constantly battling the exhaustion. It was disheartening, especially since the Andes trip had been on the horizon for so long.
And just like that, we had no choice but to postpone. The plans we’d worked so hard to build, the dream of crossing the Andes, all had to wait. The body has its own timeline, one that sometimes doesn’t sync up with the plans we’ve made.
So here I am, reflecting on the road that brought us here—a road full of bumps, falls, setbacks, and moments of sheer exhaustion. The lesson, if there is one, is that you can only push so hard before the body demands its due. The Andes had to wait. I am learning to listen to my body—to rest when I need it and to take the time to heal. Life has a way of throwing curveballs, but there’s always another day to get back up.
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