When you are broken on the inside and left undiagnosed, it is a constant struggle to maintain the veneer of normalcy when you are anything but.

We spent a beach holiday in Kerala playing with bikes and meeting some adorable locals.

Nothing is easy in India, even an elephant safari in search of rhinos.

The clouds finally lifted in Darjeeling and we glimpsed Kanchenjunga rising above the hills. This was enough to get our blood moving to head out on a 5-day trek in the middle of winter to see more of the Himalayas.

Recap of the first cyclocross race of the season!

The last track race of the year ended with the best surprise.

Finally, I was diagnosed with something making me so exhausted that I could barely make it to work, let alone get off the couch.

The lessons of chronic fatigue keep piling up along with the arsenal to fight it.

I've been dealing with chronic fatigue the past two weeks (six weeks if you count the denial), courtesy of a well orchestrated conspiracy by the players in my endocrine system.

Observations of a cold, dreary day and the treasures that await when you leave your door.

For our final cyclocross race of the year, we pulled into the Kelly Creek park and were met with three inches of snow and ice as far as the eye could see.

The past two months had been full gas of singlespeed cyclocross racing plus a few alleycats and drunken weekday rides thrown in for extra merriment. The mind and the body had thrown in the towel in search of rest and recovery.

The Katrina search and rescue phase had ended and we transitioned to working on the environmental disasters left in its wake.

Struggling to remember life outside the destruction.

The Washington Post wrote a much-needed, uplifting editorial about how the Coast Guard was the silver lining of an otherwise dismal response to Katrina.

A window into “the shit is on fire” show.

The sobering reality of what it is like to try and rescue people from the floodwaters of Katrina sinks in.

Forty eight hours ago I finished my last track race of the season. Right now I sit at a table in the small Alexandria, Louisiana, convention center that is home to the U.S. Coast Guard Region 8 command post.

I'm leaving in a few minutes for the airport, heading to the command post in Alexandria, Louisiana, to work on the Hurricane Katrina response.

Recap and photos from my eight-day tour of the San Juan Islands and lower Vancouver Island

It doesn’t happen often enough, but there are times when it seems an angel reaches out to you, and before they disappear, you understand that you are not alone.

Eight years after being humiliated on a climb in the San Juan Islands, I returned with my fixed gear bike, Rosemary, as a new person with something to prove.

Women constantly find themselves in situations where men doubt their abilities. Even in an island paradise like the San Juans. Luckily, my bike spoke up for me.

My girlfriends and I have had quite a few monkey wrenches thrown into our lives this summer. The one thing we can count on is that we are not alone. Perhaps physically we are, but not in life.

When I was younger and lived out east, I would always look towards the setting sun and think how lucky the people were who lived anywhere farther west than me.

Rosemary made yet another addition to her fan club today.

Life is a unending series of oscillating waves and I was in the midst of one of the bottom troughs. Experiencing Alaska with my bike on a work trip was one way that I saw myself arcing to the crest of the next wave.