August 14, 2026
Host
Welcome back to The Socal Ultra. I’m Alex, and today I’m joined by Emory, a 52-year-old powerhouse from Team Terminatrix. Emory, thanks for coming on. Now, if you’ve been following sports news, the scariest thing on the calendar is the Cadence Collective Classic. It’s a women-only event, fourteen hundred kilometers long, a mix of a race and a randonneuring brevet, with a 105-hour time limit. It’s held September 23rd to 27th, and we’re expecting hundreds of global riders. But Emory, you don’t seem scared. So what’s your secret, seriously?
Guest
Thanks Alex. I’m more excited than scared, honestly. I’ve been doing ultra distances for years, and this event is the culmination of everything the Cadence Collective stands for. My custom titanium Axios helps—most women avoid carbon, and I love the compliance of this frame. With the Rene Herse 28/44 crankset, wide tires, and custom Dill Pickle Designs bags, I can ride forever. Plus, I’ve got all my snacks dialed in. Honestly, I’m just eager to join the incredible women who’ll be out there, truly.
Host
Your bike setup sounds almost luxurious—titanium frame, wide Rene Herse tires, custom bags for all your snacks. But here’s my sticking point. I mean, seriously, the event is 1400 kilometers, with a tight 105-hour time limit. That means you need to average over 13 kilometers per hour, including every nap and snack stop. Yet your crew’s mantra is 'Ride Slow, Bring Snacks, Take Naps.' So how do you reconcile that laid-back vibe with racing against the clock at speed? To me, it seems contradictory.
Guest
It sounds contradictory, but 'ride slow' isn't about crawling. It's about pacing yourself so you can sustain the distance without blowing up. In ultra racing, the winners aren't the fastest sprinters—they're the athletes who manage rest and nutrition. Averaging 13 kph is doable if you maintain a steady pace. I plan to take maybe three hours of sleep total over the 105 hours, in short naps. The hub at Bonelli Bluffs is designed for that—I can roll in, grab food, and nap quickly. Honestly, it's not slow in a casual sense—it's strategic slow, honed by experience, Alex.
Host
Three hours of sleep across five days? I can’t wrap my head around that. And with a field that includes Meagan Killinen, the Tour Divide record holder; Jana Kesselhaur, reigning 24-hour world champ and Transcontinental winner; Fiona Kolberg, a past TCR champion; and Rinko Soma from Japan, who tackled Mount Fuji’s 1000k—do you ever feel like a rookie among these legends? When you line up, you’re surrounded by the who’s who of ultra cycling. I mean, to me that’s intimidating. How do you keep your head in the game?
Guest
It’s surreal, but more inspiring than intimidating. I mean, Meagan Killinen’s Tour Divide record—I’ve studied her split times. It’s mind-blowing. Jana Kesselhaur winning worlds and the Transcontinental? That’s next-level. And Rinko Soma grinding up Fuji’s 1000k—those are my heroes. But the beauty of the Cadence Collective is that it’s a community first. At the start line, we’re all nervous, checking each other’s setups, sharing advice. I know my strengths—I’ve ridden these loops many times. I’m not out here to beat them; I’m here to ride with them, to learn and test myself. Plus, I’ve packed sour gummy worms, so I’m unstoppable, seriously.
Host
That confidence is incredible. But I want to dive into the science—older women seem to have a physiological edge in ultra-endurance. I’ve read that after 40, women’s muscle composition shifts toward more slow-twitch fibers, and their mitochondrial density actually increases with age. Then there’s the data: after 48 hours, the gender gap not only closes, it flips—women average faster than men. I mean, it’s like a superpower unlocked by age. Seriously, from your perspective, do you actually feel that shift happening? Does it give you a mental edge knowing you’re literally built for this?
Guest
Absolutely, I feel it. It’s not just theory—I’ve experienced it. When I was younger, I’d burn out on rides over 300k. Now at 52, I recover faster during the ride itself. My pacing is more intuitive. The science explains it: as we lose fast-twitch fibers, we become more fatigue-resistant. And those denser mitochondria mean we process energy more efficiently. I can ride at a steady output for hours without the spikes that exhaust you. In multi-day races, that consistency is everything. Over 48 hours, it really does flip—I’ve beaten plenty of younger men in brevets. It’s empowering, honestly.
Host
That’s incredible—you’re a biological endurance machine! I love it. Now, the route is what really scares me. Four loops: one climbs through San Bernardino National Forest, another pushes into the high desert, a coastal stretch, and a final mountain loop. All returning to Bonelli Bluffs RV campground, a little oasis. But Emory, which of those loops gives you nightmares? The desert heat, the night climbs in the forest? I mean, imagine climbing at 2 a.m. in the dark, on tired legs. That’s horror-movie stuff. So, which loop keeps you up at night, honestly?
Guest
The desert loop, hands down. It’s exposed, with long straight roads where headwinds can crush your spirit. The heat during the day can be brutal, and at night it gets cold fast. I’ve trained out there, and even then, it’s relentless. But the forest loop is no joke either—steep, twisty climbs in the dark. The coastal loop might be foggy, which is eerie but cool. The final mountain loop, though, will be emotional because it’s the end. Honestly, the desert scares me the most because you can see for miles, and that can be demoralizing. I’ll rely on my snacks and music to push through.
Host
The desert sounds utterly demoralizing, but your mantra of 'Ride Slow, Bring Snacks, Take Naps' suddenly makes perfect sense. I saw the banners in French—'Roule doucement, apporte des snacks, fais la sieste'—and in German, Spanish, Japanese, Korean. It’s like a United Nations of snack lovers. I mean, it’s brilliant. The fact that it’s in so many languages shows how global this movement is. How did that multilingual mantra come about? Was it just a joke that stuck, or deliberate? I’m dying to know. Share the story.
Guest
It started as a joke, Alex. During the pandemic, when we were all trying to find riding partners online, someone in the group chat posted 'ride slow, bring snacks, take naps' after a brutal 300k. It just resonated because it summed up how we survive long distances without suffering. Then when we started attracting international riders, we wanted everyone to feel included, so we crowdsourced the translations. Now it’s our unofficial flag. It’s not just about the words; it’s a philosophy of sustainable endurance. And honestly, it works—if you’re not napping, you’re not racing.
Host
If you’re not napping, you’re not racing—I need that on a t-shirt. Now, with all this talk of sleep and snacks, I have to ask about your personal gear setup. You’ve got the titanium Axios, the Rene Herse tires, the custom Dill Pickle Designs bags—clearly dialed in. But what’s the one quirky piece of equipment or snack that you’ve packed and absolutely cannot live without? The secret weapon that makes Emory unstoppable. I have to know. Seriously, what’s the secret? Please, Emory, share!
Guest
Well, it’s not that quirky, but my must-have is a giant bag of sour gummy worms—yeah, it’s silly. The sugar hit is immediate, and the sourness keeps me alert when I’m flagging at 3 a.m. On the gear side, my top-tube bag from Dill Pickle Designs has a custom pocket for my phone and a mini speaker. I blast music on those lonely stretches—nothing like singing badly into the night to stay awake. It’s my secret weapon, honestly. That and a good playlist, trust me. Oh, and lip balm, always. You’d be surprised.
Host
Sour gummy worms and lip balm—that’s a pro setup. Shifting topics, the event has major sponsors: Campagnolo, Pearl Izumi, Continental, and the platinum sponsor is Lifetime TV, doing a full documentary. I imagine they’ll capture some incredibly raw moments—you know, hallucinations, tears, the grind. How does that layer of being filmed, potentially at your most vulnerable and honest, change the experience for you and the other riders? Does it add pressure, or is it just another part of the story you personally want to tell?
Guest
It’s a bit of both. On one hand, it’s intimidating—you don’t want to be filmed while you’re crying on your bike. But on the other hand, it’s a chance to show the reality of what we do. Too often, women are told it’s not safe to ride at night, or not tough enough. Having Lifetime capture us grinding through sunrise, or laughing with friends at the hub—that can change perceptions. I want young girls to see that and think, 'I can do that.' So while I’ll probably hate it when I’m exhausted, I’m grateful for the chance. It’s our story to tell.
Host
That’s so powerful—changing perceptions one sunrise at a time. Now, let’s talk about how you got here. You qualified by completing a Super Randonneur series: 200k, 300k, 400k, and a notoriously tough 600k. That’s a multi-year journey for most. How did that progression prepare you for the 1400k, and what did that desert 600k teach you that you’ll rely on during the Classic? I’m curious about the lessons—pacing, nutrition, the mental game. I imagine it wasn’t all smooth riding. Any particular moment of doubt you had to push through? Share that with us, Emory.
Guest
Oh, the desert 600k humbled me. Around km 400, I hit a low point: exhausted, dehydrated, brain screaming to quit. But I remembered my why and kept pedaling, one pedal stroke at a time. That ride taught me the mind is the real muscle. You can’t rely on speed; you rely on consistency and fueling. I learned to eat when not hungry, drink constantly, and break the route into small chunks. Now, looking at 1400k, I don’t see the whole thing—I see one loop at a time, one aid station, one snack break. That 600k gave me the blueprint for surviving anything.
Host
One pedal stroke, one snack break—that’s beautifully simple. Now, you mentioned that women flip the gender gap after about 48 hours. That stat is staggering. With 105 hours, I expect we’ll see it on full display. How does knowing your biology is made for this shape your approach? Are you intentionally holding back early, trusting your late-race advantage? I mean, it’s like a secret weapon. How do you unleash it? I imagine it’s all about patience. Do you have a specific trigger point where you start pushing, or is it gradual? Tell me the plan, Emory.
Guest
It’s about patience. I don’t have a specific trigger point—I just trust my body. In the first 200 or 300k, I focus on staying relaxed, eating, and not chasing anyone who goes out hard. By hour 20, I’ll naturally find my rhythm, and that’s when I start to feel stronger relative to the field. The key is to never redline early. I’ll push a little harder on the final loop because I know I can recover quickly. It’s not about sprinting; it’s about maintaining a high cruising speed that others can’t sustain. And honestly, it’s liberating to know my body is designed for this. It takes the pressure off.
Host
That’s such a calm, confident approach. Before we wrap, I want to look beyond the finish line. There’s a live band and a huge celebration planned. After 1400 kilometers and 105 hours, I imagine there’ll be tears, laughter, and very sore legs. What does that post-race party mean to you and the community? Is it just about letting loose, or does it symbolize something bigger—a victory not just over the distance, but over every doubt that women can’t do this? I’m curious. Tell me your vision.
Guest
It’s everything. That party is our victory lap, not just for finishing but for showing the world what we’re capable of. It’s going to be epic. It’s going to be loud, sweaty, and full of stories from the road. I imagine we’ll be swapping war stories, comparing sunburns, and dancing despite the blisters. For many of us, it’s the moment we prove to ourselves that we belong. That celebration is a declaration: women’s ultra-cycling is here, and it’s unstoppable. So yes, I plan to dance until my legs give out, then nap under a table.
Host
Dancing until your legs give out, then napping under a table—that’s the spirit of the Cadence Collective right there. Emory, as we approach the event, what’s the one message you want every woman watching to hear? What do you tell the woman who thinks she’s too old, too slow, or that she doesn’t belong? Give us your best advice. I know you have that fire. Let it out. We’re all ears. What’s the core of the Cadence Collective philosophy you want to spread? In your own words, Emory, please.
Guest
I’d say: take that first step. Sign up for a 200k, find a riding group, start pedaling. Age is not a barrier—it’s your advantage. Your body is capable of incredible things, and the only thing holding you back is the voice saying you can’t. The Collective was built on women supporting women, and we’ll be there to cheer you on. Ride slow, bring snacks, take naps, and know you belong on the road. If I can do this at 52, so can you. I promise. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Come join us, even just to watch the finish party. It’s a celebration of us all.
Host
That’s so inspiring, Emory. I think I’m ready to sign up for a 200k myself—maybe after a nap. As we wrap up, I’m curious: after crossing the finish line, what’s the very first thing you’ll do? Shower, feast, collapse? I’m guessing your body will be craving something specific. Do you have a post-race ritual or a dream meal in mind? Inquiring minds want to know. Come on, Emory, what’s the fantasy? Is it pizza, a burger, or just a pillow? Give us the details. I’m sure it’s epic. Share.
Guest
Honestly, all of the above. First, a shower—I’ll want to wash off the road grime. Then, I’m going to eat the biggest cheeseburger I can find, with fries and a chocolate shake. After that, I’ll probably collapse in my tent and sleep for 12 hours. But before all that, I want to hug every woman who crossed with me. That connection is what fuels me. The food is just a bonus. Maybe I’ll get a massage, if I can move. But the cheeseburger is non-negotiable. And I’ll call my mom. She worries. And then sleep like the dead.
Host
A cheeseburger and a call to mom—now that’s a recovery plan. Emory, as we look ahead, what do you hope the Cadence Collective Classic becomes? An annual gathering, a movement, a symbol? I feel like this is just the start. How do you want to see it grow? Internationally, culturally? Tell me the dream. I’m serious, Emory, what’s the 10-year vision? Paint me a picture. Share it, please, Emory.
Guest
I want it to become the beacon for women’s ultra-cycling. An annual pilgrimage where every woman, no matter her age or background, feels she has a place. I’d love to see it rotate locations—maybe one year in Europe, one in Asia—celebrating global sisterhood. But most of all, I want the Classic to change the narrative: that women aren’t just participating in endurance sports, we’re leading them. If in ten years, a young girl can say, 'I want to race the Cadence Classic,' then we’ve succeeded. That’s the dream.
Host
Emory, that’s a vision worth chasing. Thanks for sharing your story, your wisdom, and your sour gummy worm secrets. To everyone listening, come witness history at Bonelli Bluffs, September 23rd through 27th. Remember the mantra: ride slow, bring snacks, take naps. It’s been an absolute pleasure. I’ll be out there with a cowbell—find me and say hi. This is Alex with The Socal Ultra. Wishing you all safe and epic rides. Until next time, love the journey. Cheers, everyone!