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05/06/2025

Some girls find peace in stillness—
I find mine in motion.
On two wheels, with the wind in my hair and dirt on my skin,
I remember who I am.

I ride not to escape life,
but to meet it face-to-face.
To feel every heartbeat echo through the forest,
every climb challenge my limits,
every descent remind me to let go.

I don’t need to be delicate.
I’ve learned to be powerful with softness,
fierce with feeling,
and free without apology.

Yes, I dream of love—
but not the kind that cages me.
I dream of someone who understands the language of silence between trees,
who respects the storms I’ve ridden through,
and who doesn’t flinch when I ride ahead to breathe.

I don’t want to be tamed.
I want to be met.
By someone who doesn’t mind muddy shoes or tangled hair,
who’s not afraid of my independence,
and who shows up without asking me to shrink.

Because I’m not looking to be someone’s peace—
I am my own.
But I believe love can be an echo—
a steady presence beside me,
not loud, not perfect—just real.

Until then, I’ll keep riding.
One trail at a time.
One truth at a time.
Becoming more myself with every mile.
Not chasing anything—
but open, always,
to a heart strong enough to ride beside mine.

05/06/2025

Out here, I don’t wear a mask.
The wind doesn’t ask me to smile.
The trail doesn’t care how I look.
It just asks for truth—
in every breath, every burn in my legs, every drop of sweat I leave behind.

I ride because this is where I come home to myself.
Away from noise, from judgment, from the world that keeps asking me to be smaller, softer, quieter.
On my bike, I am all of me—
bold, bruised, free.

Yes, I want love.
But not the kind that demands perfection.
I want the kind that sees the mud on my shins and the sunburn on my face
and says, “You’re beautiful like this.”
The kind that doesn’t fear my independence,
but stands beside it, with pride.

I don’t want someone to follow me.
Or lead me.
Just ride with me—side by side,
mile after mile, in rhythm with my heart.

I’ve built a life that doesn’t need rescuing.
But if someone wants to join this journey—
the climbs, the falls, the views, the storms—
they’ll find me here, open-hearted,
not waiting… just ready.

Because love, to me, is not a finish line.
It’s the choice to keep riding together,
even when the path is rough,
even when words are few,
but the connection is loud.

So I ride.
Not to chase love,
but to become the kind of woman who’s never afraid to meet it—
wild, honest, and fully herself.

05/06/2025

I ride to remember who I am when the world tries to make me forget.
Out here, no one’s watching.
No expectations.
Just the wind against my face and the steady rhythm of my breath.
And in that space… I feel free.

My strength isn’t in how far I go or how fast—
it’s in how I keep showing up, even when it’s hard.
Even when I’m tired.
Even when the path feels endless.

I’m not riding away from love.
I’m riding toward the kind that understands me.
Not the fantasy, not the filtered version,
but me—muddy shoes, tangled hair, quiet eyes, and an untamed heart.

I want a connection that feels like a trail after rain—
fresh, grounding, unpredictable, real.
Someone who doesn’t mind when I fall silent mid-ride,
who respects my pace and my passion.
Who sees the fire in me and chooses to stay close enough to feel its warmth,
without trying to control it.

I don’t want perfect.
I want honest.
I want effort.
I want a presence that doesn’t fade when the ride gets rough.

So no, I’m not waiting.
I’m riding, growing, becoming.
And if love finds me out here—on a trail most never travel—
I’ll welcome it.
Not because I need it,
but because it chose to meet me where I truly live.

05/06/2025

There’s a part of me that only the trail understands.
The version of me that breathes deeper when surrounded by trees,
smiles harder when the path gets steep,
and trusts the silence between every turn of the wheels.

I’ve never needed a spotlight.
I’ve only needed space—
to be, to ride, to grow.
Because out here, I don’t chase love.
I live it.
In the way I show up for myself.
In the way I keep going when it gets hard.
In the way I carry both softness and fire—without apology.

I don’t want a love that interrupts my rhythm.
I want one that matches it.
Someone who knows that I’m not riding away—
I’m riding toward something real.

Not perfection.
Not fantasy.
But partnership.
Someone who understands that I’ll always need the trail,
but who also knows that there’s space for them beside me.

I ride with an open heart, not an empty one.
I’ve filled it with every sunrise I’ve seen through the trees,
every climb that made me stronger,
every fall that didn’t break me.

And if love wants to meet me here—
in the middle of nowhere, where I feel most like myself—
I’ll be ready.
Not waiting.
Just wide open.

Until then, I’ll keep riding.
Because this girl?
She’s already whole.
And anyone who rides with her
will have to know how to love a soul that moves freely
but feels deeply.

05/06/2025

I don’t ride to escape.
I ride to return—
to myself,
to the quiet places where I don’t have to explain who I am,
to the freedom that reminds me I was never meant to be tamed.

Out here, I’m not afraid of the unknown.
The twists, the turns, the steep climbs—
they mirror my life.
And every time I push forward, I remember:
I’ve made it through things far harder than this.

I ride with fire in my legs and softness in my soul.
I ride with stories I don’t always tell—
about love, about loss, about the courage it takes to stay open.
Because yes, I believe in love.
Not the loud kind.
But the quiet, steady, soul-deep kind.
The kind that doesn’t fear my strength,
and doesn’t ask me to slow down just to stay close.

I don’t need to be chased.
I just need to be met.
Right here, in the wild,
where I am most myself—unfiltered, untamed, alive.

So no, I’m not waiting for someone to find me.
I’m too busy becoming.
And if love rides my way,
I’ll make space for it beside me—
not in front of me, not behind.
Beside.

But until then, I ride.
Through dust and dusk,
through ache and awe,
with a heart wide open and a soul that knows:
the best kind of love never asks you to stop being who you are to be loved.

05/04/2025

I am not defined by smooth roads or easy rides.
I am shaped by the climbs that made my legs ache,
by the falls that left scrapes I wore like medals,
by the silence I found between trees where no one applauded,
but I still showed up.

I ride because it makes me honest.
Out here, there’s no pretending.
It’s just me, my breath, my heartbeat,
and the dirt that knows my name better than most people ever will.

I’m not the kind of girl who needs saving.
I save myself—one pedal stroke at a time.
But I crave a love that’s real—
someone who rides beside me without fear of my pace or my solitude.

Don’t bring me roses.
Bring me presence.
Show up when the trail is steep and I’m quiet.
Love me in motion, not just when I’m soft.
Hold space for my strength—don’t try to soften it.

I don’t ask for forever.
I ask for real.
For effort. For respect.
For someone who sees the story behind the scars
and still reaches for my hand without hesitation.

Because I am not just a girl who rides—
I am a storm with grace,
a compass with her own direction,
and a heart that loves in wild, unbreakable ways.

05/04/2025

I don’t ride to prove anything.
I ride because when I’m on that trail, something inside me quiets.
The world fades. The noise disappears.
And I’m left with the purest version of myself—raw, wild, and completely unfiltered.

There’s a kind of love in the way I move through the mountains.
A love for freedom.
For challenge.
For the solitude that doesn’t feel lonely, but healing.

Most won’t understand it.
They’ll see the dirt, the sweat, the bruises—
but they won’t see the strength it takes to show up,
even when I’m tired, even when life feels heavy.

But maybe there’s someone out there who will.
Someone who won’t be intimidated by the fire in my soul.
Someone who doesn’t need me to be “less” to be lovable.
Someone who can ride beside me—not to lead, not to follow—
but to witness the world through the same lens of grit and grace.

I don’t need rescuing.
I don’t need fixing.
I need connection—real, raw, and rooted.
Someone who sees me—mud, muscles, moods and all—
and still says, “I’m here.”

Because love, for me, isn’t about standing still.
It’s about growing, falling, rising—together.
It’s about choosing each other not just when it’s easy,
but especially when the trail gets rough.

So until that kind of love finds me,
you’ll find me here—
riding with my heart wide open,
and a soul that’s already whole.

05/04/2025

They say the trail reveals who you really are.
And out here, where it’s just me, my breath, the trees, and the climb—
I meet the version of myself I love the most.
The one who doesn’t shrink.
The one who’s not afraid to be seen, even when she’s covered in sweat and dust.
The one who chooses courage over comfort, every single time.

This isn’t just about the ride.
It’s about the rhythm I find in the chaos.
The stillness I discover in motion.
And the freedom that fills me every time the tires touch earth and I let go of everything I don’t need to carry anymore.

I’ve stopped waiting for someone to catch up.
I don’t need someone to lead me either.
But if someone shows up—
with honesty in their eyes,
with a calm heart and wild soul,
who can match my pace without trying to control it—
I’ll ride beside them through anything.

Because love, for me, isn’t a finish line.
It’s the ride.
It’s how we show up when the trail turns steep.
It’s who we become together when it rains, when it hurts, when we’re tired but still choose each other.

Until then, I ride alone—
not lonely, but whole.
Not searching, but open.
Because I’m not the kind of girl who waits to be loved.
I’m the kind who loves herself first,
and trusts that the right heart will ride into her world—
not to complete her,
but to ride beside her, mile after mile.

05/04/2025

Every time I ride, I shed a version of me that wasn’t real.
The one that played small, stayed quiet, waited to be seen.
On the trail, I’m not that girl.
I’m bold.
Unapologetic.
Alive.

With each pedal stroke, I reclaim myself—
not for anyone else,
but for the girl inside me who always knew her power.

People talk about love like it’s something that happens when you're still.
But for me, love is motion.
It’s someone who meets me mid-ride,
not to slow me down,
but to match my momentum.

I don’t want grand speeches.
I want presence.
Someone who sees the dirt on my skin and calls it beautiful.
Someone who understands that my silence on the trail is not distance—
it’s depth.

Because I’m not here to be rescued.
I’m not waiting to be chosen.
I am the choice—
for someone who values freedom, wildness, and truth over comfort.

I’m the kind of woman who will ride through storms,
smile through the struggle,
and still make space for love—
but only the kind that rides with me, not against me.

Until then,
I’ll keep riding with open eyes, strong legs,
and a heart that knows exactly where it's going.

05/04/2025

There’s a different kind of peace I find when I ride.
It’s not quiet, not always easy—
but it’s real.
Every turn, every climb, every fall strips away the noise of the world,
and brings me closer to the girl I’m proud to be.

People often ask what I’m chasing.
But I’m not chasing anything.
I ride to remember.
To remember that I’m strong. That I’m enough.
That I can carry pain and still feel joy,
that I can be fierce and still crave tenderness.

I’m not waiting for love to rescue me.
I’ve rescued myself too many times to believe in that story.
But I do believe in love that meets me halfway.
In someone who doesn’t ask me to slow down,
but learns to ride my rhythm.
In someone who finds beauty in my grit,
who’s not afraid of my silence,
and doesn’t need to fix my fire—just stand close enough to feel it.

I’m not hard to love.
I’m just not easy to fool.
I don’t need perfect.
I need present.
Someone who chooses me on the muddy days and the mountain highs.

Until that kind of love finds me—
you’ll find me here:
hands on my handlebars, wind kissing my skin,
and a quiet smile on my face…
not because I have everything figured out,
but because I know exactly who I am
when I ride.

And honestly,
that’s where love will recognize me—
not in stillness,
but in motion.

05/03/2025

Good morning 🌞

05/03/2025

I don’t ride to escape—
I ride to remember.
To remember the strength in my legs,
the rhythm in my breath,
and the fire in my spirit that no one gave me—
because I built it myself.

Out here, I don’t have to smile for anyone.
Don’t have to be soft if I’m not feeling it.
I’m allowed to be wild, fierce, quiet, or loud—
and every version of me is enough.

I’m not the girl who asks to be chosen.
I choose myself first.
Every damn time.
But if someone can meet me where I am—
on the steep climbs,
in the stillness of the forest,
in the messy, unfiltered spaces I rarely show—
then maybe they’re meant to ride with me.

Love, for me, isn’t about grand gestures.
It’s about showing up.
Riding beside me even when the trail gets rough.
Listening, not fixing.
Seeing me—not just the strong girl with the bike,
but the woman with dreams, scars, and a heart that still believes.

I don’t need a finish line.
I need a partner in the ride.
Someone who doesn’t tame my freedom—
but honors it.

Until then,
you’ll find me in motion—
falling in love with the ride… and with myself.

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Tax Crossroads, GA
09807

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+918756759769

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