Last year, my husband Trevan announced that Layne Gneiting (cycling trek coach for his last 5 international rides) was creating an "alumni" event for anyone who had been on a trek with him before, and their "plus one". Trevan invited me to consider joining him in Norway, June 2025.

I've never seen myself as one who would do such a thing. I've been glad that Trevan has his occasional trek, because he always comes home so happy. Germany, Budapest, France, Morocco, Austria... so many adventures. He's always been more athletically inclined than me, and I've been fine with that. In high school I focused on music and academics, he focused on music and athletics. In fact, he ranked #3 in the state for long distance running and went to college on a track scholarship.

So, to be invited to join him on a cycling trek, I felt a tremendous amount of trepidation and barely even considered it. This is a guy who has cycled India coast to coast, even completing the ride after crashing and breaking ribs halfway through. I'm not a cyclist! 

But I let the idea simmer and reluctantly accepted the invitation. It takes about 6 months to train properly for such a ride. We would be riding 8 days, covering up to 400 miles with over 10,000 feet in elevation gain. I started the training... get on the bike every day, even if it's just to go to the end of the block and back. Get used to the saddle. I did pretty good up until Christmas, but lost interest and instead preferred to spend my time on work and preparing our home for my parents moving in.

With only a few months left to prepare, I started riding farther when I occasionally did ride. I started using the Peloton to see if I could do two days of 50 miles, back to back. I was not engaged in the group chat because all of the unread messages overwhelmed me. I was bracing myself to survive this trip at best.

As the date grew closer, I started to panic.

April 1, 2025

Me: Hey Layne! I have some concerns about Norway - wondered if I voice them to you, maybe you can help me think straight about it. Is it ok if I express it in text?

Layne: Sure. Would you prefer to hop on a call?

Me: Not right now, I'm sick and when I try to talk it can start a bad coughing spell.

Layne: Got it. Well heal up, Leslie! I am done cycling, so though I am in Argentina I could field a call if you’d prefer that. Otherwise text works great. I’m eager to hear your concerns.

Me: Thanks. Getting my parents and our house ready for them to move in with us has been a whirlwind ... Despite that, and knowing I was behind on training, I kicked into gear last month and decided I would push myself to meet the monthly goals in more than half the time. But then I had to travel for a week and was not able to add cycling at a gym. I must have caught something on the trip that landed me on my can, going on 2 weeks now. I've had two scary can't-breathe spells. Doctor put me on an antibiotic and a steroid yesterday so I'm hopeful I'll turn a corner soon. But I'm looking at the trek route, elevations, and miles per day, and losing confidence that I'll be capable of doing it. My average speed when I was well was only 8-9 mph. I am on a heavy bike (40 lbs?) so I have hope that a lighter bike will be easier especially on hills, but we haven't had time yet to go get me one, and I couldn't be riding it right now anyway. I've consoled myself with the idea that I will have all day to complete each segment, and that I can rest as needed, but nobody wants to be the slowest, most unprepared person. The main reason I'm going is because Trevan wants me there. Otherwise I would pick a different year for this, not the year I'm moving my parents in. They are packed and ready to go, and would come this month, but won't come until after we are back from Norway, in case something happens to us and we don't make it back. I know, all this is my 'escape hatch', and I get to 'heed the call' anyway, if I choose it. It's just harder when I feel like going wasn't my idea from the beginning.

Layne: Thanks for opening up, Leslie!  Do you want to go to Norway?

Me: That's a great question. Who wouldn't want to go to Norway? I've been working on hyping myself up for it but no, I would rather not do this, this year. But that would devastate Trevan.

Layne: Then don’t go. And do it without regret. 

Me: He has been a saint about bringing my parents into our home. But I think that if I skip Norway, it might be hard for him to not resent them or me for it. If I had told you yes, I want to go, what would you say about my lack of preparations, and the possibility of making it work despite it?

Layne: I have a couple of thoughts that may be helpful for you, Leslie. First is one that I know you already know, but it helps sometimes to hear it. You’re not in charge of anyone else’s thoughts. So what Trevan thinks about you going or not going is none of your business. That’s all on him. Second, the biggest concern people voice to me is that they’re going to slow everybody down. While you do want to train so that it’s not a slog fest, it’s meant to slow us down and immerse in the landscape and experience rather than rush. It’s an enchanting experience because it invites full body awareness. Third, and most importantly, it all comes down to desire. If you don’t desire it, then I would fully endorse you staying home. But I will add that this current trek has cleared a shift in me. I am thinking now that I may not be doing treks after this year. If I do, it will be maybe one a year. I still may offer them, but I will not be the one running them. I don’t know if that changes anything for you, but I wanted to be transparent in case you thought a future Norway trip with me would be possible.

Me: I understand.

Layne: I would also tell you about Loren. He committed to Patagonia, but bowed out in December due to heavy commitments. Then in January, he got super excited about joining and committed. With only one and a half months training he did the most physically challenging trek I’ve ever done. You can absolutely do it, and the training would be invaluable for you. Not necessarily for the physical enhancement, but mental. Getting out on the bike, allows you to decompress and give yourself unadulterated you time.I would add that the work Trevan and I did in Morocco would liberate you from feeling bound. And if needed, he and I could work through any disparaging thoughts. 

Me: The piece that has kept me in this long is knowing that our youngest is graduating in May, and my parents are moving in at the end of June. This trip was going to be our token and very temporary empty nesters experience. I want to WANT to. That's something, right?

Layne: Let that desire work in you. 😉 What are you most afraid of or daunted by?

Me: Trevan has not been training at all. I've been on the bike way more than him, which is easy when he isn't on it ever. He's been swamped with work and the preparations for the move, too. Maybe 2 little 1-block rides since Christmas, just so he could say he rode. But then he goes and rides his age on Saturday like it was nothing. I'm not sure how to make sense out of that. 

Layne: haha - Once you’ve done it, you know you can. Although physicality is involved, it’s more mental than anything. That’s why we do it—to expand limits and create possibilities.  

Me: Also, just knowing what conditioning can do so that it isn't miserable, and feeling like I'm not going to be conditioned enough. My longest ride so far was 25 miles with 0 hills and it took me a couple days to recover. The trek has 50 mile days with 2000+ elevation and no recovery days. I think my fear simply is failing.

Layne: Got it! And what does “failing” mean to you?

Me: I do love the idea of having all day to finish each leg. Instead of trying to get home by a certain time. That 25 mile ride started at 10 pm (I love riding at night), and I got home after 12:30 am, Trevan waiting up for me. I don't want people waiting for me. Failure means inconveniencing people.

Layne: Thanks for admitting that! You are absolutely correct, there’s a different approach when you know you have all day. And the point is to stop and take photographs and luxuriate in the journey instead of speed through it. As for inconveniencing people, the beauty of a cycling experience is that although you are with other people, it is ultimately a solo journey. Even on this current adventure, often people have pulled into town, far ahead of others. And that's okay.

Me: I don't want people watching me. I love going inward and just being with God, but when people are watching it's distracting to me. That's why I turned off my public sharing on Strava, all the kudos became annoying. Is that weird?

Layne: Not weird at all. It goes back to you afraid of not being seen or noticed or however you put it. 

Me: I'm not remembering that...

Layne: It was during the Weekly Forum session when you volunteered to go through the self judgment part. You spoke about a deep seated concern you had, and I thought it was about being ignored or not noticed.

Me: Oh - right, but that was about being forgotten or not seen by God. Not other people.

Layne: And where did that concern originate? Heh—deep stuff for someone who’s lying in bed sick! 🤒 

Me: He and I have been close since I was young, and in more recent years I have felt forgotten or abandoned because of things not happening like I thought He wanted.

Layne: Interesting. So you feel like you haven’t heard him as clearly? Or like he has distanced from you?

Me: More like He's just making me wait a lot longer than typical, to teach me patience or something. 

Layne: haha - Got it. May I offer some thoughts?

Me: Sure.

Layne: Everyone is on their own journey. We can’t control anybody else else’s, not even our spouses.  Ultimately, we are on our own journey and that is the only one we have any control over. Second, I would invite you to see all the people around you as the expression of God. The people cheering for you. The people who read your books. All human beings on the planet. Therefore, your interactions with them are interactions with the expression of God. You have been a lifelong giver and creator. Are you willing to receive? ... Norway will help you receive.

Me: But 8-9 mph? 🫣

Layne: You’ll [probably] do far better by then, Leslie. And if not, then you’ll do 8-9 mph. It’s not a race.

Me: Well maybe there are others who are worried about being last. If I'm last then everyone else can feel better. 🤓

Layne: haha - Like I said, coming last and holding everybody back is the number one concern people voice to me. Letting go of that is freeing. 

Me: I talked to Trevan. He reminded me not to make any real important decisions while I'm feeling sick. He also said it's ok if I don't go. I needed to hear that. It might just be the thing that helps me feel free to go. Or not. I need some time in this space of feeling free to actually choose. He even said he kind of wishes I could 'do a trek with Layne, without Trevan'. But if I'm going to go across the world to cycle 400 miles, it needs to be someplace like Norway... because Turkiye looks too much like AZ 😂

All In

With both Layne's and Trevan's permission to stay home, I chose in and started to get serious about my training, with the time I had left.

I rode 50 miles, two days in a row. I told Layne, "I did it so my brain wouldn't be so worried about what Norway will require. My body isn't super sore... I did it on the Peloton and took lots of breaks. The hardest part was sitting on the saddle. I'm trying to get used to it but I'm not there yet. I averaged 14-15 mph at 45 resistance. Again, with lots of breaks."

We ordered me a lighter bike but I would only have a couple weeks after it arrived for me to get used to it. I hoped that the training I had done on my 40 pound bike would help me feel extra strong once I could start using the 25 pound bike.

South Mountain, Phoenix

With only one week left before the journey, Trevan talked me into climbing South Mountain with him. No time left to get conditioned, but maybe one good climb would at least help me believe I could do hills. I planned to go up it twice that day, to meet the training tier of 3000+ elevation gain, but I only managed to get up it once. Trevan told me afterward that he wasn't sure I'd even make it halfway.

It felt good to surprise him by going the whole way: 15 miles, 1600 ft elevation gain.

I came home from that ride feeling stronger, but also sobered. 

Ready or not, here I come.

Day 1 - Tromsø to Sommarøy

I wasn’t particularly nervous going into the day, just resigned to face whatever would come. We had spent two nights at an AirBnb up a nearby hill from our starting point, needing the extra day to adjust to the time zone.

The apartment was spacious, three-story, and had a kitchen and living room big enough for 13 of us to gather and build our bikes, which had previously been dissembled for our airplane rides to Norway. On the morning of June 2, we gathered at the church in the center square.

From there, we kicked off with a prayer for our safety, pulled up our navigation tools on our mounted phones, and headed out. The first segment was through a semi-busy town but we quickly found our way to a bike path that would lead us out and over a bridge to the more rural roadways.

The sky was cloudy and the air was brisk. It didn’t take long for me to realize how much work it was to get myself over the hills that rolled through the countryside. Trevan, having been up ahead quite a ways, unexpectedly passed us going back the other direction, since he had forgotten his bag at the church and needed to go back to retrieve it. Thankfully he met Dave partway who had picked it up and gave it to him.

Soon enough, Trevan passed me again and was off into the distance. We had agreed before coming that we would not travel together. He has been on enough of these treks with Layne for us both to know how important it is for each person to have their own experience, without the regular relationship dynamics from home getting in the way of what’s there for each of us to discover.

After what felt like forever, we rounded a corner to face our first big hill. Not one of the rolling ones, but a legitimate ascent that required that I get off my bike and push it up. Some riders were strong enough to climb it without dismounting, but Monica and I did what we had to do to get ourselves to the top.

Once the big hill was behind us, we kept going for a while, saw some reindeer run by...

...and stopped for a break.

I’ll be honest, the whole day was a slog.

I looked at each hill ahead with dread, and spent most of the ride worrying about the next day to come. Day 1 was just a 'warm-up' of 39 miles, 1400 feet elevation gain, and cloudy but dry weather. But by contrast, Day 2 tomorrow would be 55 miles with more than double the elevation gain through a frigid rainstorm.

Besides worrying about the stats of the next day coming, I was also discouraged at how much I lost momentum so quickly with each hill, and struggled to push through. Suffering through each mile (and questioning my life choices) I started identifying visual targets ahead and forced myself to get to each one, exhausted.

To survive the day, I drew from what I had learned on South Mountain in Phoenix the week before - to just make myself do ONE pedal at a time. One. One. One. But pretty soon that wasn’t cutting it; it just wasn’t motivating enough. So I began pushing up each hill by counting 1-10 over and over.

4 hours later, we rolled into town, long after everyone else had arrived, and found the restaurant where they had been ordering burgers. Someone asked how my Day 1 had been, and my answer was “traumatic”.

Trevan wanted to talk to me about it, but felt like it would be better for me to talk to Layne first. I don’t think anyone was surprised that I struggled so much. I had been unengaged in the group chat leading up to the event, and had barely done any actual training ahead of time. I had struggled to be excited about the trip and hadn’t found a super compelling reason to be there, besides just doing it for Trevan’s sake.

Sure, I had done enough to get myself accustomed to the bike seat, which was good. At least I didn’t deal with saddle sores. And yes, I had climbed South Mountain the week before, but that only got my head prepared for medium-sized hills, not the rest of my body. It certainly didn’t condition me or give me a ton of strength once I got to those Lofoten Islands.

Everyone was finished eating when I asked Layne if he had a minute to chat. I told him that basically Trevan wanted him to fix me, so…

Layne interjected, “No fixing. What’s going on?”

I got tearful and told him how hard the day had been for me, and how I couldn’t imagine how I was possibly going to face Day 2.

Layne told me about a man who cycled Norway with him years ago. He said, “Hal was raised as an athlete. You beat the other team. Everything is a fight. It's kind of adversarial. And on our second to the last day, we climbed this Trollstigen road at the end of a box canyon.

"It zigzagged its way up, and at the top we thought hey, we just climbed one of the top 10 roads of the world! It was constantly on those lists, but at the end of it, we still had some climb, and then drop to a fjord, and then across, and then another climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, climb, and then another drop to a fjord. That was our day."

He continued, “At the end of the day, I knew that the next was going to be tougher, because instead of stretching it out over 50 miles, we had to do 5000 feet in 13 and a half miles. And I knew it was going to be brutal, that it would be a challenge. So that night, I said, 'Look, today was epic. You couldn't get a better day. But tomorrow is going to be tough, and our legs are jelly. So, Hal, if you want, we can just call it good and end it today and we're done'."

Hal said, "Layne, I was ticked off because all day I had seen everything as a fight: the rain, the climb, the mountain, the wind, all of it, I saw it as a fight. But in that moment, I realized if I'm going to see it as a fight, I'm gonna lose. I don't have the energy to tackle the wind, and the climb, and the rain. I just don't have it in me. Somehow, I've got to partner with the rain, and the mountain. I've got to GET energy from it instead of fighting it. And if I can do that, Layne, then it might work. But tomorrow, we're going to go slow. You've got to go my pace, and we're going to stop a lot.’”

Layne explained, "When we reached the top, he had finally let go of all the stories he had about how he should be. And when he threw his bike to the side and fell on my shoulders weeping like a baby, I've never seen anyone with such perfect clarity, no ego. There was nothing blocking his inner fire anymore, and it changed his life. Because of his upbringing, he had been conditioned to see things a certain way, and it wasn't until he created them differently that it made all the difference."

Layne then turned his attention to me. "So what's fantastic for you now, is that you can ask, what has conditioned you to think you're underprepared, that life is a fight, or that it's brutal?"

I thought about it, and yes, I could see places in my life where I've felt my best would never be good enough. In adulting, in parenting, in business... but for so many of those years we were in survival mode. We were doing literally everything we could; there was nothing else to give at that time. I've comforted myself to believe that the Savior makes up the difference, that everything is going to be okay eventually, and that there's just some suffering that may have to happen between here and there for not doing better, or being better prepared. But, like Hal, I saw life as a fight.

Layne reminded me that we create stories about ourselves and our circumstances. We look at our situation, and tell a story about it to help it make sense to us, or at least more palatable. But we have to realize, those stories are our own creation. The mountain just IS. Whether it's going to be hard or pleasurable for us to get over is a decision WE make.

I started to cry, and he said, "I love that you are being open. The tears, even though they're painful, they are a sign that you're giving something up, you're letting it out to get some healing. So, how do you reconcile giving yourself grace while dealing with the consequences?"

I told him, "I can say it's okay I'm not prepared. Let's just do this, you know. But if I could avoid the suffering part, I would prefer to do that!"

He reminded me: "Suffering is mental".

I've known this, that pain may be inevitable, but suffering is optional. But I was still so overwhelmed by the mountain in front of me, I couldn't remember how to think. "So how do you stop the suffering??"

He said, "There's a difference between giving grace and forgiving."

I said, "Tell me more."

He said, "Giving grace is almost like pushing it away, like it didn't really happen, or, 'this isn't okay and, like flinging your hands up in the air, c'est la vie. It is what it is'. But it's another thing to look at it and think, 'You know what, that happened. And I created a story about that. I forgive myself for creating that story'. We create those stories. So what? It always starts with a thought. That thought led to a feeling. So tomorrow, if you have feelings of angst, it's because there's a thought up here that's floating down river saying, 'This is going to be tough. You can't do it. You're not prepared. You're underprepared'. So, there are all of these adversarial voices. They're what's cascading down, and your body's responding with, 'Yeah, you're right, I can't'. The body responds to what the mind thinks. Now about all that chatter in the head, we can create a new train of thought. There are two different kinds. There's the chatter that's just constantly going, and there's creative thought. If we get curious about the chatter, it stops. It interrupts it. The whispering voice comes up and it's hissing and as soon as you look at it and go, 'Brain, why are you doing that to me?' Now, that's a creative thought coming from a place of curiosity. And the sinister whisper draws back, and there's a little gap. But then once you ignore it again, it'll come back and keep going. As long as you keep paying attention to those thoughts and ask, 'Why are you thinking that?', it gets interrupted for longer gaps, until your mind can finally be still. Think of it like a river and it's roaring, so keep interrupting it, replace it with a creative thought. Put another way, a negative thought flows in, and you can respond with, 'No, I have prepared what I could, and that's enough'. Whether it's enough or it isn't is something you get to decide. You're the one telling the story. Now suddenly that's different energy. How does that feel in inside you?"

As Layne gave me more empowering thoughts to consider, I felt stronger. I admitted that it's frustrating to have spent 25 years of my life studying mindset to still feel so weak at it. But Layne reminded me that I just have blind spots like everybody else.

He said, "Where you're strong, you're incredibly strong. But now you're experiencing it in the body, in a way you haven't yet, and that doesn't diminish everything you know and everything you've done. What you're experiencing right now, the wrestle, the questions, the frustration... that's the very purpose of this trek experience. Because it's not until we challenge ourselves physically on a level that's totally different, that we open up a new kind of spiritual channel. It's not a better one, it's just a different spiritual channel, and we gain access to it in ways that we didn't before."

Then he asked, "What's your takeaway?"

I said, "To get curious, look at the whispers directly so they'll shrink away. And that if needed, I will pull over and do that during my ride."

He finished our visit with a final thought: "Life doesn't happen the way it should, nor does it happen the way it shouldn’t. Life just happens the way it does. What you think about it is what determines how much you will suffer."

I went back to our hotel room and fell asleep thinking about what he said. The sun wasn't setting while we were on the trek, so our sleep schedule was sometimes a little crazy.

I woke up that night around 3am and got busy describing how I wanted to CREATE Day 2. Here’s some of what I put in my journal:

_______________

What I’m creating the mountain to be:

•  Strength training
•  Character building
•  Patience developing
•  My teacher
•  It loves me
•  It respects me
•  It cheers me on
•  It is proud of me
•  It is honored to grow me
•  These are the same rocks that would cry out if Jesus’ disciples had been stopped from praising Him

Even the sun is waiting for me.

What is my dream? My fuel? That on the other side of this experience I will be:

•  Fit and strong
•  A new creature
•  More confident
•  More athletic
•  A good steward of the gift of my body
•  Having stamina
•  Others-focused
•  More loving

What if I forget, and the climb ahead overwhelms me? I will remember Peter walking on the water and will return my focus to Jesus Christ.

When the whispers sneak in, I will stop, face them, and with curiosity I will seek answers to the question, “Why am I taunted by those words?” “What is the root cause or false belief that invited me to entertain such lies?”

When I feel I've hit my limit, I will ask, “Why do you taunt me, don’t you know I still have 60% more in me?” (This comes from something that I heard from Dave Madder the day before when he explained that a study was done proving that Navy Seals, when they hit their physical limit, were actually only operating at 40% of their capacity.)

I will forgive myself for judging myself as one who believed I was not athletic.

I will forgive myself for judging myself as one who believed I was not strong.

However prepared I am, it was and is enough.

I choose to believe that as I do these things to improve my life, I will see good things reflected in the lives of my loved ones. I entrust them to the Lord. I entrust their souls to Him and will turn my focus to improving what I can about myself.

As I considered what whispers might try to overwhelm me on the road tomorrow, I called them out using Layne's recommended format:

I will forgive myself for judging myself as one who - in my 'surviving' years:

• failed as a mother
• was a toxic wife
• was a cranky aunt
• was an impatient camp counselor
• was weak

I remembered how my friend Christy Lee tackled hills when she was training for a marathon and adopted the mantra, “Hello, hills, I’ve been expecting you! Come ride with me and make me stronger!”

It does me good to remember that everyone here—all the strong ones—had their struggles like mine. They faced their doubts like I am now. They pushed themselves when they thought they had nothing left. Trevan rode to Payson 70-80 miles after only 4 months of training because he didn’t know what it would take, and did it despite the 8000 ft elevation gain.

Monica did a 4700 ft mountain in Greece.

Today is only 2700. I did 1700 yesterday, fighting and hating it. Dreading the next incline. Screaming at it. Today I will ride in the flow of love and gratitude, for the opportunity to improve, and be changed for the better.

Through this experience I will become love. It will teach me to have love and patience for myself and my loved ones over the mountains of life. My belief and patience with others will expand and they will feel it subconsciously across the miles. They will feel a shift even when words are not exchanged. They will feel it in our home they they come to visit. They will bask in the love, safety, and protection that they feel there.

I trust that through my willingness to face and overcome my challenges, the Lord is strengthening those around me to also overcome their own.

I am stronger than I think.

I have stores of energy yet untapped. 

I will replay in my mind the “You Got it In You!” song

I can do this. I can learn this. It doesn’t matter how long I take today!

What is a key word that I can think of when the evidence overwhelms me to the contrary, to remind me of, and to represent all of these truths that I now choose to believe?

STOP AND REMEMBER THE ROCKS!

My body was designed to respond to the demands. My feet are learning to be more of what I need. My back is learning to be more of what I need. My knees and muscles and skeletal system are learning to be more of what I need. And all parts of me, from my mind to the sinews are waking up and rising to the occasion. They are excited to grow, too, and are enthusiastic about the opportunity to fill the measure of their creation.

I trust that miracles will be performed on my behalf, and that my needs will be met in the moment or times that I need assistance.

I will remember that to qualify for these miracles - to not be left on my own in the struggle - I must fear not. When I feel fear overcoming me, I will stop and wait until I am calm. I will stop even before I need to, to stay in the mode of choice / agency. I will keep calm and watch what happens with gratitude and great expectations.

____________________

Leave your comments below or click here for more trek posts.