Friendships formed on the bike can create the strongest bonds.
Kristie Gill and Sarah Palestine didn’t meet in the way most friendships begin. There was no party, no introduction through mutual friends—just a shared purpose that neither of them had chosen.
They found each other through the Pan-Mass Challenge, an organization bound by miles and meaning. Both had lost their mothers to breast cancer. As a result, a quiet, unspoken understanding was already there before they ever spoke.
“We were actually volunteering for it in their offices one day, and we met,” Sarah remembered. “And then we reconnected the weekend of the ride.”
It was during that two-day ride across Massachusetts that something shifted. Kristie had joined Sarah’s team, and on the second day, they found themselves riding side by side.
“We were having breakfast together, and everybody was really slow getting down there,” Kristie remembers. “Sarah and I were like, ‘For the love of God, we want to get on our bikes. You want to get over the Bourne Bridge before they close. They hold a lane for us until 6:00 AM, but you do not want to be on that bridge after that.’”
So the two started off.
“I was just thrilled to hang on her wheel,” Kristie said, laughing at the memory. “She was going 19–20 miles an hour the whole time.”
For Sarah, it was just a ride. For Kristie, it was something else entirely.
“At that time, I was a quarter of the cyclist I am now,” she said. “But Sarah changed my relationship to cycling.”
They rode together for miles that day—long enough for something deeper than coincidence to take hold. Sarah noticed Kristie’s determination immediately.
“I could tell she was pushing herself,” Sarah said. “And I think it’s always really cool when you can be that person who’s helping someone get stronger. Kristie was crying and telling me, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’ But it was obvious that she could do it.”
That belief, that determination, became the foundation of much that followed.
After the ride, Sarah invited Kristie to join her and her cycling group. Kristie hesitated at first.
“I kept saying, ‘No, I’m too slow. I’m too slow. I’ll hold you up.’”
But she went anyway.
What she found there changed her life.
“Sarah is sort of the ride leader, and when I arrived, I understood that she had pretty much assigned someone to sit in front of me the whole time,” she said. “When I’d fall behind, someone would come back. One would take the crosswind, one the headwind, and they’d get me back to the group.”
“It may sound trite,” she added, “but that changed my life. Nobody had ever encouraged me in anything athletic before. I didn’t know I could be an athlete.”
And while tragedy may have first brought them together, cycling was now the foundation of their friendship. Early mornings, long rides, steady conversations—these were things they both looked forward to, and they helped them navigate future challenges like separation and unemployment. The bike—and their friendship—became constant.
“I do not know how I would’ve gotten through this past year without her,” Kristie admitted. “Without her and without my bike.”
So when the idea of riding together in Europe surfaced, it felt almost inevitable—first to Italy and then Spain.
It was on the heels of their first trip to Sicily when Sarah sent Kristie a link. It was to inGamba’s Women’s Week in Calpe.
“Oh, wouldn’t this be cool?”
Months later, Sarah called Kristie to share some bad news—she had lost her job.
“She called me upset,” Kristie said. “And I was like, ‘Sarah, this is such great news. Do you want to go to Spain?’”
Sarah laughed, remembering her own response.
“In my little sad voice, I said, ‘Yeah, I really do.’” And so, come February, they both escaped the cold of the New England winter for a week well spent in Spain’s Alicante region.
“I think Women’s Week is such a cool thing,” Sarah said. “Cycling is such a male-dominated sport. In most groups I’ve been in, women only make up 10–20%. So being in a group of strong women—it’s just special.”
Kristie agreed. They had always talked about wanting to ride more with women, but this was different. This was immersive.
“I think the experience of it was so good,” she said. “And the women were strong—stronger than we expected. That really impressed me.”
In Spain, the rides were challenging, but the atmosphere was something else entirely—supportive, open, deeply connected. In some ways, it echoed what they had first found in each other, now multiplied across an entire group.
There were long climbs, shared laughter, and the kind of conversations that only happen when people are both pushing themselves and fully at ease.
For Sarah, the trip exceeded expectations.
“It was the level of personalization, the hospitality,” she said. “It just felt… different.” She was also surprised to find that the two were among the only single women in the group. Most of the guests on this Women’s Week were in relationships, yet they were all attracted to the idea of joining a trip planned uniquely for women.
“It’s a great idea. I was talking to my aunt about it,” Sarah said. “My uncle can’t travel, and she doesn’t cycle, but she was like, ‘If I did another active trip, I would definitely do a women’s week.’ I think it’s very attractive to a lot of different women for different reasons.”
Back home in Massachusetts, these two cycling sisters have been organizing something more intentional—a network of women riders who can match their pace and their passion.
“It’s hard to find women in that 17–20 mile-an-hour range,” Kristie said. “But we’ve started putting together a list.”
They are trying to meet at least once a month, rotating locations and bringing more women into what they’ve found.
And when the men in their cycling circles ask if they can join, Kristie just smiles.
“They’re like, ‘Can we come?’” Kristie said with a touch of laughter. “And I’m like, ‘You’re not a woman. Sorry, not sorry.’”
For both of them, Women’s Week wasn’t just a trip. It was a glimpse of what cycling—and community—could look like when space is intentionally made.
It also made one thing clear.
This won’t be their last inGamba journey. It comes as no surprise that they are already looking ahead to another Women’s Week, whether it’s the end-of-season trip to Lecchi or the first Women’s Week in 2027 in Portugal’s Algarve region.
Clearly, what started as a chance meeting—two women connected by loss—has become something far larger: a friendship built on movement, resilience, and the simple, powerful act of showing up for each other.
Somewhere along the way, the road stopped being about where they were going.
It became about who they were riding with.
And they’re not done yet.
