The Minefield of Memory

An Interview with Rebecca Rusch, Queen of Pain

Interview by JESSICA C. MALORDY

Rebecca Rusch, nicknamed “The Queen of Pain,” is among the greatest ultra-endurance mountain bikers in the world, and holds 10 years’ worth of world records and championships. In 2015, she took on a new challenge—physically, emotionally, and mentally—when she decided to pedal the 1,200 miles of the Ho Chi Minh Trail, in search of the site where her U.S. Air Force pilot father’s plane crashed during the Vietnam War.

Along the way, Rusch gained new perspective on the conflict from her riding partner, cyclist Huyen Nguyen, one of the most decorated athletes in Vietnamese history. Rusch also discovered another tragic legacy of the war — unexploded ordnance, the explosive remnants of bombs and other munitions that continue to devastate the Vietnamese, Laotians, and Cambodians who live today along “Blood Road.”

Rusch and Nguyen’s experience was filmed, and became the 2017 documentary Blood Road.

WHEN DID YOU FIRST HAVE THE IDEA TO RIDE THE HO CHI MINH TRAIL AND WHAT WAS YOUR INSPIRATION?

It was 2003 when I first visited Vietnam and that’s when the seed for this expedition was planted, but it took another 12 years for it to materialize. I was competing in a jungle expedition race that entailed navigating more than 1,000 miles of the brutal terrain on bikes, in kayaks, and on foot. We weren’t being shot at, but we were being chased as we struggled to survive the intense elements and unforgiving landscape.

Physically immersing myself in the jungle of Vietnam gave me a distinct feeling of empathy for my Dad that I had never felt before. I wondered, “Is this similar to what he and the other soldiers went through?” After the race ended, my mom and I visited Da Nang Air Force Base, where my father was stationed, the DMZ (demilitarized zone) border between the north and the south, and the Khe Sanh, the location of one of the bloodiest battles in the war. So many physical remnants of the war still remain such as bomb craters, defoliation from Agent Orange, tunnels that were homes and plane wreckage. But the people have moved on and in most places the landscape rejuvenated, like at Khe Sahn.

It’s now a beautiful coffee plantation and you would never know its horrific history without reading about it in a book.

This was where our guide at the time pointed out the Ho Chi Minh Trail across the border, and I could see a little road running through the jungle. I knew my Dad, an Air Force fighter pilot, was shot down over the Ho Chi Minh Trail, but I didn’t know much more about its complex history or the route. I took a picture of the lush green hills and the trail. I had a fleeting thought that I wanted to go there one day and travel along that trail. I didn’t think about it again for years.

In 2007 a search and recovery mission finally identified my dad’s remains at the crash site, and that’s when we finally knew that he had died in the crash that day in 1972. It took 30 years for us to know that he wasn’t alive, that he wasn’t a prisoner of war. There was part of me that was relieved to find out he was dead, more than anything, that he hadn’t been tortured and hadn’t suffered.

This discovery sparked my curiosity about the place and I thought again about going back. As my cycling was evolving to include more expedition riding, my idea to ride the Ho Chi Minh Trail took shape. The inspiration was twofold: to attempt the biggest, most adventurous ride of my life and also to explore my family history and find a piece of myself that I never knew.

WHAT WAS IT LIKE TO PLAN AND THEN TACKLE THIS JOURNEY AS A FEMALE CYCLIST, SPECIFICALLY?

I’ve never thought of myself as a “female” athlete. Of course I’m female, but I’m an athlete first and being female doesn’t change how I plan and prepare for a big expedition or train for riding. Experience and skill are not gender based. You build those things over time by spending time with mentors (regardless of gender), honing your skills and preparing as anyone would. I think it’s important to celebrate great athletes who happen to be women, but not categorizing them as female athletes…they are athletes and should be respected for their skill not because they had to overcome a gender bias.

MORE BROADLY, HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE THE EXPERIENCE OF BEING A WOMAN IN THE CYCLING AND OUTDOOR WORLDS?

Being a female athlete in outdoor sports provides limitations and opportunities. There is less prize money, often less salary, limited races (example, there’s no Women’s Tour de France). However, if you are good at what you do, there is less competition, so sometimes it’s easier to get noticed and get recognition or stand out in a crowd of men.

One example is the Leadville Trail 100, which I’ve won four times. Since the men and women race on the same course at the same time, there is a ton of recognition for the top women who finish quite high up in the men’s field. There is a powerful message displayed when a woman is passing hundreds of elite men.

Women are still outnumbered in cycling race participation; however in general participation, the estimate is nearly 50/50 female to male. The women are riding and participating in outdoor sports at increasing levels. I came from a rock climbing, paddling and adventure racing background and have been an athlete for more than 30 years. I see a marked difference in participation in all of those sports and cycling. When I launched the SRAM Gold Rusch Tour six years ago, there were very few women’s mountain bike clinics and now there are tons of them.

All it takes is for the door to be cracked open a little to invite women in and they will kick it down. This is happening. (Albeit a little too slowly for my liking, but it’s happening.) The cycling industry is still dominated by white men, but it is changing...so it just takes people like you and me inviting friends to ride, teaching people, mentoring them and also pushing our own way through the door. I’ve gotten to where I am by sheer brute determination and persistence. That’s the only way change happens.

HOW DID YOU CONNECT WITH HUYEN NGUYEN, AND PLAN FOR THIS JOURNEY HAVING NEVER RIDDEN TOGETHER BEFORE?

I’ve never planned an expedition of this magnitude with a stranger. We found Huyen through research and word of mouth. She’s the most decorated cyclist in Vietnam and has won the Southeast Asia games four times, which is a really big deal. But she’s been retired from racing for 10 years, she’s a mom of two, she works, she’s been away from regular training for a long time, and she had little notice, like I did, to prepare. We met for the first time authentically in the film.

Huyen Nguyen fastens her helmet.

PHOTO by Josh Letchworth/Red Bull Content Pool

I admit, I was terrified. Having a new partner was the one thing that I was the most unsure about, because it was the one thing that was completely out of my control. She had so many new things to learn about expedition riding. I taught her how to use a CamelBak. The brand new Niner bicycle was different than what she used to ride. I just didn’t know if she could take the day-to-day toll. It takes a certain mindset and physical ability to be able to ride for 8-10 hours a day for almost a month.

She ended up being the perfect teammate. What she lacked in experience and training, she made up for with determination and dedication. She was so compassionate, intuitive and supportive of my mission that we ended up becoming like sisters in the end, and we are now bonded for life from this experience.

Rebecca Rusch on the Ho Chi Minh Trail for the feature film project 'Blood Road' in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia in March, 2015.

PHOTO by Josh Letchworth/Red Bull Content Pool

I didn’t set out to plan an emotional journey. I’m not sure anyone can plan for that type of thing.

WHAT DID YOU LEARN FROM HUYEN DURING THIS JOURNEY?

She taught me to slow down, which allowed me to look, to listen, to change focus from just me and look outward beyond just my mission and open my eyes to the bigger world around me. This change in pace and perspective allowed me to experience the ride in a much more complete way. She also taught me that you don’t need words to communicate and that despite very different upbringings and experiences, we are all very much the same.

And she is very friendly, where I’m more quiet and reserved. She would tell me how rice is planted and harvested and she let me know that the people we were riding by were probably laughing because they couldn’t believe that two women were out riding in the countryside by themselves. And she would share stories about what her family was going through during the war from her perspective. What I predicted would be the biggest weakness and challenge during the trip ended up being one of the most enlightening and powerful aspects.

DID YOU EVER GET THE CHANCE TO TALK FURTHER WITH HUYEN ABOUT GENDER AND CYCLING?

On the very first day of riding, we were on rural roads in Vietnam, but they were fairly busy with local traffic from trucks, scooters, cars. Almost everyone would look and wave enthusiastically. At one stop on a bridge, a group of teenage Vietnamese kids ran up and wanted to take pictures with us. I was baffled at how friendly and enthusiastic everyone was. When I asked Huyen about their reactions she told me that it’s because it’s very unusual to see two women cycling together in the countryside. So the reaction was one of surprise but also of encouragement and excitement to see us out there on a big journey together as two women. She is also one of the most decorated cyclists in Vietnam (male or female). No one has ever earned her record. She is also a mother and a teacher, but is viewed as a local hero. Women’s roles are more traditional than in the United States, but both of us are proof that if you work hard enough at something, you can push through the traditional norms.

WHAT MOTIVATED YOU MORE, THE PHYSICAL JOURNEY OR THE EMOTIONAL JOURNEY?

I initially planned the trip as a physical challenge... because that’s what is familiar to me. This was a dream expedition; heading into the unknown and mapping our own route in remote places that few people had ever visited. I was extremely motivated and intrigued by the history of the trail and wanting to see what was out there. Of course, my dad’s story is what inspired the idea, but I didn’t set out to plan an emotional journey. I’m not sure anyone can plan for that type of thing.

DID THAT CHANGE BY THE END?

I had the crash coordinates as my main goal the whole time. That was the reason to do this physical journey, but I didn’t expect the kind of emotional transformation that I had. Slowly day-by-day, I started to change. It was almost imperceptible and two years later, looking back, I can see it. What I thought would be the most challenging ride of my life became the most impactful ride of my life for very different reasons. In the end, the physical journey was the easiest part for me.

Getting to the crash site was more impactful and expansive than I expected. I am not the same person as the one who began the ride. Obviously, I knew it would be emotional, but as we rode closer to the crash site, I started to strongly feel my dad’s presence. The many miles on the bike riding toward the place allowed me time to mentally prepare, to meditate and also physically strip away my armor. It sounds very cliché but I finally found what I was looking for, even though I wasn’t aware that I was searching.

All my life as an endurance athlete people have asked, “Why do you push so hard? Why do you do such long races? What are you searching for?” I never had an answer for that and I never would have said, “I was searching for my father,” because it just didn’t occur to me. Now it’s clear that he brought me there to find a missing part of myself.

Initially I was frustrated that the film crew slowed me down, but now I’m grateful because it gave me a lot of time to journal, and think, and process. As a competitive athlete, I’m usually trying to go fast to win a race or break a record and rarely take time to slow down. The hardest part for the film crew and Huyen was probably stripping away my competitive nature for this ride. It was a sore point for the early part of the trip, but eventually I was able to let go of what I trained my whole life to do and experience this ride in a more complete way.

After reaching the goal of the crash site, we still had hundreds of miles of riding ahead. I felt a lightness, happiness and stillness that I’ve never felt while riding my bike. I was still moving the pedals like before, but I was free. It’s hard to articulate, but it’s as if I was no longer looking for something. I was completely at peace in the moment without having to strive for the next accomplishment. Looking for him at the crash site was really about finding out and understanding who I am and what is important to me.

The inspiration was twofold: to attempt the biggest, most adventurous ride of my life and also to explore my family history and find a piece of myself that I never knew.

WHAT HAS THAT EMOTIONAL CON- NECTION MEANT FOR YOU (AS AN INDIVIDUAL, AND AS A CYCLIST) NOW THAT THE TRIP IS OVER? WHERE DOES IT POINT YOUR WHEELS NEXT?

I’ve been home from the ride over two years and the lessons and the emotional part of the journey still continues. On the trail, the emotional journey was about getting to know my father, how he died, and how he lived. In the process of planning for and completing the trip, I uncovered personal history from our family, such as his letters, more of his music, stories from my mother that I’d never heard.

People have always said that the trip must have been great closure for me but it was exactly the opposite. I wasn’t putting a close on a chapter of my life and his life; instead I got to know him and continue to get to know who he was through this process. I’m finding him and also recognizing pieces of myself in the man I’m getting to know. The part of him that will always be there with me. I do believe that he’s been calling me there to that place my entire career. I can trace back through the years and see now how the pieces all fell into place. Even though my path seemed circuitous, it was all leading me to that tree in Laos. I needed all the skill I’d developed as an athlete, all of the maturity I’d developed, and the 15-year relationship with Red Bull, who sponsored the film, to enable this trip to happen.

PHOTO by Josh Glazebrook/Red Bull Content Pool

The trip has made an impact on the next phase of my career. It reinforced my desire to take long, exploratory journeys by bike. This is where my motivation lies, what I love to do, where my skill base lies, and the trip down the Ho Chi Minh Trail reinforced that desire to see the world by bike.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST—ANY WISDOM YOU’D LIKE TO PASS ON TO OUR READERS; OR ANY NEW REVELATIONS AS YOU EXPERIENCE THE FILM TOUR?

Really the main thing is that we are all part of one world and as different as we may seem to someone on the other side of the world, we all feel the same emotions in the same way. Traveling outside your normal circle is essential in being able to understand our world and also really appreciate what you have at home. I’ve also learned that the only way to find forgiveness for a war (or anything else) is to build awareness. We cannot learn to forgive if we don’t understand and learn who people are and what they go through. Lastly, we do have the ability to make an impact no matter how small we feel. It’s hard not to be discouraged by all of the suffering and hate and uncertainty in our world, but instead of being beaten down by it, I think it’s important to tackle whatever small bit of good that we can. For me, I’ve started working to help clean up the unexploded ordnance in Laos in my dad’s name. I want to help clean up the same bombs that he was dropping if I can.

Rebecca Rusch greets fans outside the Blood Road screening in Santa Monica, CA, USA on June 12, 2017.

PHOTO by Josh Glazebrook/Red Bull Content Pool