Moniera Khan was 54 years old when she finished dead last in her first mountain bike race. But race results have little to do with her love for riding.

Instead, it’s a celebration of what bikes have brought into her life, what her body can do, and her ability to define success on her terms. Whether she’s training through the winter just to cross the finish line or stopping in the forest to look at adorable fungi, she will tell you that she’s an athlete.

“I do athletic things,” she says. “My story is more about delighting in being OK with where I am than a grudging self-acceptance of it.”

Moniera first dipped her toes into biking in her early 40s by participating in the 2010 RBC Gran Fondo, a 122-kilometer road race from Vancouver to Whistler along the Sea to Sky highway. However, she soon realized the road biking experience wasn’t for her; it felt more like work than fun.

Immigrating from South Africa to Canada in 1989, Moniera settled in North Vancouver, British Columbia, where she saw mountain bikers who appeared happy, as though they were enjoying their time on two wheels. This was her first spark of interest in the world of mountain biking.

Only a few months after that first road race, her inaugural mountain bike adventure took her on a blue trail through the challenging terrain of the North Shore. It wasn’t an easy ride—she struggled, threw her bike, and even shed a few tears. Seeking mentorship and guidance, she joined the Muddbunnies.

Becoming a part of a supportive women’s riding club turned the tables for Moniera. Despite often being the oldest and the only person of color, she found a welcoming community full of encouragement. The Muddbunnies celebrated every little achievement, hooting and hollering in the forest for each other. When facing challenging sections of trail, there wasn’t room for defeatist thinking. It was never that they couldn’t do it; it was that they couldn’t do it yet.

“I wouldn’t have become a mountain biker without the support of other women who brought me along,” she says. The genuine kindness and sense of community within mountain biking had her hooked. Whether on a difficult climb or stopping trailside, Moniera experienced passing riders who consistently extended a helping hand, checking if she was OK and offering snacks.

Over a decade later, bikes have filled her life— and her living room—becoming both her exercise and therapy. She doesn’t fit the stereotype of a thrill-seeking, hardcore shredder. Instead, she finds immense joy in mountain biking beyond constant white-knuckle experiences or conquering the next best trail. Plenty of rides include stops to examine whimsical forest mushrooms that catch her eye.

“There’s still the adrenaline thing,” she says. “But that’s one tiny aspect of mountain biking. Do I make people say, ‘Oh, she’s such a badass?’ No, I’m kind of shit, but I’m OK with it.”

Though Moniera has never competed, she’s worked with the BC Bike Race, a seven-day event in British Columbia, for the past five years. Her curiosity about the type of humans who choose to participate in mountain bike stage races drove her to volunteer. “No one told me once you’ve volunteered, you will get sucked in,” she said.

Now, as the Manager of Race Relations, she’s a popular resource for participants, with many connections turning into lasting friendships.

When Moniera relocated to Squamish, British Columbia in 2015, the cold, wet, and dreary winter challenged her commitment to training. Before her first race, Moniera began training with Mike Durner, a cycling coach who works with the US Paralympic Cycling Team. Since prepping for that first race, she has yet to miss a day of her program. She often rides alone because few friends are willing to endure five-hour slogs in the rain. But she’s motivated by the gremlin in her head—an inner voice that can show up in the middle of a race and tell her she’s too old and fat and has no business being there. Strictly following her coach’s guidance allows her to quash that voice by telling it, “No way, I’ve trained so hard for this; I belong here.”

After Moab, Moniera continued to prepare for SBT GRVL’s 100-mile course. She was encouraged, knowing she could ride 100 kilometers from her brief stint as a road cyclist, but knew it would still be a challenge. The night before the race, the All Bodies on Bikes teammates shared similar vulnerable thoughts, wondering if they were in over their heads.

“In my world of working at BC Bike Race, it seems like nobody’s scared,” Moniera says. “So, to see this other side was pretty special. I’d found my people.”

She finished in 11 hours and had an incredible day on the bike. After being so dedicated to her training, Moniera felt empowered and rewarded by her results. Just two months later, Moniera faced seemingly endless climbs during the three-day Wine2Whales race. Unfortunately, she injured her knee the day before it began, making the experience even harder. Despite all her preparation, she sometimes felt disheartened, wondering why the effort still felt so hard.

On the final day, standing in the start chute, a fellow racer asked how she was doing. Moniera shared how tired she felt, and he replied, “Next time, you should train for this.” While she acknowledges he wasn’t a bad person and was lovely to interact with throughout the event, it demonstrates the assumptions and comments people make based on appearances.

In 2023, Moniera became a product model for 7Mesh, a Squamish-based cycling apparel company, but it wasn’t without some discomfort and a lot of vulnerability. She doesn’t claim to love every part of her body, nor does she hate any part. She has thighs that touch and a soft and squishy stomach, as well as quads that are rock-solid, a smile that comes easy, and—she will tell you—a damn fine rack. Moniera pushed through the nerves and discomfort about appearing on the company’s website. She wanted to demonstrate that bodies like hers, often called non-traditional in mountain biking, belong in the sport.

“The first pictures I saw, I cringed,” she says. “But somebody has to show that people with bodies that we so easily call fat in society also ride bikes.”