Finding Peace in the Wild.

Kevin Hubsmith's Man Ride Story.

By Black Sheep Cycling

November 12^th, 2020

In order to find himself, Black Sheep ambassador Kevin Hubsmith first had to lose himself. Twice.

When people look at me, they see an all-American, healthy and athletic guy. My reality is more complicated. My reality became more complicated while I was in my sophomore year of high school in Wayzata, Minnesota.

I was a good student. Active, And I had lots of friends. My reality was different.

I was beginning to struggle with my mental health.

It terrified me.

“I didn’t want depression; I didn’t want anxiety. I didn’t want to acknowledge any of it.”

This led me to stay silent about what I was going through. I hid it from friends. My doctors too. I hoped if I just told everyone everything was fine, that eventually, I would indeed be fine. Not the case.

"It was a cry for help. I could not utter what I needed to say, so I asked for help in another way."

During the spring semester of my senior year, I had an incident with self-harm. The incident pulled me out of school for the remainder of the year. I missed my senior-year season of lacrosse, and I missed the final months of high school. In hindsight, it was a cry for help. I could not utter what I needed to say, so I asked for help in another way. I spent the next six months working on my mental health before heading off to college in Boston.

This was a rough semester. I once again made lots of friends and had a great social life, but deep down, I was struggling. This became apparent to my parents when I came home for the summer. I was clearly still depressed. As the holidays ended, I went back to Boston for another semester of school. My return to school put me in a manic state. I wasn’t sleeping much, I was extremely social, and I was spending recklessly. To my surprise, my parents recognised this from afar and informed me I would be going to a wilderness therapy program. At first, I was livid at the idea of leaving school to go ‘take a walk in the woods’.

Little did I know at the time it would be the best form of therapy. I spent the next 76 days in the Moab region of Utah. We hiked 5 days a week, carrying all of our supplies on our backs. Over the course of these 76 days, I never once stepped inside of a building, and I don’t recall ever seeing a car. We were quite deep in the desert, surrounded by nature. This experience is something I wish everyone could undertake. Having the ability to cut out the stressors of the real world allowed me to get to know myself better than I ever would have. Going to the wilderness gave me a mental health toolbox. I had a better understanding of how my body and mind worked, and what I needed to do to live with it.

Fast forward nine years. I am now living in New York City studying and working as a model. More importantly, I have fallen for cycling. And when I learned that Black Sheep was hosting their annual Man Ride, I wanted to get involved. I have always been very passionate about mental health, but never on a public level. It is something that has affected me for so long, yet I was still hiding from the stigma that surrounded it.

“I got a shower thought. Maybe I would return to Salt Lake City, and ride my bike down to Moab.”

I got a shower thought. Maybe I would return to Salt Lake City, Utah, and ride my bike down to Moab, Utah. Sharing my story and raising awareness for mental health. I wanted to do this to help others, but also for myself. I wanted to free myself from the stigmas I was afraid of.

In roughly two short weeks, with the help of a cycling teammate, Vince, and two friends, Tse and Brian, we had turned the idea into a reality. I had shared my story for the first time publicly. I gave it the name ‘Cycling the Face of Mental Health’. The support I received after sharing my story was incredible. People from far and wide reached out to share their support and their stories. I created a fundraiser with Hope for the Day, and together we raised over $5000. Within 24 hours of sharing my story, I had appeared on New York News Station (ABC) and been overwhelmed with support. I could tell that I was doing the right thing. I knew that this was what I was supposed to do.

It was Tuesday, October 6, about 8:30am, and Vince and I were ready to go. We set out through the Salt Lake Valley and found our first brutal climb. For some of you, the climb may not be anything too wild, but for two roadies in flat New York City, it was a challenge. Roughly 23 miles and 6000 feet of elevation later, and we had climbed one of two peaks for the day. We eventually arrived at camp around 6pm, 123 miles, 11,349 feet of elevation, and 7 hours 13 minutes of riding. We were beat. Vince and I were debating how in the world we would even get up the next day. We were in a dark place, pretty bonked and in low spirits.

When morning dawned, the beauty of the campsite and the area seemed to inspire us. We needed to get our heads in the right place. We helped Brian and Tse pack up the gear so they could meet us at the next destination, only to realise our car battery was dead. We were really in the middle of nowhere. This put a bit of a kink in our plans. We spent time trying to diagnose the problem and seeing if we could fix it with what we had. In the end, we went on our bikes to go find some help. Luckily, the people of Utah are just too nice, and within 30 minutes of riding and the first people we spoke to, help was on the way. Vince and I were now in even better spirits, and we were ready to ride. Day 2 was a bit shorter, 65 miles, 3875 feet of elevation, and only 3 hours 11 minutes of riding time.

Our campsite that evening was beautiful. Day 3 was a big one for us. Vince and I were stoked for it. But that had more to do with taking over the Black Sheep Instagram. This was our final day of riding and we wanted it to honour the journey. We left around 8am and it was devilishly cold out. Riding in the desert means freezing mornings, and hot afternoons. The day started around 35 degrees and, at its peak, was about 80 degrees. Not deterred by heat, the day ended at 90 miles, 2064 feet of elevation. We had made it to Moab.

“When I arrived in Moab, I felt happy. A simple word. But something inside of me had healed. Closed. Finished. I felt like I had finally come to terms with my mental health.”

When Vince and I arrived in Moab, I felt happy. But something inside of me had healed. Closed. Finished. I felt like I had finally come to terms with my mental health. I felt like I had finally closed this chapter of my life. It’s not to say I won’t still suffer from mental health. But I feel comfortable with it. Nine years ago, I left Moab with my mental health at a comfortable place for the first time. Arriving in Moab this time, I felt comfortable sharing my journey with mental health for the first time.

I think I learn something about myself every time I go to Moab. My first time, it taught me about my mental health. This trip helped me feel more comfortable in my own skin. For years I had been allowing the stigma surrounding mental health to affect me. But I will no longer let that happen. I would like to continue to do this ride annually, and ideally, I would like to get others to join me.

Mental health is not something that needs to be hidden. In fact, the more it is discussed, the easier it is to heal. A world without the stigma of mental health is a world I want to live in.