Siri Lindley had done it all鈥攕he had become the number one triathlete in the world, built a successful career coaching Olympians, and was happily living with her wife Rebekah in Colorado. But in 2019, she was diagnosed with a form of leukemia that had a less-than-ten percent survival rate. Her world was turned upside down. In the months that followed, Lindley fought for her life. There were times when she was terrified she wouldn鈥檛 make it, but through it all, spending time with her rescue horse, Savannah, reminded her how to overcome, love, and heal. Siri and Rebekah now run two non-profit organizations that rescue horses from slaughter and abuse. To date, she has saved 343 horses.

Here鈥檚 her story as told to writer Julia Ries.

When I rescued my horse, Savannah, I had never owned or ridden a horse before. But over the previous years, I鈥檇 gotten to know one, named Giselle, near my home. I would walk my dogs near her pasture, and interacting with Giselle always left me so calm and at peace. The experience made me want a horse of my own one day.

So, in 2016, I decided to visit the to see a 23-year-old horse named Calypso, who was barely able to move. When I arrived, I met the head trainer, Sarah, who recognized me as a world champion triathlete. I told her I wanted to meet Calypso, and she said, 鈥淐alypso is not the right horse for you. I have another one who鈥檚 perfect.鈥�

She took me to meet Savannah, a horse that was much bigger than Calypso and only six years old. Savannah completely ignored me, but there was something about her.

鈥淲hy do you think she鈥檚 the horse for me?鈥� I asked. Sarah shrugged and said, 鈥淚 just need you to trust me.鈥� So, I did.

It wasn鈥檛 until after I adopted Savannah that I learned she had been nicknamed 鈥淭he Trainer Killer鈥� because no one could control her. But Sarah saw potential in me. She knew that, as a triathlete, I didn鈥檛 give up easily鈥攁nd figured I could handle a horse like Savannah. She believed in me more than I believed in myself at the time. And she was right.

I started working with Sarah, and she taught me how to train and ride Savannah. Horses are incredibly sensitive to energy, body language, and intention. I learned how to influence Savannah鈥檚 movement without ever touching her or using force. By shifting my position, I could ask her to move forward. Every step I took, every shift in my posture, the speed and rhythm of my movement鈥攊t all communicated something. I was amazed that I could lead this 1,500-pound, magnificent, and powerful animal with such subtle cues. Over time, Savannah started to look to me for direction, reassurance, and connection.

Before I met Savannah, I was terrified of heights, but I overcame that to ride her. It was one of the scariest鈥攂ut most rewarding and beautiful鈥攖hings I鈥檝e ever done. I eventually built a barn and rescued over 30 horses from neglect and abuse. (The video below captures the bond between me and my sweet girl. Yes, she really does love apples that much.)

Life was good鈥攗ntil 2019. I had been feeling very fatigued and achy, but I had just turned 50 and chalked it up to age. Then I went in for some routine bloodwork ahead of a hip replacement. The results were abnormal. The doctor quickly scheduled me for a bone marrow biopsy and a panel of other tests. A week later, I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, or AML. I was told I had a less-than-ten聽percent聽chance of survival. It doesn鈥檛 get any more serious than that, but I was determined to fight.

Back in 1993, I decided I wanted to be the best triathlete in the world, even though I didn鈥檛 know how to swim. It was ridiculous, and people laughed at me. I had recently realized I was gay, and my dad subsequently cut me out of his life. I felt worthless, unlovable, and undeserving of success and happiness. I pulled myself out of that hole of despair and was determined to prove to myself鈥攁nd everyone else鈥攖hat I could do something extraordinary. I thought: If I could go to the Olympics or win a World Championship, I would be worthy of love. (That wasn鈥檛 great self-talk, but I鈥檝e since forgiven myself for being so critical.) I began training and competing, and eight years later, I became a world champion.

In 2003, I retired at number one in the world and poured all my energy into coaching other athletes. In doing that, I lost part of myself. I was so focused on helping others that I forgot about my own strength and confidence. I felt like my achievements were far in the past. Without them, I wasn鈥檛 sure who I was anymore. Then Savannah showed up. Working with her reminded me that I can do hard things, work through my fears, and overcome any challenge. Because of Savannah, I felt equipped to do whatever I possibly could to conquer this disease.

So, I enrolled in 鈥攖he first would use medications to wipe out the cancer cells; the second was a transplant鈥攁nd immediately started treatment. I did a week of intensive chemotherapy and radiation, then went back to my house in Boulder, Colorado, for a couple of months, where I continued to take medication to eliminate any remaining cancer cells. I was scared all the time. But when I was outside with my horses, the fear dissipated. Out in the pasture, I had the strength to tell myself: You can do this.

Day by day, I fought to keep a grip on hope. And over a span of two months, the cancer stopped spreading. For the first time in months, I let myself believe I might live.

Once I completed the medication protocol, it was time for me to enter the second clinical trial in which I would receive a bone marrow transplant, a type of stem cell transplant that replaces damaged bone marrow with healthy tissue capable of producing cancer-free blood cells. The procedure and subsequent treatment would take weeks. I knew there was a chance, however, that things might go downhill, and that this could be the last time I came home.

Before I left, I rode Savannah around the property. I felt like she believed she was going to see me again. After that ride, I felt ready. I thought: it鈥檚 time to fight.

I went to the hospital a week before the procedure for a massive chemotherapy and radiation session. The doctors had to basically bomb my system and wipe out everything before they could do a bone marrow transplant. Then I had the transplant, which was a success. After that, I was required to stay near the hospital for ongoing treatment and tests.

That period was one of the most difficult I鈥檝e ever been through. There were days when I threw up sixty times and felt like I was dying. I lost 25 pounds. I also started to feel depressed. I hated knowing that my horses and ranch were 45 minutes away. It was brutal. But as the weeks went on, my symptoms eased, and I slowly got better. I pleaded with my doctors to let me go home, and they eventually did.

When I returned home, I was still so weak, but I got out of the car and walked right to Savannah. It was raining, and even though she hates being wet, she ran to me. She let me kiss her all over. I was completely overcome with joy and relief. For so long, I didn鈥檛 have her. I needed her, and there she was. It was then that I knew I was going to be OK.

After that, all I wanted to do was ride her. My wife chided me, 鈥淪iri, you have been fighting for your life鈥攜ou can鈥檛 ride her in your condition.鈥� She was terrified, and understandably so; Savannah is the kind of horse that takes off before your feet are in the stirrups. But I got on Savannah anyway. This time, she let me put my feet in the stirrups. That was new. Then, she took tiny, careful steps. We barely moved. Again, she knew exactly what I needed. I started crying tears of joy.

This is the thing about horses鈥攖hey meet you where you鈥檙e at. They can sense what you can and can鈥檛 do. After that, I rode her once a week as I continued with my treatment. We would go so slowly that we鈥檇 only cover about 80 feet in half an hour.

One day, a few months after the transplant, I got on her and she was suddenly back to her old ways鈥攕he took off before my feet were in the stirrups. I finally got her to stop. 鈥淪avannah!鈥� I shouted, 鈥淲hat are you doing? I鈥檓 weak and I鈥檓 sick!鈥� I didn鈥檛 understand why she was being so rough with me. I was furious. A few days later, I got the call from my doctor that I was cancer-free.

That鈥檚 when I realized鈥擲avannah knew before anyone else. She was saying: Mom, you鈥檙e no longer a patient. It鈥檚 time to live again.

A new film, , takes viewers on an emotional trip through Siri Lindley’s life. In it, she and her athlete friends and family members get candid about her journey to becoming the number one triathlete in the world, how she came to terms with her sexual orientation, and her resilience in the face of a cancer diagnosis. Tri Me premieres this year. Follow for more updates.

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Friends, we have a crisis looming on our hands and something must be done.

If you鈥檝e been living under the surface level of the pool, Strava sashayed into the zeitgeist last week when 贰濒濒别听published an article titled 聽According to the story, a pay-to-play, digital dating environment has ravaged younger American generations with swipe fatigue, and Strava, author Kelsey Borovinsky argues, provides a platform for people who enjoy endurance sports to find each other.

So far, so great. Endurance sports have infiltrated pop culture enough to get written up in the likes of聽Elle, without even Taylor Swift signing on? Rejoice! We can use Strava to find connection and community? Hallelujah!

But, Borovinsky, are we talking about the same ? The one with segments and leaderboards that breed ? The app that doesn鈥檛 even support direct messaging, much less discovery?

Sure, Strava has a 鈥渇lyby鈥� feature to see who you encountered on your outing. But if you manage to track down strangers you glimpsed for a quarter of a second on your run two days ago with this beta feature, what are you going to do? Ask them out in a public comment on their activity?

No, if you are a sane person with manners, you are going to find them on Instagram or something and send them a DM. Nicely. Politely.

I hear DMing is coming to Strava. We will deal with those ramifications later. One crisis at a time. Beyond practicalities, there lies the greater existential question that we must ask ourselves: Do we really want Strava to serve as a way to impress people in that dating-kind-of-way? It鈥檚 already a haven for those looking for validation and ways to look down on each other, but it could get worse, much worse.

滨苍诲别别诲,听Elle鈥檚 Borovinsky describes a Strava filled with young, single people like Ellie Gerson. She鈥檚 a runner and influencer from San Francisco who, after completing her scenic seven-mile run, 鈥渋mmediately opens Strava to upload her workout, along with a cute selfie and a relatable caption about the highs and lows of training for the Chicago Marathon.鈥�

Marathon training, we love to see it. But Gerson isn鈥檛 here just to chronicle the highs and lows of her journey to 26.2. When asked if she hopes potential suitors will see her Strava uploads Gerson said, 鈥淥ne thousand percent. Whether it was a long run or I鈥檓 in a cute outfit, there have definitely been times where I鈥檝e thought, he will see this.鈥�

Look, it鈥檚 a free country. Gerson, Borovinsky, and all one hundred million Strava-ers (Strava-ites?) can use Strava however they want. But do we really need yet another platform for people to impress each other? Can鈥檛 someone just spend a long run thinking about pancakes, not thirst traps?

Strava鈥檚 where I connect with friends and family. I see my 72-year-old dad鈥檚 five-hour Zwift ride, and I know he鈥檚 just as deranged as he was 50 years ago. Thank god. It鈥檚 where I get beta on trail and road conditions from those more intrepid than I. It鈥檚 where we -yes the royal we of all endurance peoples 鈥� bond over our mutual hatred of wind. And it鈥檚 what I turn to when I need a little bit of extra motivation from my psycho friends who run at 4 AM.

In short, I rely on Strava to learn about聽what鈥檚 really going on. It鈥檚 like getting an honest answer to, 鈥淗ow are you?鈥� without even needing to ask. Even for those people who call their hammer sessions 鈥渆asy runs,鈥� the heart rate data keeps them honest.

Strava feels like a safe haven for simplicity, silliness, and sincerity鈥攕egment hunting and threats of stalking put aside.

Maybe (probably) I鈥檓 being an overly cautious curmudgeon. I鈥檝e been off the market for like six years, I鈥檓 old and out of touch. But in our overly digitized and curated world of filtered photos and painstakingly edited reels, Strava is the last place on the internet that hasn鈥檛 wholly succumbed to the dramaturgical trap of masking your true self in service to an impossible ideal. It鈥檚 a place to be yourself, and to celebrate others for being the same. And in a world saturated with insincerity, I need Strava to feel like I still have a semblance of a grasp on the truth.

So, Strava-ites, here is my plea to you: Keep posting those snot-encrused selfies and silly Strava titles. In the spirit of love, celebrate your friends for doing the same. And then, if Strava happens to serve as the most wholesome accidental meet-cute on the internet, we all win.

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