The Unbreakable Thread: How Six Women Forged Friendship and Strength Through Virtual Racing

They called us “the age‑group monsters” in the virtual peloton. For years, my teammates and I crushed watts, dominated Team Time Trials, and shared digital high‑fives across time zones. We knew each other’s strengths, our quirks, even our favorite pre‑race snacks. But until last November, not a single one of us had ever laid eyes on the other.

We’re Team OWL, a flock of women 60+ scattered across the globe who met on Zwift. For over four years, our lives have been stitched together by WTRL Team Time Trials every Thursday, pixelated sprints across digital finish lines, and the quiet, off‑screen moments. We’ve cheered each other through PRs, new bikes, and life‑changing comebacks, and we’ve sat up late typing “I’m here” when someone needed it most—all from our own little pain caves, wearing the same kit, facing the same screen.

Then Came Long Beach

The first week of November, six of us from Team OWL finally converged in Southern California, swapping pixelated avatars for real faces and actual smiles. The energy was electric—from the moment we met, it felt like the first day of summer camp for grown‑up nerds who ride bikes: the same wide‑eyed joy, the same slightly too‑tight lycra—and zero bug spray.

There were hugs, laughter, and a genuine sense of “Is this really happening?” I’ll never forget what teammate Maria Shannon said when she arrived from Northern Ireland: “It’s surreal. We’ve spent years talking, racing, and sharing our lives online, but seeing everyone in real life is… mind‑blowing.” And she wasn’t alone.

We’ve spent so much time together online, sharing our lives, but seeing everyone in real-life is…mind-blowing.​

–Maria Shannon

I remember looking around the room and thinking, these are the people who’ve been in my corner for years, and I’ve never seen them breathe. We’ve survived injuries, illnesses, family crises, and race‑day disasters together, and somehow, now, we were all in the same timezone.

Standing there, looking around at the women who’d been my teammates for years, but only as names on a screen, it felt like the virtual world had finally folded into the real one.

There were no expectations, no pressure. Some of us came for just a few days; others stayed for the whole week. And there wasn’t really a plan—just a loose idea of a welcome dinner the first night, a visit to the spectacular Long Beach Aquarium, and a final team dinner to close it all out. Everything else was up for grabs, and the only real agenda was to talk, laugh, and be together without the distraction of virtual lag or dropped connections.

But the bond between us was so strong that it didn’t take long for that loose plan to swell into something much bigger. Pretty soon, all any of us wanted was more time together. We took city bikes along the Long Beach coast, rolling past the water, the pier, and the bustle of the harbor. We toured the Queen Mary, wandered through its decks, and filled the quiet hallways with our chatter. Over meals, we shared stories that had nothing to do with watts or race results—stories about careers, families, favorite sports, and the little things that shaped our lives. With each conversation, the thread between us grew tighter, turning a virtual team into something that felt, for the first time, like a real, living flock.

Team OWL Takes Flight at Zwift HQ!​

I can still feel the buzz in the air as we walked into Zwift’s Long Beach headquarters. Stepping into that building felt surreal—like walking into the heart of the platform that’s shaped so much of our riding.

Waiting for us—a group of women in our 60s and 70s—were some of Zwift’s friendliest faces. We were about to do something special: race a Team Time Trial on the very platform we know so well—but this time, side by side, in the same room at Zwift HQ.

We arrived hours before the race, and you could see the excitement on all of our faces. With our bike measurements tucked under our arms, we individually dialed in our Zwift Rides, double‑checking every reach, every saddle height, making sure the setup was just right. Then it was off to change. When we came back, the race room felt alive as we pulled on our signature Team OWL jerseys—bright colors, feathers, and our logo blazing across black. For a moment, we stopped to look at each other and just smiled. This was really happening.

Warm‑ups started, and the room slowly shifted from chatter to quiet focus. I watched my teammates warm up on trainers, some fiddling with their tech, others just breathing into the moment. As the 15‑minute mark approached, we fell into our familiar pre‑race ritual: the recon, the last jokes, the little superstitions we’ve picked up over the years. Then came the countdown: 10, 9, 8… and that familiar “Go, go, go!” echoed through the room.

And we were off. Pedals spinning in unison, the sound of six riders putting in work filled the space. We slid into our paceline rhythm like muscle memory, rotating up to the front, pulling hard, dropping back so the next person could jump in. Riding on identical Zwift Rides made the pace feel smooth and steady, a reminder that years of virtual races, shared pain, and honest support had turned us into something that looked effortless from the outside.

The race flew by in a blur of sweat, heavy breathing, and unrelenting focus. When we finally crossed the finish line, we were wrecked—but in that beautiful, satisfied way. My legs were burning, my heart was still racing, and my face hurt from smiling. I looked around and saw the same glow on everyone else’s. No matter what the placings said, we’d just lived a lifetime dream.

After a quick cooldown and a very welcome shower, Zwift treated us to a delicious lunch and a tour of their HQ. As we walked through the office, listening to stories about how Zwift came to be, it felt like the perfect bookend to a day that already felt like a dream.

And one teammate—Becky—got to model as Scotty, Zwift’s iconic mascot. Watching her in that costume, laughing and hamming it up for the camera, I remember thinking: this is what it’s all about. Not just the watts, not just the upgrades, but the joy, the connection, and the little magic moments that turn a virtual team into something real.

Memories to Last a Lifetime​

It’s incredible to think that these women, who I had never actually met in person, have become some of my closest friends. We’ve been through so much together, both on Zwift and in life. We’ve celebrated each other’s victories, whether they happened on a virtual finish line or in the ‘real‑life’ version of our lives. We’ve shown up during injuries, illnesses, and the darker days—sometimes just as a virtual shoulder to cry on. And somehow, the distance between us started to feel completely irrelevant.

That feeling isn’t just mine. It’s the heartbeat of the whole team.

Arlyne Salcedo, our teammate from Florida, captured it perfectly: “Epic adventure with the IRL and virtual worlds coexisting! Thanks so much for making this dream actually happen.” Pam Morris, all the way from New Zealand, put it simply: “This was a dream come true. I’m so grateful to have been part of it.” Maria added, her voice thick with emotion, “It feels like I’ve lived an incredible dream—one that turned out even better than I imagined. Thank you for making our team’s dreams come true.”

And Becky, my co‑founder at OWL.BiKe, summed up what I think every one of us carried home: “We’ve built a bond that feels stronger than a lot of real‑world friendships. This was an experience I’ll never forget.”

We’ve built a bond that feels stronger than a lot of real‑world friendships. This was an experience I’ll never forget

– Becky

For me, the Long Beach meet‑up was more than just a reunion. It was proof that an online women’s cycling community can create something deeply real. It showed that when you share the same passion, the same late‑night texts, and the same “I’ve got you” messages, distance doesn’t cancel out connection—it just gives it a different kind of weight.

It was amazing to finally feel, in real life, the camaraderie we’ve built online. We’re not just teammates anymore. We’re family.

And it’s a quiet reminder that the best rides aren’t always the ones measured in watts, upgrades, or finish‑line times. Sometimes, the most meaningful distance is the strength of the bonds we create along the way.

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