A Risky Proposition
From Canada to Arkansas, from crits to gravel — Caro Poole’s cycling journey.
By Bryce Ward | Photography by Dominique Powers
Caro Poole began cycling more out of necessity than anything. In Montreal, where she was born and raised, the bicycle is one of the most practical machines for commuting. It didn’t take long, however, for cycling to become more to her than a means of getting around town.
It started with a fixie while she was studying at university. At the time, fixed-gear racing was near the forefront of cycling culture, especially in urban cities. Down south in Brooklyn, New York, the Red Hook Crit was on the rise and capturing the imaginations of countless cyclists, Caro included. But it wasn’t Red Hook that reeled her in; the exhilarating night crits in the abandoned factories of Montreal are what first captured her imagination and set her on the path toward racing.
She had grown up on the slopes — skiing by the age of 2, snowboarding by 16. Athletics had always played a part in her life, so perhaps it was only a matter of time before she found her new endeavor. And along the way, she also found love.
He was a production employee at a bike company in Montreal when they first started dating. He worked there for 12 years until its unfortunate bankruptcy in December 2015. A few months after the announcement, an auction was held to sell the company’s remaining assets, including its production equipment. As every cyclist knows, you can never have too many bike parts, so Olivier decided to attend. A man from America was also in attendance, and he was bidding on almost all the production equipment. As it turns out, he was purchasing the building blocks of a new bike company, or so he told Olivier after curiosity got the better of him. After a long conversation during which Olivier explained he had been trained in every step of his previous company’s bike manufacturing process, the mysterious man from America asked Olivier for his phone number and the two parted ways.
After three long days of waiting, Olivier assumed he would never hear back from his auction acquaintance — and then the phone rang. Caro and Olivier had only been dating for five months when the news came through the other side of the telephone line: a career opportunity, 1,400 miles away from home, in a place known as Little Rock. It was a risky proposition, filled with unknowns; it would require leaving behind family and the lives they built in Montreal; but it was also the epitome of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And so, in August of 2016, the young couple found themselves in Arkansas with a whole new life ahead of them.
Little Rock, they quickly discovered, was not much like Montreal. Getting around town on a bike proved less practical, but there was a small and vibrant cycling scene. There were no night crits in abandoned factories, but there were some day crits in business parks, and some road races, too. Unable to work at the time due to her visa restrictions, and with plenty of time on her hands in a strange new place, Caro directed her energy to the bike and set her eyes toward the upcoming race season.
Caro and Olivier had only been dating for five months when the news came through the other side of the telephone line: a career opportunity, 1,400 miles away from home, in a place known as Little Rock.
She had raced road before, so it was a natural transition. But she had never taken training too seriously. In the winter of 2016, that all changed. She started logging miles on the relatively rural roads in and around Little Rock and became well acquainted with indoor training. At the start of the 2017 season, she picked up a new coach, began training with more structure, and joined her first team. Because Canada and the United States categorize their race classifications a little differently, she was thrown straight into Category Pro/1/2 races. “Cut-throat” was the term she used to describe that experience. But as the saying goes, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger — and she got stronger.
Year after year she continued training, joining increasingly stronger teams until she eventually began racing on a national level. But her climb up the ranks of American road cycling did not come without its costs. Increasing frustrations with tumultuous team dynamics combined with the grueling requirements of high-level road racing gradually drained away her joy for cycling. And then, 2020 came. By this time, she had reached the point of the road that many cyclists eventually encounter: burnout.
During the pandemic, she took time to reorient her relationship with cycling, and she began gravitating toward a different form of cycling that offered her a refreshing alternative to the strictness of road, the type that looks forward to the “Pavement Ends” sign. On gravel roads, Caro rekindled her love for cycling, and her motivation to race again. In January 2022, she hung up her road shoes and joined a gravel racing team. Only this time, she wouldn’t be racing with the goal of winning, because she would soon be a mother.
She found out she was pregnant in October 2021, just days before the Big Sugar gravel race. She knew there was a chance some people would judge her for continuing to train and race while pregnant, but she also knew how important cycling was for her health and wellbeing. And unlike road, gravel afforded her an opportunity to race on her own terms. She could ride as far and as fast as she felt comfortable, far away from car-littered roads. She could stop for as long as she’d like and take in the scenery she once had to ignore. Instead of competing against others, she could focus on connecting with her community. Gravel gave her the freedom to keep riding, and she rode for as long as she could.
On June 29, 2022, Camille entered the world, and Caro and Olivier’s lives changed once again. When they first arrived in Arkansas, cycling was at the top of their list of priorities. They could ride whenever they pleased and for as long as they’d like. But the moment they became parents, they had to reshuffle. Cycling, despite its many benefits, is ultimately selfish. Parenthood, on the other hand, is not. They found creative ways to keep riding — alternating their long and short rides, spending more time on the indoor trainer — but they had to start riding less, more out of necessity than anything. To some, this may sound like a concession, but to those who have gazed into infant eyes, it is nothing short of a miracle.
It really was a risky proposition, filled with so many unknowns, but it’s safe to say it paid off.