Mind > Miles

After suffering a traumatic brain injury, Chessie Rudland set out on a solo ride across New Zealand’s South Island—not to prove anything, but to reconnect with the land, her limits, and the simple joy of just riding her bike.

Chessie was gracious enough to share her ride notes with us—her inner thoughts on the journey, the highs, the lows, and the quiet moments in between. From windswept alpine passes to still morning roads, she captured the rawness of riding alone, the mental recalibration that distance demands, and how mind over miles becomes more than a mantra—it forges a source of resilience, clarity, and strength.

The idea for the ride had been sitting quietly in the back of my mind since I lived in New Zealand. Some friends had taken on the Tour of Aotearoa—Cape Reinga to Bluff—and after hearing their stories, I knew it was something I wanted to do too.


But a serious bike crash changed everything. I was diagnosed with a mild TBI, and the final year of my time in NZ became focused on recovery.

After moving to Australia, the urge to go back and ride hadn't faded. I’ve always loved hearing about other people’s endurance efforts—their motivations, their resilience—and it was listening to Ella Bloor talk about her journey that made me finally say: it’s time to do this.

And letting go of perfection.

Originally, I wanted to ride the full ToA route, across both islands, camping the whole way. But that plan didn’t fit with my reality. Post-TBI, sleep is everything. Camping wasn’t an option. I’d also had some relapses, so long back-to-back days weren’t guaranteed.

Eventually, I landed on something more achievable: just the South Island, solo, in 7 days, staying in hostels.

Letting go of the ‘bigger, better’ version of the challenge was hard. But in the end, that was the point. I had to meet myself where I was at—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

The moments that made it.

“I came into this challenge with a 95% strike rate of falling off my gravel bike. Making it through 7 days in one piece? A miracle.”

A group of friends built me a Spotify playlist—techno, Justin Timberlake, the Hamilton soundtrack. Every climb was a guessing game of who added what.

Reconnecting with MAAP mates in Wānaka—shoutout to Jeremy and Sam for building such a special community.

Those early starts in rural areas. It felt like I had the entire South Island to myself.

Riding through sunrise on Day 4, descending as the first light hit the snow on Mt Cook. It still gives me goosebumps.

Feeling deeply connected to the land. The Māori belief in the bond between people, land, and nature has always resonated with me—and this trip solidified it.

Raising over $7,000 for the Concussion Legacy Foundation, more than double my original target.

The anticlimactic finish. No fireworks, just a quiet realisation that I’d done something meaningful—and life goes on.

The bits that broke me (a little).

“I got lost in the middle of the Wilderness Trail, screamed into the void, and fully unraveled. No one around for 30km to hear it. Thankfully.”

Day Three’s weather: relentless rain, all gear soaked, electronics dead. Emotionally unraveled in the middle of nowhere.

The first big climb—150km in on Day 1—nearly broke me. Mindset matters, and mine was hanging by a thread.

Riding out of Nelson meant staring at endless deforestation. I remember thinking the hills looked like they were bleeding.

A massive spider on my pillow. Unwelcome bedtime company.

Googling symptoms of trench foot. Enough said.

Finding presence in the process

“I’ve always put people doing ‘cool things’ on a pedestal. But the most grounding part? I finished, and 72 hours later I was back at my desk staring at my inbox. The ride didn’t change who I was—but it reminded me who I am.”

This wasn’t about a finish line. It was about moving, feeling, and processing. I feel incredibly lucky to have spent seven days, solo, riding through the country I love most.

No agenda. No expectations. Just me, my bike, and all the time in the world.

Support Chessie’s fundraising efforts for the Concussion Legacy Foundation

Photography: Jay French
Words: Chessie Rudland
Editor: MAAP