Editor's Note: Last week, Olympic medalist and three-time world champion track cyclist Kelly Catlin died by suicide at the age of 23. Catlin was a specialist in the team pursuit on the track, a pro road racer for Rally UHC Pro Cycling, and a graduate student at Stanford University. Her Rally teammate, Kirsti Lay, wrote a letter to Kelly's parents, Mark and Carolyn Catlin, sharing stories from her years of racing and rooming with Kelly. With Lay's permission, and in memory of Kelly Catlin, BICYCLING has reprinted it here.
Mark & Carolyn,
I met you both two summers ago when you hosted our team for those 10 days at your summer farm. You probably don’t remember me since there were a lot of us (!!), but in an attempt to describe myself—I was the one who begged to mow your lawn with your riding mower and became a beekeeper with Colin [Kelly was a fraternal triplet; Colin Catlin is her brother—Ed.]. You made us feel incredibly welcome and at home during that camp and it was full of memories I will cherish forever. I could see your family was full of love and kindness the minute I met you both.
I wanted to write you because your daughter meant a lot to me and I felt it would help to share the Kelly I knew and loved. I know nothing I write will make it easier, or do her justice. Kelly was beyond my simple words on paper. She was everything.
I first met Kelly because she was my team pursuit competitor. I never got a chance to interact with her at the track but I was quite excited to get to know her once I knew we would be teammates on Rally. She was my teammate from the start, and we were going on four years together this year. Our first project together, I actually roomed with her. I immediately noticed she was very regimented in her routine. I remember waking up the first morning and she Spidermanned out of bed in only a way that Kelly could do, brushed her teeth, folded her pajamas, made her bed without a wrinkle to be seen, and I was still pushing snooze on my alarm! It was just perfectly Kelly.
Over the years, I started to get to know Kelly. She took longer than most to open up. I’m very dramatic and talkative, and she would always look at me with a raised eyebrow. But I like to think we formed a friendship that I would never had the opportunity to do if it weren’t for cycling. Kelly was exceptionally brilliant as you know, and I would love to sit and ask her question after question and then immediately call home after and say, “Guess what Kelly told me today!” It became a regular thing for us during the summer in Belgium. The thing is, I often tell the team “Kirsti facts” which are completely made up and false. Everyone used to believe me until Kelly was around—then one raised eyebrow, and I would be caught out. I think she started giving me a taste of my own medicine though, because one day I was so mindblown by her stats, I had to ask if it were true, and she just gave me a shoulder shrug and a tiny smirk. But of course I believed it anyways, because it was Kelly!
Kelly was unapologetically herself and I loved her for it. She explained to me one afternoon how she was writing a book and went into great detail of what it was about. She lost me within the first 30 seconds of the plot, but I do remember how her eyes lit up and how she started talking with her hands and the more excited she got the faster she spoke. I asked her if I could have a signed copy knowing she was going to be the anonymous author and she flatly replied, “No.” I still was trying to convince her but I don’t think I was making any ground.
Your daughter was exceptional at everything, but she was also incredibly kind and had a quiet strength about her that made her a light in our cycling team. One summer I got injured on a project and so I was relegated to the trainer. I remember Kelly going to set her bike up next to mine, opting out of the team’s amazing ride planned for the day because she “thought I could use some company.” I don’t know anyone who would do that, especially in 32-degree C heat. She knew I was having a rough go, and wouldn’t let me ride alone. That meant a lot to me.
I miss her. I miss having her memorize our ride routes using Google Maps satellite photos because she didn’t trust my Garmin. I miss seeing her drink a large glass of milk at supper, or ordering a salad at team burger night because she liked the texture better. I miss her reprogramming our WiFi code at our Airbnb because we were too impatient to look for the WiFi paper. I miss her shaking her head at me, or scratching her head and calling my ideas absurd. I miss trying to convince her to become a Canadian so she could be on my team pursuit team. I miss trying to give her a hug, only to have her keep jumping away. I finally got her to accept one last summer, even if she had her arms pinned to the sides and said “Okay go—let’s get this over with!” :) I just miss her.
I take comfort in the fact that she enjoyed our team and had good memories with us over the years. She told me the last time I saw her that for the first time in a while she had felt part of a team and enjoyed the experience—it was actually fun. We loved her. She made our team complete.
I believe Kelly is at peace now even if I struggle to comprehend why she couldn’t see how special she was that it was worth staying. I do know that heaven gained an incredible angel. An angel that is brilliant, kind and compassionate, one that is thoughtful and has a quiet strength we were only so lucky to have witnessed. Thank you for raising such a special girl. I will never forget her.
Love,
Kirsti
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255.
The Catlin family and USA Cycling have set up a memorial fund in Kelly Catlin’s name. To donate, visit usacycling.org/foundation/kelly-catlin-fund.
