Naomi Gardoce Wins Again

She flew to Uzbekistan alone.

No crew in the airport line. No crowd waiting on the other side. Just Naomi Gardoce–Nammi to most of us, her bike in a bag, and a country she could only feel from six thousand kilometers away.

That’s actually how the best Filipino stories usually start. One person, far from home, carrying everyone with them.

But there are parts nobody sees from the photos. The medal’s the obvious shot, the hard part was everything that came before it.

At this level, the elite level, everything comes with risk.

That was a quote from Coach Bans Mendoza and for Nammi, the risk had already collected. Now it was time to see what she had left.

PART ONE: The Crash

The crash at the Thailand SEA Games last year didn’t just leave injuries. It interrupted years of work.

“It was heartbreaking,” Nammi tells us. “Not just because of the physical pain, but because of everything that came before it.”

People see race day. Helmets, podiums, medals. They rarely see the years that make those moments possible. Years of choosing training over weekends. Missing races because getting stronger mattered more than collecting results. Showing up to the gym when nobody was watching. Eating right. Sleeping right.

“It felt like two years of all that work disappeared in a snap.”

Even now, talking about it still stirs something.

“There were so many things that were out of my control, and mentally it was one of the hardest moments I’ve ever faced.”

Injuries take more than fitness. They take certainty. Every rider knows what it’s like to trust their body without thinking. A corner is just a corner. A drop is just a drop. The bike responds before your mind has time to question it.

Then something breaks. And suddenly every movement carries a question. Will it happen again?

Recovery wasn’t glamorous, and it wasn’t dramatic either. It was repetitive. “It was showing up every single day, even on the days I didn’t feel motivated.” Progress wasn’t measured in podiums. It was smaller than that. Moving without pain. Getting stronger.

Riding a little farther.

“My first rides weren’t about speed or winning,” she says. “They were about rebuilding.”

The hardest part was the patience. Healing asks athletes to slow down when everything inside them wants to go faster. It asks them to believe in work they can’t see the results of yet.

For Nammi, that belief came from the people around her. Her physical therapist. Her doctor. Coach Bans. Her manager, AK.

And then “they believed I was ready,” she says. “Eventually, I realized I had to believe them too.”

PART TWO: The Race

^{Watch the full video on Naomi Gardoce Facebook Page}

Uzbekistan wasn’t just another international race. It was the answer to a much bigger question: could she stand in the start gate without fear? Could she control her emotions? Could she trust herself again?

She chose to race.

Not because it was easy, but because she needed to know.

The journey there wasn’t simple either. She flew first to Shanghai, then another six hours into Uzbekistan, spending more of the layover worrying about her connection than resting. The hotel was comfortable enough. The food was another story.

“We were served almost the same meals every day,” she recalls. “For high-performance athletes, I honestly don’t think it was enough.”

So she found her own solutions. She bought extra food, snacks, and drinks outside the venue to make sure she stayed fueled. It’s the kind of detail that never makes headlines. But elite performance is built on ordinary decisions, repeated over and over.

And thousands of kilometers from home, she never felt alone.

She updated Coach Bans and AK after every practice run. Her physical therapist reminded her of her warm-up routines. They talked conditions, lines, anything that could help.

“That support made a huge difference,” she says. “It reminded me that I wasn’t carrying everything by myself.”

They also kept her locked on what she could control. No drama. No distractions. Just the process.

That mindset held even after her final run. Even after learning she’d won bronze, Nammi couldn’t stop thinking about one costly mistake on course. She told Coach Bans how much time she believed it cost her.

He didn’t let her sit in it. Instead of dwelling on the mistake, he reminded her to be happy. She’d just become an Asian Championship bronze medalist.

Sometimes athletes need someone else to see what they’ve achieved before they can see it themselves.

PART THREE: The Win

She crossed the line in Uzbekistan without looking for a leaderboard.

There wasn’t one to look for. No hot seat where riders wait for results. No crowd counting down the times. No instant confirmation of where she stood among Asia’s fastest downhill racers.

So Nammi did what she always does. She was already replaying the run in her head. She knew exactly where she’d made mistakes, which sections had cost her time. Podium or not, it almost didn’t matter in that moment.

She already wanted to get back to training.

It wasn’t until an official from the anti-doping committee approached her after the race that she learned the news.

She’d won bronze at the Asian MTB Championships.

Even then, she couldn’t stop thinking about one costly mistake on course. She told Coach Bans how much time she believed it cost her. He didn’t let her sit in it. Instead of dwelling on the mistake, he reminded her to be happy. She’d just become an Asian Championship bronze medalist.

Sometimes athletes need someone else to see what they’ve achieved before they can see it themselves.

It sank in later. The Asian Championships bring together the strongest riders on the continent. Standing on that podium meant far more than a top-three finish.

But her favorite memory came after the race. Not the medal ceremony: dinner.

The riders gathered at the hotel, late, sharing stories, laughing, reliving the day.

“We’re fierce competitors on the track,” she says, “but once the race is over, we’re all friends.” It’s one of mountain biking’s quieter truths. Competition is intense. Community lasts longer.

The Ride Ahead

Looking back, Nammi still doesn’t define herself by medals.

“I always remind myself to stay grounded and stay coachable,” she says.

She wasn’t born into this sport. She started later than many of the riders she now races against. That’s exactly why she hopes her story reaches someone else.

“If you believe in yourself, surround yourself with the right people, stay disciplined, and keep working, amazing things can happen.”

She dreams of racing beyond Asia. Riding the iconic trails of the world. Growing women’s mountain biking in the Philippines.

If my journey can inspire another girl who dreams of racing, then everything I’ve been through has been worth it.

The bronze in Uzbekistan will always be part of Nammi G’s story. But maybe not the biggest part. Because somewhere between the crash in Thailand and that finish line, she recovered something medals can’t measure.

She found her way back to trusting herself.

And for anyone who’s ever had to begin again, after injury, after disappointment, after doubt, that’s the victory that stays long after the podium’s been packed away.

^{Nammi Gardoce is a FLY Racing PH athlete coached by Bans Mendoza. She won bronze at the Asian MTB Championships in Uzbekistan.}