An ode to a Helmet
14 April 2026
In honor of national helmet days worldwide, BBB Cycling ambassador and gravel cyclist, Mérida Miller wrote this wonderful and enthusiastic blog about her love for and the importance of her cycling helmets.
When BBB told me they were launching a new helmet — the Karma — I was obviously excited. Lighter. Better airflow. A new shape. Upgraded energy!
But somewhere between the excitement and logistics of getting the new helmet before my next race, it hit me: this means putting my Maestro on the shelf for the last time. Of all the things that rotate in and out of a cyclist's life, the helmet is the one I didn't expect to feel sentimental about. It's not glamorous. It just sits on your head and does its job. But that's exactly it- It was always just there, doing its job, through every version of me that showed up to ride.
A note to the reader: I realize how ridiculous it sounds to get sentimental over an inanimate object, but when that object has been with me through long trainings, tears of “I can't finish this race”, terrifying descents, ice cream rides with best friends, and truly the years that shaped me as a cyclist and now a gravel racer. I think it’s only appropriate to reflect with gratitude for all the times it was there for me. Maybe you can’t relate, but for those who can- this one's for you.
The Crack
I was inspecting my Maestro the other day, thinking, do I really need a new helmet? But what about the memories we’ve made?! The scratches, the sweat stains, stickers. I've ridden this helmet hard through Mexican deserts, against Dutch mountains, cried in this helmet at the finish line of a race that got the best of me, spent endless chats with friends, and lots and lots of singing to the Wicked sound track solo.
I was about to google “when do you need to replace a bike helmet?”(I remembered reading somewhere that depending on UV exposure, somewhere between 3–5 years and figured that given I'd spent the last four years riding in the less-than-sunny Netherlands, I was probably fine 😅)
But as I continued looking - there it was. A small crack on the outer shell. I'm still not entirely sure how it got there. My best theories: a branch that whipped back on a rouge Komoot gravel adventure, or the time (one of many) it took a dramatic dive off the table onto very hard Spanish tile. It may always be a mystery. But seeing it made me stop.
And I thought: how long have I been wearing this?
Two and a half years
When BBB Cycling and I first started working together, I had only been on a bike for about eighteen months. I was still figuring out what kind of rider I was — the kind who signs up for a cyclocross race just to find out if that's her thing (it wasn't, particularly, but that's not the point). Back then I was a ride leader, a beginners' coach, someone who showed up for the community before she really knew where her own cycling story was going.
Four months after the cyclocross experiment, I lined up for the Traka with friends — my first real gravel event. Then less than a year after that, I was at the start line of my first gravel race. A year after that, racing internationally and now a semi professional gravel racer.. Learning, failing, and figuring it out with this same helmet on my head. So when I turned it over and saw that crack, what hit me wasn't just oh, I probably need a new helmet. It was the nostalgic weight of everything this brain protector had quietly witnessed. But what is it that makes a helmet different from everything else in your cycling wardrobe?
Glasses - I have several pairs, some lost in rivers, most swapped out depending on the light, the terrain, the vibe. Bikes, with love, have come and gone. Kit rotates through seasons. But the helmet? It was always the same one. In every mid ride selfie, every start line, every finish, it's there. A constant in the background of who I've been becoming as a rider.
It came with me to Girona — the first time I'd ever travelled alone for cycling (or any holiday). I arrived with my shoes, my helmet, and knowing no one. That same helmet traveled with me when I made the big move from Amsterdam to Girona to follow my cycling goals and love 2 years later. It's been to Mexico, Sweden, Spain, Belgium, and across more kilometres of the Netherlands than I could ever count. It's heard the laughs and the grinding teeth and the silence (erm, grunts) of really hard climbs. It rocks stickers of my first real cycling community- No Ordinary Women - who not only helped me to become a better rider but also where I met some of my closest friends.
And scratches - some I know the story behind, and some that are just... there. Like scars on your legs that you don’t really know the origins but assume it was from a fun adventure!
A Note on Helmet Safety (from someone who should have checked sooner
I have a history of extending the lifespan of helmets well past their prime. Snowboarding, horse riding, and now apparently cycling 😅. Your brain is the one piece of kit that truly cannot be replaced. The helmet is how you protect it. It is always worth investing in, always worth replacing on time, and always worth taking seriously. Even when it's inconvenient, even when it looks fine, even when you've gotten attached.
So in the spirit of keeping people riding longer (and a safer) here are some tips on when to replace your cycling helmet:
· After any crash involving an impact to the helmet — even if it looks fine on the outside, the foam inside may be compromised
· When you notice visible cracks, dents, or deep scratches that could affect structural integrity
· After 3–5 years of use, or sooner if you ride frequently in sunny conditions — UV exposure breaks down the outer shell over time
*Note to future self: inspect your helmet regularly. It's doing a big job quietly. Check in on it.
The hard truth about retiring a helmet is that it can't live on beyond your time with it. You can't pass it on. It can't be repurposed. Once it's done, it's done — which makes saying goodbye feel oddly final.
Enter the Karma
And then it landed, four days before my next race, The Hills. A race whose name should be called “Tour of the 17 steep climbs (for which you will probably walk at least 3 of them)”.
I wore the Karma for the first time reckoning the course and immediately felt the difference-. The airflow alone. The lightness. The update fit. But it looks so clean, too fresh, too new. The night before the race I slapped a NOW sticker I'd been hoarding away and gave it a little “let's go!” kiss. Trying to forge a new partnership as soon as possible.
The next morning on the start line, I wasn't thinking about the helmet or the lack of stickers. And that's how you know it's a good one- when it disappears. When it stops being a thing you notice and just becomes part of you, leaving you free to focus on your nerves and the thousand other people about to embark on 120km and 2500m of Italian adventure. On course, as the temperatures rose and the “hills” kept coming, I was genuinely grateful for the airflow, for the lightness, for the feeling that my helmet was working with me rather than just along for the ride.
The Maestro would have been fine. It always was. But the Karma felt like a new chapter — lighter, freer, and ready for whatever comes next. Which is, I think, exactly what new chapters are supposed to feel like.
International Helmet Day
So on this International Helmet Day, I wanted to take a moment to say thank you. To the helmet that was there for the beginning of all of it through the dorky misfitting jersey errors of a new rider to now a professional amateur gravel racer.
You did your job beautifully, Maestro. Time to rest.
And to the Karma: let's make some memories.
Photos by @castelli_sog