It's mid-January, and preseason training is in full swing. Time flies, in many ways. I take the elevator back up to put on my gloves. It's winter here too, though considerably more pleasant than back home. It's Sunday, 9:50 a.m. For a change of pace, we're having our weekly group ride. A diverse mix of endurance athletes, seven of them from all over the world. Before we set off, I lend a hand to a colleague who's having some trouble; we're meeting at La Comuna.
A quick discussion about the route, a bit of grumbling about the surprisingly cool temperatures, and then we're finally off. Flat, rolling, mountainous: Northern Spain, a paradise for cyclists. I spot friends on mountain bikes. I wonder if they've got power meters mounted?
A paradise for cyclists: the Spanish sun draws many athletes to the south. (Photo: Marcel Hilger )
The first few meters are over. We chat, get to know each other. As usual, the group consists of people whose names I recognize, at best, from Instagram. Other faces are completely unfamiliar. Sport, or rather, the group bike ride, offers a wonderful opportunity to get to know each other, exchange ideas, and learn from one another. Two hours of relaxed small talk—I usually only experience that on Tinder.
Unfortunately, it took a second attempt to get my clipless pedal to engage. Missed opportunity, second row. The conversation is pleasant. A star of our sport tells me about the strain she endured at the beginning of winter due to illness. But she's slowly starting to feel like training again. She's looking forward to the upcoming training camp. At the same time, the start of the season is getting closer and closer. Despite her helmet, buff, and cycling glasses, I recognize an old acquaintance in her expression: pressure.
The triathlete's life insurance: basic training in winter. (Photo: Marcel Hilger )
Last year I found myself in a similar situation. My running was still noticeably uneven, and my recovery from knee surgery had been delayed. Endurance sports, with all their measuring instruments, were relentless; the machine was grinding away. Despite this, in the relentless pursuit of world ranking points, I decided in favor of an early start to the season. Today I know better.
No, today I'm in good spirits. So far, everything is going perfectly. A new kind of gratitude for health, which I usually take for granted. Suddenly it's tangible and carries me through everyday life. To our delight, the sun is even making an appearance. The first windproof vests are stowed in my jersey pocket, and I do the same with my gloves. Yes, life feels light this Sunday morning. A glance at the bike computer, and I have to swallow hard. Definitely too light.
Girona thrives on tourism. The town of 100,000 inhabitants is considered the new Mecca of cycling. To meet the demand, exquisite cycling boutiques are springing up everywhere. Even the smallest real estate agency displays a fixie in its window. Professional athletes living here are easily recognizable by their strict separation of training and appearances. They usually ride in small groups. A certain degree of individualization is becoming increasingly prevalent in endurance sports. Tailor-made training plans, supported by performance diagnostics and feedback loops, are readily available these days. Consequently, a coach is always present, at least in spirit.
I, too, enjoy this kind of remote support. I, too, want to delegate responsibility. The subtle art of delegating decisions to a trusted person is the anchor of my motivation. Three hours are on the training schedule today, accompanied by a wattage target. After 45 minutes, I'm significantly below that. That'll trigger a comment in the blue app, I'm sure of it. Another five minutes pass. I'm getting increasingly nervous. If this continues, today's workout will have been a complete waste.
Consultants, or rather the species known as trainers, are closely related to policymakers. Depending on the circumstances, their own training philosophy is supported with arguments of varying degrees of validity. It used to be ASAP, meaning "as slow as possible," for the sake of metabolism. Today it's the "time under pressure" theory. Well, what's the real story?
Pace and wattage targets are constant companions. (Photo: Marcel Hilger )
I'm struggling with myself. I'm tense, a little angry. Surely once a week is allowed, a little bit of socializing; after all, I'm not a machine. At the same time, I've set myself ambitious goals for the year that just began. And besides, I'm paying my coach a month for his services. Should I expose myself and leave the cycling group? What do I want, and if so, how many?
My cynicism isn't unfounded; just the day before, I'd wasted a lot of time and energy evaluating my training content. Utopian wattage targets for the first VO2 session of the year—a defeat in what is otherwise a joyful training routine. Professional sports, one of the few seemingly honest benchmarks of modern times.
Sometimes the speedometer races. A decision has to be made. How I deal with stressful situations, where instinct kicks in, depends largely on how at peace I am with myself. Self-confidence is a combination of groundedness and an awareness of my own strengths and weaknesses. If I am aware of my motivations, I minimize the space for doubt. Furthermore, if I manage to realistically assess my abilities, I unlock potential that would otherwise have remained hidden. Because, as ten years of competitive sports taught me, in the end it's all about self-confidence.
Performance data vs. experience: two sometimes contradictory parameters. (Photo: Damien Rosso )
Whether Gen Z or Millennial, it doesn't matter. Yes, I value the opinions of others. I've always admired athletes who cheerfully mask the egomania inherent in competitive sports. By always having a witty remark ready or being found enjoying a non-alcoholic cold drink after a competition. I, too, aspire to become that type of athlete. I want to command respectful glances on the track on Saturdays and be available for a leisurely bike ride on Sundays. I want to make the hard work seem effortless. Easier said than done.
No, let's be honest. Sometimes clear decisions are necessary, even if they're difficult. The grueling intensity on Saturday might leave me in a lactic acid rush, but I'm really stepping outside my comfort zone in my interpersonal relationships. As is so often the case, it's not the training sessions themselves that challenge us in sports. Other aspects truly help us grow: daring to take a slower approach to a long run; admitting that we need external support in our athletic development; or clearly recognizing that a leisurely Sunday morning ride conflicts with my goals.
I shift gears, pull out. A curt goodbye and I'm off. At my own pace. That was tough.
