I moved to Tucson. I’m riding 25 hours a week. And I need to eat over 5,000 calories a day – That last one isn’t as fun as it sounds.
Is this what it means to be “pro”?
I’ve never gone all-in on cycling before. The past four years I spent at Marian University, balancing school with cycling – sometimes in that order, sometimes not. I was always jealous of the guys who had the luxury, the freedom, the time, the money…to travel to Tucson (or anywhere warm) for the winter. I was stuck in the Midwest, riding 16-20 hours a week on the trainer. Sure, it could always be worse – I could live in Canada, or Alaska, or somewhere that is too cold or dangerous to ride a bike at all.
I could ride outside until Winter Break in mid-December. And I only had to make it 2 or 3 months until Marian’s Spring Break training camp in Tennessee. But even once racing started in April, it wasn’t uncommon to show up to the line with leg warmers, booties, and a thermal jacket. And not regret keeping them on for the entire race.
In Tucson it’s 70 and sunny. On a bad day it’s 55 and cloudy. The worst is when it snows – a whole 2 inches! – but that only happens once or twice a year. I am lucky, to be living and training in Tucson.
So now that I’m all-in, will it make a difference? This is the question I am constantly asking myself; the weight of the world hanging over my head (it is all in my own head, after all) – will I make it? Will I be better this year? Will my team and I win any races?
I try not to worry about it, but when you’re surrounding by cyclists, and it seems like all you do is ride your bike four hours a day, it’s hard to ignore.
Especially on these long, solo rides – 4, 5, 6 hours in the saddle, doing intervals up Mount Lemmon – it’s hard not to think. What would I rather focus on, the pain in my legs? The dry, desert air scalding my lungs? The knot in my neck that prays to not be craned for another 5 hours tomorrow?
And then there’s the eating. It doesn’t seem healthy, to be forcing down 1,500+ calories in one meal. But that’s what we have to do, isn’t it? I don’t want to go to bed hungry, but I also don’t want to go to bed feeling like I ate an entire turkey.
Maybe I’m just not used to it. Maybe it’s because I’ve never done this before. Maybe it’s just because I’m soft – This sport sucks. Cycling is about suffering. If you don’t want to suffer, leave.
So I’m still adjusting, still struggling, but still staying strong. I’m motivated, determined, but also realistic – I try to take a rest day when I need it, to not push myself too far, to not dig a hole so deep that I might never come out. It’s all going well in reality. These thoughts exist only in my own head. The pressure is internal. No one is forcing me to do this. No one is forcing me to ride my bike 5 hours a day. No one is forcing me to eat super healthy, to be far away from home, and live the life of an ‘amateur pro cyclist’. It sounds stupid (because it is, racing along highways in spandex, eating three bowls of oatmeal a day, and killing yourself to ride 12 mph up a mountain) – but I love it. I love this sport. I love to suffer. And I love suffering in solitude on my bike.