Finding Success in a Changing World

The structure of the sport can be relentless. Weekly weigh-ins. World championship level competition at nearly every race. Racing at inconvenient times. No real breaks. Over time, this grind takes a toll, not just on the body, but on the mind as well.

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This is something I struggle with personally. As the sport evolves, I am still learning how to adapt alongside it. I ride about 30 percent more volume than I did a few years ago. My power numbers from one to sixty minutes have improved by roughly ten percent. Objectively, I am stronger than I have ever been. I feel it when I ride. I see it in the data.

Yet my race results do not necessarily reflect this progress. What once qualified as a strong five minute effort a few years ago is now something riders sustain for thirty minutes or more. A small group of athletes possess fitness that far exceeds the rest of the field, making nearly every race feel like a FTP test if it is long enough to become attritional. I know, realistically, that I will never beat certain individuals in a pure fitness battle.

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Accepting that reality is difficult, especially as someone who once genuinely believed I could win an eSports World Championship. When improvement no longer translates into results, it is easy to feel demoralized and to question the point of continuing. Walking away can feel tempting when winning the biggest races seems out of reach.
 

Redefining Success

Instead, I am learning that I need to redefine success.
If I want to stay engaged, motivated, and present in
the sport, I must find wins beyond race results. That
does not mean abandoning ambition or lowering
standards. It means trusting that the right outcomes
will come if I focus on the process rather than the
podium.

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I need to set goals that do not depend on other
people. I cannot control who shows up to race or how
strong they are. I can control my effort, how I spend my time, and the type of athlete and person I choose to be. When things do not go as planned, I am learning to treat those moments not as failures, but as feedback. Progress is rarely linear, and growth often comes cloaked in disappointment.

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This shift requires building habits: small, daily actions repeated consistently that shape who I am becoming. Progress comes from quiet consistency: showing up when motivation fades, doing the work when no one is watching, and trusting that these efforts compound over time. It requires learning to take pride in the work itself, not just the result. The process must matter more than the finish line.

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It also demands a new level of mental toughness. Changing my mindset is challenging when I am accustomed to being at the front of nearly every race. Effort does not always lead to victory, and comparison is an easy trap to fall into. But this is where resilience is built, where we must choose persistence in spite of everything. 

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For me personally, there is more at stake than simply racing bikes. The lessons extend beyond the sport and into life itself. I am setting an example for my children every day, showing them what it looks like to adapt, to persevere, and to keep moving forward when circumstances change. One’s true character is not revealed when conditions are perfect, but when they are not. The work can feel lonely, the effort sometimes can go unnoticed, and few people may be there to applaud, yet we continue anyway. 
 

Surpassing Expectations

Sometimes you reach a goal you never knew you possessed. The quiet days when it feels like nothing is happening are not wasted. They are stored away, waiting to surface in a single moment.
 

A couple of months ago, while riding up Alpe du Zwift (a 12.2 km climb with 1,036 meters of elevation), I experienced one of those moments. My coach assigned a target power that seemed beyond my capabilities. However, I decided to commit and see what would happen.

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And you know what? My body never faltered. My mind stayed calm and focused as I clicked through all 21 switchbacks, one by one. As I approached the top and realized I still had strength left, disbelief set in. I was suffering, but I was strong, truly strong in a way I had never experienced before.

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That effort did not come out of nowhere. It was built over years: structured training, hard races, disciplined nutrition, and consistent work when progress was invisible. My coach had been there for it. He believed in me, and I trusted that his belief was earned. That trust gave me permission to believe in myself just a little more than I otherwise would have.

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When the ride ended, it felt like one of the greatest accomplishments of my cycling career. There was no podium and no results sheet. It was just me, alone in my basement, riding up a virtual mountain. And yet, it mattered more than any of my race success. I had not achieved a goal I had been chasing; I had discovered a version of myself I did not know was possible.





 

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That ride reminded me that success is not defined solely by winning. It is defined by commitment, resilience, and the willingness to keep going. That day showed me who I can become, and that is the version of success I am choosing to chase.