When needs must

The sacrifices on the way to a pro career

Sacrifices are the name of the game for any prospective professional cyclist; suffering in training, saying no to that second piece of cake and having the torso of a pre-pubescent girl are some of the more obvious ones. There are many more which I, as an amateur racing in France and looking to climb that ladder, endure on a daily basis, sacrifices that to an outsider might seem insignificant but which in fact are real life forfeits that affect our daily lives.

Living in France and giving in to the language was crucial for me. Hidden beneath hilarious misunderstandings (I told my DS in December that I was “horny for the approaching season”), there can be serious cases of isolation if you’re completely ‘ sans la langue’. You’re effectively doing a sponsored silence but you can’t even write anything down. And having a fellow English speaker around only hinders you from learning French.

I lived in a caravan last year. It taught me a lot, not least that being in an environment with a temperature range akin to the desert is not my forté. I’m not the most social animal but there came a point – somewhere between talking French to the cows in the neighbouring field, and classing ‘doing the recycling’ as a social outing – where I realised I needed some human contact. It drove me onwards in my learning of the French language.

Riders often miss friends and family but being emotionally dead inside, I’ve never had that issue. Personally, I miss crumpets. On the subject of food, you should prepare your taste buds for a belligerent barrage of ghastly grub. Today’s (and in fact every day’s) pre-race menu reads: ‘Plain pasta with a side of ambiguous meat’ and this shall endure as long as

Riders oft en miss friends and fa mily but being emotionally dead inside, I’ve never had that iss ue. Personally, I miss crumpets

men in Lycra ride bikes in France. It’s important to remember that “ice-cream makes you fat but cheese is good”, “nuts are bad for you” and “energy drink is only for races over 200km”. I could write a whole piece on these golden (low fat) nuggets of wisdom but it would probably lead me to despair, and certainly to an eating disorder. From experience I feel that the number of ‘laugh or cry’ moments that cyclists experience are well above that of the average person. Greater risks reap greater rewards but sometimes it can feel as though entering the cycling world is like jumping into a raging river and being swept downstream, hoping you land on a tropical beach and the piranhas don’t eat you. A comfortable and safe existence, it isn’t.

I remember heading abroad for the first time to ‘live the dream’ in 2011. It turns out that ‘the dream’ was sharing a double bed with two other mates, in the one-bed apartment of a chain-smoker (the décor was a charming nicotine yellow), enjoying the use of a toilet with no door and paying a not insignificant amount for the privilege. The pig farm next door only smelt dreadful when there was a southerly breeze which was, naturally, most days.

Another time, on arriving at a new pad, I was told that we’d soon have a balcony and a double garage installed for the bikes, hence the door-sized hole in the wall covered with a board. When I left, seven months later, there was a door-sized hole in the wall covered by a board and approximately 50 bricks stacked outside.

There’s only so much own-brand stock that a man can take and sometimes – and forgive me world for my consumerism – I have to splash out on some middle-class yoghurts or something. A rider’s perception of what is normal to spend on edible goods and what is acceptable to spend on shiny bicycle trinkets is disturbingly warped. In short, if you want financial security then cycling is probably not for you.

All of these stories highlight one key element that you have to be prepared to sacrifice as a full-time cyclist: control. As an athlete your entire existence hinges on control; from diet to training regimes, sleeping habits to bike geometry. But when it comes to living it out in the real world, you just can’t control it all. Your DS might make a bad call but you do what you’re told because it’s your job. You might get ill two days before your target event or, most heart-breaking of all, have a mechanical problem just shy of your biggest ever win. It can be hard to handle the disappointments when you know that the smallest thing can change your entire future. But you must surrender control, come out with your hands above your head and say “Luck has beaten me this time”, then try again tomorrow.