BEHIND THE FILTER

Frustrated with the sepia-tinged perfection of cycling Instagram accounts, Olympic gold medallist Elinor Barker runs down her real daily routine in all its slovenly detail

8.00

– My (first) alarm goes off. I don’t need to be up until 8.30. However, I was not fortunate enough to be born a morning person, so it takes me a few snoozes to remember my name, where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing today.

First up is breakfast, almost always a big bowl of porridge. I briefly consider emulating the Insta-style mix of seeds and fruits arranged in straight lines over the top, but decide I’m too hungry for that level of patience and reach for the Nutella instead.

While I’m drinking my coffee with frothed milk lumped on top, I scroll through social media and see my fellow cyclists have been up for hours, finished their art-topped lattes, completed a core workout, become fluent in Mandarin and are halfway round their (longer than what I have planned) training loops already. I put my shorts on and resolve that my new life as a world-dominating early riser starts tomorrow.

9.30 – I head out to meet my training group and we ride together chatting. I have some sprints to do, so everybody takes it in turns to race (beat) me.

A few hours later, I’m riding home. My efforts went well and I’m in a good mood, so I start planning a million productive things I can do before I head to the gym this afternoon. By the time I’ve showered and eaten lunch, the endorphin high has almost worn off. I can’t seem to remember any of the jobs that were so important half an hour ago, and neither can I be bothered. I tell myself I’ll just have a 10-minute chill before I snap into action.

14.00 – Thirty-two Whatsapp messages and three pieces of toast later, I’m no closer to recalling my mental to-do list, and it’s time to leave.

Gym usually follows a similar pattern of emotions; confusion mixed with a little bit of dread – considering I’m expected to lift so much weight when my legs hurt just to stand up. This is followed by repeating “the sooner you do it, the sooner it’s over” in my head to convince myself to stop foam rolling just to look busy and to actually get started. By about halfway, this is all replaced with thoughts of “this isn’t so bad,” and by the time I leave, I’m feeling better than when I started.

17.00 – Heading home and back on that endorphin high, I plan the rest of the evening. I’m cooking for one of my best friends, and intend that by the time she arrives I’ll have my hair and make-up done, dinner on the table and will have written 10 important emails.

I do none of those things. Remembering that my muscles move at half speed after a heavy gym session, I give myself a few minutes to recuperate in the kitchen before tackling the stairs. I eat a Babybel and an ice lolly, for reasons that have nothing to do with nutritional value and everything to do with convenience.

18.35 – I only head upstairs to shower when I get the “on my way” text and realise that hair-washing is out the window. When Hannah arrives, I’m wearing joggers and half a bottle of dry shampoo. We’re still around an hour away from eating anything.

I’m making us a vegan meal I saw online that looked nice. I’m unsure about its protein content, so I’m adding chicken. Hannah, an eternal optimist, describes it as having a “delicate flavour” which means none at all. I tell myself that it’s important to be eating meat now, and I’ll make up for it by becoming a plant-based eco-warrior once my cycling career is over. And maybe get some cooking lessons while I’m at it.

22.00 – Hannah leaves. The perfect chance to get straight to bed in preparation for my new-found life as a morning person. I’m about to clean my teeth when I get a sudden bolt of energy and remember my entire to-do list from this morning, which suddenly seems 10 times more important than it did in the light of day. It’s OK though, I say to myself: I can get it all done in 20 minutes and have an early night.

23.30 – That went quickly and I now feel more awake than I have done all day. I’ve cleared my inbox, put new tyres on my road bike and researched the distance and profile of a race I probably won’t even do. I force myself to go to bed, my mind whirring with plans.

When I’m still awake just after midnight, I decide that I need my sleep if I’m going to train well tomorrow, so adjust my morning alarm.

It’s OK though, because tomorrow I am definitely going to get an early night. Probably.

“My efforts went well and I’m in a good mood, so I start planning a million productive things I can do”