Six minutes later you’re chasing a dog, sprinting a traffic light, and racing your own shadow. You’re sweaty, twitchy, and already halfway to a new threshold PR.
Welcome to Zone Confused.
Here’s how to escape the chaos and finally train like a functioning human instead of a distracted squirrel with caffeine issues.
Know what zone you’re in (and why it matters)
Zone 2: This is the chill zone. Conversational pace. Low stress. Mitochondria party. Your legs are working, but your soul is at peace.
Zone 3: This is the no-man’s-land of progress. Not easy, not hard. It’s just… medium.
Zone 4 and up: Pain. Glory. Possibly crying.
Zone 2 builds endurance and fitness over time.
Zone 3 builds frustration and the ability to feel slightly guilty every time you look at your data.
The goal: stay in Zone 2. The problem: literally everything else.
Stop chasing that one person in front of you
It doesn’t matter if they’re on a hybrid in jeans. It doesn’t matter if they passed you with a smile.
This is not your battle.
Your ego is not part of your training plan.
Let them go. Breathe. Repeat the mantra: “I’m building a base, not beef.”
Disable all your devices (except the ones telling you you’re slow)
Turn off Strava live segments.
Turn off your power PR alerts.
Turn off whatever beep tells you “NEW MAX 1-MINUTE WATTAGE!” every time you stand up to stretch.
You’re not here for glory. You’re here to ride like a serene aerobic camel.
Embrace boredom. Boredom is working.
Embrace the zone 2 face
Zone 2 doesn’t look impressive.
You’ll be passed. Frequently. Possibly by a child on a scooter. Possibly by a swan.
People will assume you’re recovering from surgery.
You’ll want to explain. Don’t.
Your face will say: “I’m fine.”
Your ego will scream: “I could go faster.”
You must silence it with oat bars and discipline.
Snacks are your new intervals
You want to surge? Don’t.
You want to attack that hill? Absolutely not.
You want excitement? Eat a fig roll.
Zone 2 is snack zone. Fuel the slow fire. Let your mouth do the work your legs are tragically not allowed to.
Remember: training is not a performance
Your training ride is not a test. It’s not content. It’s not proof. It’s not a public referendum on your fitness. It’s literally you riding a bike on purpose at a pace that looks like you’re having a mechanical.
That’s the work. That’s the growth. That’s the mitochondria becoming small gods inside your legs.
Ok fine, it’s hard
Yes, it’s weirdly hard to go slow. Yes, everything in your body wants to “just push a bit.” Yes, your soul itches after 30 minutes of being overtaken by pensioners and rollerbladers.
But you’ll finish the ride and feel… good. Not dead. Not cracked. Not trembling at the fridge.
Just ready to go again tomorrow.
And that is the power of Zone 2.
Zone Squirrel™
Or, you know, just fully embrace Zone Squirrel™: the training philosophy for cyclists powered by instinct, insecurity, and the faint scent of baked goods.
Forget structure. Chase that leaf. Surge past that toddler on a balance bike. Attack a hill because it looked at you funny.
Zone Squirrel™ doesn’t wear a heart rate monitor. It wears vibes.
It fuels with panic snacks and finishes every ride having done both too much and absolutely nothing.
Your data? Incoherent.
Your recovery? Non-existent.
Your spirit? Unbroken.
Zone Squirrel™: because sometimes the real training plan is the chaos we make along the way.
