I kicked off the season in Valencia, but just a few days before the race, I got sick. I still decided to start, thinking it would help me get my race legs back, and even though it wasn’t the best experience, I came out of it okay. Then came Strade Bianche, and with it, a crash that knocked me into a hole, physically and mentally. I found it hard to accept the setback or give myself the proper rest I probably needed because all the major races were coming up fast. I kept pushing and made some progress, but I never really got back into top shape. It felt like something was always holding me back. The crash itself was one thing, but the aftermath—the small injuries that show up when you resume high intensity, like knee pain—was really frustrating. That one especially drives me crazy.
Processing disappointment and mental spirals
When things don’t go the way I planned, I feel deep disappointment and even a kind of emptiness. It’s the sense of not achieving my goals after months of hard work and sacrifice. There are moments when I wonder if I’m wasting my time—or worse, the time and effort of the people who support me. Even when I know that some things are out of my control, I still mentally punish myself when things go wrong. It takes me hitting rock bottom before I can flip that negative flow and start turning it into motivation again.
I don’t really have a set strategy for dealing with setbacks, but I do allow myself to feel all the emotions—sadness, frustration, anger. It sucks, but that moment of grieving helps me move on and shift my focus to the next goal. I’m incredibly lucky to have a husband who understands me so well and helps me gain perspective when I’m stuck. One of the things we do together is zoom out—look at life from a wider lens and focus on gratitude. It could always be worse, and the fact that I’m still here and still racing is something I don’t take for granted.
Still, I catch myself in unhelpful thought patterns. I start thinking that I’ve disappointed people, that I’m no longer appreciated or liked. It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, but in those moments, my self-esteem drops so low. I feel this desperate need to prove myself, to prove my worth again. Even though I try to observe my thoughts and not take them as truth, it’s crazy how much discomfort can shake your confidence.
When I lose momentum
I don’t think I ever fully lose motivation—but I do lose momentum. That usually happens when I’m trying too hard to make sure everything goes right. Instead of flowing through things naturally, I shift into this controlling mindset where I obsess over every detail. It blocks the free-spirited, open approach to life that I normally try to carry.
People often ask if I take a full step back from cycling to reset. I try, but it’s getting harder every year. The sport is evolving so quickly that you feel pressure to stay invested all the time, looking for every small gain. I know there needs to be a line between personal life and professional life, but the habits we pick up—those little things we do every day for performance—slowly change how we live.
Still, I’m lucky that I genuinely love this sport. When things feel overwhelming, I turn to riding just for fun. Not training—just riding. I’ll go out with friends, no pressure, and that mental and physical reset helps me so much. It reminds me why I started in the first place.
The power of support
The support of my team, my coach, and especially my family plays such a big role in helping me stay grounded. When things don’t go well, the last thing you want is to feel alone. Knowing people have your back makes a huge difference. It gives you the strength to fight through the self-doubt and negativity and keep going.
Over the years, I’ve experimented with all kinds of tools to help me reframe difficult moments—journaling, yoga, breathing practices. Lately, however, I’ve gone back to something really simple: I just let myself cry. When I feel things building up, I stop holding it in. Crying used to feel like a weakness to me, but now I see it as a release, even a kind of healing.
If you’re going through a rough patch…
To any younger rider—or anyone—going through a rough patch, I’d say this: Be patient. Trust the process. You can only take it one day at a time, so focus on what you can do today to make things a little better for yourself. When we start thinking too far ahead, it just messes with our confidence. Slow down. Be kind to yourself. Focus on what you do have rather than what you’ve lost, and little by little, that will bring some sunshine back into your path.
If there’s one mantra I hold onto when things are tough, it’s exactly that: One day at a time.
