It’s that time again. Strava is quietly judging you. Your Garmin has 29 un-synced rides from March. Your friend just posted a year-end montage that includes drone footage and emotional piano music. And you? You’re thinking, “Was that one ride in April technically a gran fondo?” Let’s take a moment to look back — at the power, the pain, and the pepperoni-fuelled glory.
The power: sometimes imaginary
You did a couple FTP tests. You screamed into a towel during one of them. You bragged about your watts per kilo like it was your credit score. Were they good watts? Maybe. Were they accurate? No one really knows — but your ego grew two sizes.
Also, let’s not forget: your favourite training metric was “vibes.”
The pain: mostly your own fault
There was the early spring ride where you wore summer gloves out of spite. The mid-summer death loop “for fun.” The gravel ride that started as a gentle meander and ended in a swamp, questioning your life choices.
You bonked. You cramped. You cried into a half-melted Stroopwafel. You googled “can you DNF a solo ride?”
And yet… you smiled. Later. Much later.
The pizza stops: spiritual recovery
Some people ride for glory. You rode for garlic knots.
You became a connoisseur of petrol station snacks and small-town bakeries. You planned entire routes around cafés. You know which hill pairs best with a flat white and which descent demands post-ride fries. This is peak performance.
The kit: a masterpiece of delusion
You layered. You colour-matched. You declared war on sock height norms. One time you wore arm warmers and leg warmers and still said “I feel pretty aero today.”
You bought one jersey “for gravel” that cost more than your bed. Worth it.
The numbers: cooked
You said you’d ride 8,000km. You hit 5,374. You counted the grocery runs. You once turned on Strava after your café stop just to capture “active time.”
But hey, you did 76 hours of strength training… if we include foam rolling and that one YouTube Pilates video you watched lying down.
The friends, the fails, the finish lines
You made memories. You dropped someone on a climb (accidentally). You got dropped two minutes later (deserved). You finished a century ride in headwind. You got a KOM on a descent you’ll never do again.
You repaired friendships over post-ride burritos. You forgave wheel-suckers. You healed — emotionally and quad-wise.
🎉 Final thoughts
So no, you didn’t ride as much as you said. But you showed up. You rode through rain, sun, fog, and whatever that week in October was. You learned things. You ate things. You wore things you’ll regret.
And you’re still here — dreaming about next year, new goals, and the ultimate sock setup.
Here’s to 2026: more rides, more snacks, more lies about elevation gain.
