Here are the seven scientifically accurate stages of signing up for a spring race.
1. Optimism (the delusion)
You see the event. The date is far enough away that anything feels possible. You’re full of beans. Your legs feel fast walking to the fridge.
You sign up. You announce it. You buy a fresh pair of socks.
You say things like “this will motivate me to train consistently.”
You are already doomed.
2. Spreadsheet euphoria
The plan begins. Colour-coded. Week by week. Base, build, peak.
You download apps. You schedule rest days like a reasonable adult.
You make a nutrition strategy. You Google “how many grams of protein is too many if I’m just sitting on the couch thinking about training?”
You are elite. You are organised. You are a god.
3. The motivational wobble
One week in: cold. Second week: dark. Third week: existential.
Your long ride becomes a medium ride becomes a low-effort Zwift spin while watching Bake Off.
You miss one session. Then two. Then your spreadsheet haunts you like a disappointed parent.
You consider revising the goal to “just finish.”
4. The recommitment montage
Suddenly it’s real. You get serious again.
Intervals are hit. Core work begins. You film yourself doing planks. You play the Rocky theme music.
You eat a salad and feel smug for 11 minutes.
You post “Getting there 💪” with no context. You are definitely not getting there.
5. Equipment panic
The race is weeks away. Your bike starts making a noise.
Your shoes feel wrong. Your helmet looks “too last season.”
You convince yourself a new chainring will unlock fitness.
You spend 3 hours comparing tyres.
You forget to actually ride the bike.
6. FTP denial
Someone mentions testing.
You pretend not to hear.
You finally attempt it. The results are… honest. Painfully honest.
You try again, this time after a better breakfast. It’s somehow worse.
You Google: “can FTP be faked convincingly,” “how to look fast in photos,” and “race day sandbagging etiquette.”
You decide power is a social construct.
7. Race week chaos
Suddenly it’s here.
You haven’t packed. Your front derailleur picks this exact moment to act possessed.
You develop a mysterious knee twinge. You try on every kit combination ever made.
You spend 90 minutes pre-race cleaning your bike as a form of emotional therapy.
You say “I’m just doing it for fun” but your heart rate monitor disagrees.
Spring races are never just about racing
They’re about overcommitting, mildly regretting it, and doing it anyway.
You might suffer. You might thrive. You might cry while trying to eat a gel sideways in a headwind.
But you’ll show up. You’ll pedal. And at some point, hopefully before the cramps, you’ll remember why you signed up in the first place.
And then, obviously, you’ll immediately sign up for another one.
