The Sacrifice
There is something deeply painful about understanding what it takes to become an elite cyclist. Not admiring it, not talking about it, not posting about it — but truly understanding it.
I’m not writing this because I think I’ve figured it all out. I’m writing it because I’ve spent enough time chasing it to realize how much it actually costs. I don’t think most people fully see this side of it. It has taken years of introspection — tens of thousands of hours riding alone, pushing max heart rate when there is no one there to see you, alone in thought. I’m not even saying that I fully understand it, because I’m still learning what it takes.
And to be honest, once people do understand the sacrifice, many may decide it’s simply not worth it to them — and I understand that. That doesn’t mean they’re settling. It just means they’re being honest about what they want their life to look like.
But let’s start at the beginning.
The Progression
Most people understand how someone goes from beginner to good. You put in time, you learn, you fail, and you repeat, and if you stay with cycling long enough, you will improve. That part still feels fair.
Even the jump from good to great makes sense because it takes more discipline, more focus, and more consistency. But great to elite is different. A lot of people believe elite cycling is simply what happens when you keep riding for a long time. They think if they just keep logging miles, stacking hours, and grinding, elite will eventually arrive, but that is not always true.
You can ride for years and never become elite. You can train more volume than someone else and still not reach their level. You can give a lot and still stay stuck, because time alone does not create elite cyclists. At some point, quantity stops being enough, and that is when the game changes. From there on, it is not just about how much time you spend on the bike — it is about how well you use that time.
The Lifestyle
Elite cycling is not a level — it is a lifestyle.
People think elite is a performance metric — watts, results, podiums — but it is not. It is a way of organizing your entire life around a standard that most people will never understand. It touches everything: your body, your schedule, your relationships, your recovery, your identity. It stops being something you do and becomes something that starts shaping who you are.
That realization strips away excuses and forces a harder question — not can you become elite, but are you willing to live like someone who has chosen it? My dad taught me that anything worth doing is worth doing well. I wasn’t blessed with much natural talent, but I was taught how to work, so the question becomes: are you willing to devote more to this than anything else — and maybe more than anyone else?
Your life starts organizing itself around performance, and that takes obsession.
The Cost
Elite cycling asks things from your body that ordinary life does not. It asks for effort when you are already depleted, asks you to find another gear when your legs are dead, and asks you to keep going when everything in you is telling you to stop. And the fatigue never fully leaves — it just changes form, until you stop questioning it and start accepting it as part of the cost.
But the physical side is only part of it. The mental and emotional toll runs deeper, and elite cycling can make rest feel guilty, stillness feel threatening, and average feel unacceptable. It can make you feel like you are living in a different world than the people around you, because in many ways, you are.
If you choose exceptional, there will be a cost. There always is. And the cost changes you. Because to become elite, some other part of your life will suffer, and that is why this path can feel haunting. It leaves marks — on your body, your habits, your relationships, and your identity.
The Reality
And once you know what elite requires, you can’t unknow it. That awareness follows you. It’s there when you skip a ride, when you choose comfort, and when you know you could have done more. It doesn’t leave. And once you truly understand what it takes, it becomes painful in a different way, because if you understand what elite cycling demands, then you understand what it demands from you.
The hardest part is not always the work. Sometimes the hardest part is accepting that you know exactly what must be done — that excuses aren't acceptable. That is why this is both a blessing and a curse — a blessing because it gives you access to a version of yourself most people will never meet, an alter ego, some may say. And that is the curse — because once you understand this, you will never again be fully at peace pretending average is enough.
Maybe this is why I created EPIC. Because he can do what Eric can not.
The Loneliness
And the deeper you go, the lonelier it gets. That might be the hardest part of all.
Being an elite cyclist is lonely — not “alone sometimes” lonely, but truly lonely. Because almost no one really understands you. They may admire your fitness and your results, but they don’t understand you. They don’t understand why you can’t just skip a ride, why you can’t just relax, why your standards are so high, or why your mind never shuts off.
Accepting that level of sacrifice can make you feel deeply misunderstood. The people around you may see discipline, but they don’t always see what is underneath it — the choices you make, the things you say no to, the way your mind is always measuring whether you are doing enough, and the quiet weight that comes with carrying that standard every day. Once you accept what this life requires, you start living in a way that fewer and fewer people truly understand.
That is not a casual way to live.
The Truth
And maybe that is the clearest truth: people want what elite cycling gives, but almost no one wants to endure what it takes to become it. Because becoming elite doesn’t just ask for your effort. It demands your body, your mind, your emotions, your time, and your life. It takes over everything.
And once you truly understand that, you may decide you don’t want it after all — and that might be the healthiest decision you could make. Chasing this has come at a cost I still don’t fully know how to measure. But if you still want it, be honest about what you are choosing.
You are not choosing a goal.
You are accepting the lifestyle.
You are acknowledging the cost.
You are willing to feel misunderstood.
And more than anything, you are choosing sacrifice.
Because that is what this has always been about. Not whether you want to be elite. But whether you are willing to accept the sacrifice that comes with trying to become it.
