Wake Up Calls and Perspective

I believe everything happens for a reason. Sometimes, if you’re not paying attention, something significant has to happen to make you get the message. Let me share a recent experience.

Through the fall, I had started feeling disheartened about cycling. I wondered if it was time to step away from the sport—at least competitively. I’ve been riding for a long time, and I thought maybe I had done everything I needed to on the bike. Perhaps it was time to shift my energy elsewhere. I even questioned whether I had lost my passion for cycling.

I began exploring other activities, which isn’t unusual for me. Even when I’m riding, I like to mix things up, and I’ve taken extended breaks before—sometimes even years—to focus on different sports. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt this way. There were also certain things in the cycling community that had been bothering me, and I thought stepping away for a while might be a good way to reassess. Maybe, when I was ready to return with a fresh perspective and a better attitude, I would.

So, I took a long break from cycling, spending my time running and trying new activities. But deep down, I’ve always loved the speed and freedom of riding, the community it brings, and the pure joy of the sport. I’ve met so many amazing people through cycling. I realized my frustration might have just been exhaustion or a temporary shift in mindset.

I committed to restarting on January 1st, but if I was being honest, my attitude hadn’t completely turned around. As the date approached, I knew I had made a promise to myself, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. And that’s when life stepped in with a wake-up call.

At the end of December, I woke up with an extremely injured knee. One of the activities I had been doing resulted in a torn meniscus—bad enough that my knee would lock. Not only was riding my bike not an option, it wasn’t even a consideration. Suddenly, I panicked. Oh my God, now I really can’t ride my bike.

I tried a short spin around my parking lot, just to see if I could put my knee through the motion. But every time my pedal stroke reached the top, my knee locked. There was no way around it. And in that moment—when I truly couldn’t ride—I had a realization.

Somehow, the universe knew that starting back on January 1st with lackluster passion wasn’t the right answer for me. So, it forced me into a situation where I couldn’t ride—and wouldn’t be able to for quite some time. That was the real wake-up call. It made me realize just how much I truly love the sport.

This process isn’t new to me. I coach people through it all the time, and I’ve even experienced it myself over 26 years of riding. That’s a long time to be dedicated to something without experiencing ebbs and flows, and I understand that. But moments like this give you the chance to step back and ask: How did I get to this place? and What do I need to change moving forward to approach things in a way that serves me best at this stage of my life?

This injury forced me to reflect on what I love about cycling, what I’m looking for, and what adjustments I need to make. And when you suddenly can’t do any activity at all, you gain a unique perspective. You’re not caught up in the grind, not exhausted from training—you simply have the time, space, and energy to see things clearly. That’s when I truly understood: I still love this sport. It just needs to evolve a bit to fit this chapter of my life.

As much as an injury sucks, sometimes you need a severe wake-up call—something that forces you to stop, sit down, and honestly assess how you feel without distractions or outside influences. In a way, I’m grateful for this time. I see now that it was necessary. I had been feeling unsettled and anxious, but this pause has given me clarity, both in my mind and heart.

And as we all know, the most difficult situations often bring us back to our center. That’s not a bad thing at all.