Alastair Semple Coaching

Saturday’s 10‑mile time trial offered one of those rare moments in an athlete’s journey where the numbers, the sensations, and the bigger picture all align. At 60 years old, this rider—someone I’m proud to coach—produced her best power figures ever. Not just a strong ride, not just a solid effort, but a genuine breakthrough: a new FTP based on her 20‑minute power, and her fastest 10‑mile time of the 2026 season.

That alone is worth celebrating. But the real story goes deeper.

Performance vs. Outcome: Why They’re Not the Same

Despite delivering her strongest ride to date, she finished one minute slower than her personal best from last season. That might seem contradictory at first glance, but it’s a reminder of a truth every athlete eventually learns: speed is influenced by many things we cannot control—weather, course conditions, traffic, equipment changes, and even the simple reality of how fast the day is.

This season she’s riding a new bike and still refining her position. That process takes time. Aero optimisation isn’t a switch—it’s a journey of small adjustments, testing, feedback, and patience. Yet even in gusty, unpredictable conditions, her new Zipp 353 front wheel gave her confidence and stability. She felt planted. She felt safe. She felt fast. That matters.

Perspective Arrives in Unexpected Ways

When the results came in, she was nudged into fourth place by a 12‑year‑old.And instead of frustration, it brought clarity.

It reminded her—and all of us—that racing isn’t just about beating the rider next to you. It’s about celebrating the talent around us, recognising the future of our sport, and grounding ourselves in what truly defines progress.

A young rider delivering a brilliant performance is something to admire. It doesn’t diminish her achievement; it highlights the richness of the racing community she’s part of.

 

The Real Victory: Controlling the Controllables

What mattered most on Saturday wasn’t the placing; it was the performance. She delivered her best-ever power numbers, set a new FTP, recorded her fastest 10 of the season, and rode with real confidence in challenging wind. She’s still refining her position on a new bike, yet she produced her strongest ride to date. That combination of progress, stability, and self-belief shows clearly that her training plan is working and that she’s moving in the right direction.

Why Coaching—and Sticking to the Plan—Matters

Breakthroughs like this don’t appear out of nowhere. They come from months of structured work, steady progression, and a commitment to the process even when motivation fluctuates. Coaching provides direction, accountability, and a long-term view that respects how the body adapts over time. When an athlete trusts the plan, focuses on measurable goals, and keeps showing up, the gains accumulate quietly until a day like Saturday reveals just how far they’ve come.

Goals That Matter Are Goals You Control

Racing teaches us quickly that many factors sit outside our influence: who turns up, the weather, the course. But none of those things define progress. What she can control—her training, her effort, her mindset, her consistency—continues to move forward. Saturday proved she is still improving, still adapting, and still capable of new personal bests, even when the stopwatch doesn’t fully reflect the strength of the ride.

A Season Built on Strength, Confidence, and Purpose

This performance was more than a fast 10. It was a statement that age does not limit potential, that progress is measured in watts and confidence, and that she remains an active, evolving part of a sport enriched by riders of every generation. Most importantly, it was a reminder that the most meaningful victories happen internally—through growth, resilience, and the satisfaction of knowing you are becoming stronger than you were yesterday.

The positive change that happens immediately from riding your bike that is sometimes overlooked, but is key to our wellbeing

A single session of moderate movement changes your brain chemistry within minutes, long before it changes your body. In cycling, that shift happens even faster: the rhythmic, steady nature of pedalling lowers cortisol and calms the sympathetic nervous system, so anxiety and tension ease during and after a ride rather than after weeks of training. Any form of exercise can do this, but cycling’s combination of repetition, breathing control, and outdoor environment amplifies the effect for many riders.

Movement also triggers the release of endorphins and endocannabinoids—the compounds behind the settled, lifted feeling people notice on the spin home or during a quiet stretch of road. Over days and weeks, regular exercise raises levels of BDNF, a protein that supports neuroplasticity and helps regulate mood in the same regions targeted by antidepressants. This is true whether someone rides, runs, lifts, or walks: the brain responds quickly to movement.

Meanwhile, cardiovascular fitness and body composition move on a slower schedule. Visible strength, weight change, and endurance gains take weeks or months to show, which is exactly when most people quit.

The dropout usually comes down to a timing mistake. Someone starts riding for physical results, sees nothing in the mirror after a fortnight, and concludes it isn’t working. The mental results they weren’t measuring—calmer stress responses, clearer thinking, better mood—had already arrived. Track the fast signals rather than the slow ones, and the reasons to keep going become obvious weeks earlier.

The mental‑health case for strength training in a cyclist’s programme

Most people know that endurance exercise lifts mood. Fewer realise that resistance training does the same, and the evidence for it holds up just as well. A meta‑analysis of randomised trials found that resistance exercise produced a significant reduction in depressive symptoms, with effects comparable to those seen in the cardio literature. Separate reviews report similar reductions in anxiety symptoms. Strength training earns its place in the mental‑health conversation on its own merits, not just as a performance add‑on for cyclists.

The mechanisms differ from cardio in ways that matter. Lifting builds a direct sense of physical agency. You attempt a load, you complete it, and your body confirms it can do something it could not do before. That progressive mastery works as a mood regulator because each session gives you concrete, repeatable evidence of your own capability. Cycling improves how you feel in the moment; strength training changes how capable you believe you are over weeks, and that structural confidence accumulates differently.

The accessibility case is stronger than most assume. You do not need a gym, weights, or a membership to start. Bodyweight squats, press‑ups, and lunges deliver the same progressive‑mastery loop at home, which removes the single biggest barrier that stops people beginning at all. The entry point costs nothing and asks for ten minutes.

What changes when movement is treated as a mental‑health intervention

Reframing exercise as medicine changes three things at once. It changes the dose you count as worthwhile, the outcome you track, and the person who feels allowed to start.

Once movement counts as a mental‑health intervention, a ten‑minute spin around the block stops registering as a failed training session. Under the fitness frame, a short ride barely moves body composition, so people dismiss it. Under the mental‑health frame, that same ride regulates the stress response and lifts mood within the hour. Smaller, more frequent bouts become the point, not a compromise.

The outcome you measure shifts from aesthetic and performance markers to mood, sleep, and stress. That change matters because those outcomes arrive fast. Someone waiting weeks to see a change in the mirror quits before the reward lands. Someone tracking how they sleep and feel gets feedback within days, and that feedback sustains the habit long enough for the physical changes to catch up.

The reframe also changes who participates. The people who would benefit most—those already struggling with anxiety or low mood—are often the least likely to join a gym‑branded programme. Fitness framing signals that movement is for people who are already well and want to look better. When you present movement as a tool for managing mood and stress, you give people who are struggling explicit permission to use it. Cycling, walking, strength work—any accessible form of movement—becomes a legitimate starting point.