Here’s a bold statement: Cycling didn’t just change my body—it transformed my entire life. But here’s where it gets controversial: Can you truly call yourself a cyclist before you’ve mastered every gear shift or logged a thousand miles? Let’s dive in.
At the start of 2023, I was stuck in a rut. Juggling the chaos of emergency nursing, unpredictable shift work, and a relationship that no longer served me, I felt like I was losing myself. My mental and physical health were suffering, and I knew something had to change. After countless failed attempts to get back into the gym, I decided to try something different. I joined an indoor cycling studio with a simple, achievable goal: show up at least three times a week. Little did I know, my competitive and slightly addictive ADHD personality would finally work in my favor. I found a space I loved, and I leaned in—hard.
One thing led to another, and soon I was the proud owner of a second-hand road bike, clueless about what I’d just gotten myself into. I didn’t know a single person who cycled, so the learning curve was steep. Shimano what? My first ride was… humbling, to say the least. I ended up on the ground, ripped lycra and bloodied leg on full display, wondering if this was really worth it. But I kept going. A few bandages weren’t going to stop me, because deep down, I knew this was where I wanted to be—even if I wasn’t quite sure how to fit in yet.
And this is the part most people miss: the messy, awkward ‘in-between’ phase of change. I no longer belonged where I once stood, but I wasn’t yet where I wanted to be. Relationships shifted, values evolved, and goals expanded—both on and off the bike. I remember asking a coworker after just a few rides, ‘Can I even call myself a cyclist yet?’ I felt like an imposter. But here’s the truth: those feelings were all in my head. The cycling community surprised me with their generosity, kindness, and openness. No one cared that I didn’t have a white helmet or proper cycling socks. Each ride became less terrifying, and I found myself addicted to chasing the next milestone—and the post-ride coffee with my growing community.
Growing up in Bowral, the Bowral Classic seemed like the perfect goal. Could I really go from 0km to 150km with insane elevation gain in just a few months? I had no idea, but I signed up anyway. What’s the worst that could happen? Crossing that finish line was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. The pride was overwhelming—I burst into tears (okay, the physical pain might’ve helped a bit). But it wasn’t just about finishing. I was the second-fastest female. I was in disbelief. That moment gave me the self-belief I’d been missing. I finally felt like I belonged.
Fast forward to September 2025, and there I was, standing on the top step of the Australian National Championships podium, wearing the green and gold jersey as the new MAS1 Road Race National Champion. It’s wild how a few small changes can snowball into something life-altering. Cycling didn’t just improve my physical health—it reshaped my outlook on life, boosted my self-worth, and introduced me to a dynamic community of people from all walks of life. It connected me with incredible brands, gave me once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, and helped me find my voice online.
So, here’s my advice to you: Buy the bike. It’s not as intimidating as your mind makes it out to be. Start small, start slow, start wherever you can. I promise, you won’t regret it. And now, I’ll leave you with this thought-provoking question: At what point does someone truly earn the title of ‘cyclist’? Is it the miles logged, the gear owned, or simply the courage to start? Let me know what you think in the comments—I’m curious to hear your take!
