The Problem With Being “On Track”

From a young age, I learned how to live inside timelines. Not because I loved structure, but because I wanted approval. 

“She’s such a good girl,” my friend’s mom would say after I helped clear the table after dinner.

See? She said it. I am good.

I learned quickly what the world seemed to reward: be likable, do well in school, go to college with a plan, graduate on time, move neatly into a career. Hit the milestones, in the right order, without too much mess.

For a while, I excelled at ‘the timeline.’ And then, slowly, as it does, life got more complicated. I ‘retired’ from elite sport at age 24. I got laid off from my first job. Sure I was young, I was going to be fine. 

But that’s kinda the point. I didn’t have enough life experience to know there is no timeline. That it isn’t linear. So time began feeling like a constant, heavy, unforgiving reminder that I was not good enough. That somehow, I was already behind.

That pressure followed me straight into racing season this past summer.

I started the season wanting a result that would accelerate everything. Something that would justify the sacrifices, stabilize my career, make me feel safer, more settled, more ‘on track.’ I wanted proof that I was where I was supposed to be.

And yes, I know. Wherever you go, there you are.

No race result was ever going to solve my relationship with pressure or magically deliver a sense of security. If I can’t feel secure now, no finish line will suddenly grant it to me. I’ll just keep chasing the next thing. I know this in my brain. But in practice? That’s really, really hard to remember.

I love riding my bike. Truly. And yet this summer, the weight I brought into racing made it harder to access that joy. Every race felt like the result would somehow prove my worth, my future, my timing.

By the end of the season, I found myself quietly wondering if I’d even return to racing in 2026.

We love the clean story: the one where someone says, “I gave myself a year, and I made it.” It’s buzzy and neat and easy to understand. But I didn’t make it. I didn’t get the result I thought would set my career in motion.

And yet, I did do enough that some of the support I’d been looking for began to unfold for the 2026 season. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough to nudge me forward.

That’s when I started to wonder if it doesn’t have to be “on track” or “off track.” Maybe it’s just one foot in front of the other, for as long as you’re willing to keep going.

For now, I’m still stepping toward racing. I have this opportunity, right here, right now, and I want to take it wholeheartedly.

This season, I’m trying to hold my goals differently. Less pressure, more presence. It’s not about winning or losing. It’s about connection, being with people, being curious about who I am and what I’m made of, and letting sport take me out into the world to experience life as fully as I can.

Earlier this month, I started training again. A new coach. A new system. And a quieter, steadier intention: to show up, to stay open, and to keep going, without rushing myself toward some imagined finish line.