Shownotes

Anna's background

03:13 -

• My background is in mathematics, and for a long time, my life revolved entirely around it. I began my academic journey in Vienna, where I completed my bachelor's degree in mathematics. I then moved to the UK for my master's and later pursued my PhD in Barcelona, Spain.
• However, during my studies, sport gradually became a more significant part of my life. Initially, it was just a casual hobby. I started running while studying in Vienna—around 15 or 16 years ago—purely for fun.
• I remember a university colleague who had a structured training plan, and at the time, I thought that was something only elite athletes had.
• I didn't even know what a training plan was! But my interest in sport grew, and that same friend eventually convinced me to participate in a race.
• Surprisingly, I did quite well, which made me realise that maybe I had some potential.
• From there, I started experimenting with different endurance sports. I did a few triathlons but struggled with swimming, so I focused more on duathlons.
• In 2013 and 2014, I discovered cycling, got my first power meter, and began participating in GranFondos. I performed well, and people suggested that I try proper road races.
• By 2016, while finishing my PhD, I joined a small team in Spain and raced in the national racing series. That same year, I won my first UCI race, which changed everything.
• Suddenly, professional teams were interested in me, and I signed my first pro contract with Lotto Soudal for the 2017 season. It all happened incredibly fast—almost overnight, I went from being a student to a professional cyclist.
• But just as quickly, it all fell apart.
• That year, I suffered a severe burnout. I couldn’t finish any races properly, and it became clear that I was completely exhausted—both physically and mentally. By the end of the season, I decided to quit cycling and return to academia.
• I took a post-doctoral research position in mathematics at a university in Lausanne, Switzerland.
• But even then, I couldn’t completely step away from sport. I went back to cycling as a hobby, racing GranFondos and experimenting with time trials. I even built my own time trial bike in my basement. One thing led to another, and I ended up winning my first national time trial championship.
• That victory put me back on the radar of the Austrian national federation, and I started racing with them. This continued all the way up to the Olympics, where I was selected to represent Austria.
• That Olympic experience was a turning point—I achieved a major win, and off the back of that, I returned to professional cycling.
• Regarding my burnout in 2017, it was both physical and mental. The year before had been incredibly intense. I was in the final stretch of my PhD, which meant a huge amount of stress.
• I defended my thesis around September, October, or maybe even November—right at the same time I was racing at a high level for the first time.
• Everything happened at once: finishing my doctorate, racing my first UCI event, and dealing with the pressures of elite competition. On top of that, my training was extremely demanding, and my coach at the time, while well-intentioned, was not the right fit for me. Instead of helping me manage the stress, he added more pressure. By the start of 2017, I was completely drained.
• After that, I spent several years without a professional team. It was a conscious decision. I could have continued with a more traditional cycling career—maybe with a continental team—but I chose to step away.

Reason to get to cycling again

09:00 -

• I never had a childhood dream of going to the Olympics—my motivation was always intrinsic. I simply loved the feeling of movement, pushing my body, and discovering my limits.
• In the beginning, I was more of a hobby athlete, mostly running, without focusing much on performance. I would do things like running 30 kilometres as a complete beginner just because I enjoyed it so much.
• However, I’ve always had a competitive nature. Even in my academic career, I wanted to be the best at everything since primary school.
• That instinct naturally carried over into sports. As I progressed, I became more competitive—not just with myself but also with others.
• Even when I was doing gran fondos, I saw them as races. Eventually, I started entering proper races, including national championships, where my mindset remained the same: I wanted to push myself to be better.
• For me, the Olympics was just another important race. It wasn’t something I idolised from a young age; rather, it became significant as a result of my competitive drive.
• My approach to it wasn’t very different from how I approached previous races—I wanted to perform at my best, just as I always had.
• Even after experiencing burnout, I never lost my love for movement. When I quit cycling, I only stayed off the bike for about two weeks before I started riding again—purely for fun, with low volume and low intensity.
• There was never any resentment towards the act of cycling itself. Instead, what I grew to dislike was the structure and chaos of standard road racing, which contributed to my decision not to join a team at that time.
• Despite stepping away from competitive cycling for a while, I remained active. I took up running and other forms of training, and eventually, I joined a local club in Los Angeles.
• Once I started riding with others again, my competitive spirit naturally returned.

Olympic Road Race

13:14 -

• In the Olympics, you race for your country rather than your professional team, which makes it a very different experience. In events like the Tour de France, you compete with your trade team, but in the Olympics, you represent your nation—in my case, Austria.
• This also means that the number of riders is much smaller, making the peloton feel very different. Another key distinction is that there’s no race radio in the Olympics.
• Normally, in professional races, you have direct communication with your team car, which provides tactical advice and updates on the race situation. Without it, you’re left to make decisions on your own, relying only on what you see and hear on the road.
• As for the race itself, it was around 140 kilometres, featuring a long climb early on, followed by a flatter section at the top.
• Then there was another crucial smaller uphill before a long 40-kilometre stretch to the finish line. The conditions were extremely hot, but everyone was aware of that in advance and had prepared accordingly.
• Going into the race, setting a precise outcome goal was difficult because road races are unpredictable, with many uncontrollable variables.
• My strategy, after analysing the course, was to attack early. I had several points in mind where I thought an early move could be effective, one of them being kilometre zero. The night before the race, I studied the weather forecast and also watched the men’s race, which confirmed my decision to go for an attack right from the start.
• The idea was to gain an advantage early and then, later in the race, when the favourites started attacking and forming a lead group, they would catch me, and I could try to stay with them thanks to the fitness I had built up.
• The first part of the plan worked—I attacked at kilometre zero. However, what I hadn’t expected was that nobody ever caught me.
• I just kept going all the way to the finish line and won the race.
• Since there was no race radio, I had very little information about what was happening behind me. There were motorbikes on the course displaying time gaps, but they were not frequent.
• A lot of the time, it was just a camera following me, which was frustrating because I kept looking at it, hoping for a time update, but all I got was the camera focusing on me. 
• I knew I had a gap, but I didn’t know exactly how much. However, it didn’t really change anything—I was riding all-out from the moment I attacked until the finish line.

Training for the Olympic Race

17:41 -

• My preparation for the race was not just about the weeks or months leading up to it—it was the culmination of years of building fitness.
• By the final months of preparation, I was already at a solid fitness level. Even in 2020, I had strong numbers on long climbs and solid endurance, which gave me a strong foundation for the final phase of training.
• After taking a short break at the end of the 2020 season, I started my structured preparation in November. Initially, I followed a classic base-building approach with long endurance rides.
• By December, I began incorporating intensity, primarily through block training. This meant focusing on specific physiological components for several days at a time.
• For example, I would complete several consecutive VO2 max sessions, followed by rest, then shift to an FTP-focused block. When I look back at my training, I sometimes think it was crazy—like doing six VO2 max sessions in five days.
• Despite the intensity, my sessions were quite traditional—there was nothing particularly unconventional about them.
• However, I didn’t have access to altitude camps or high-performance support systems at the time. I was balancing my training with a full-time role at university, had no national funding, and no team support.
• I was largely on my own, with only brief coaching guidance in 2021. My training tools were quite basic, but I compensated with a high-intensity approach. Most of my training was in zones 4 and 5, while my overall volume was moderate—not extreme.
• On average, my training weeks consisted of around 20 hours, though this varied. Sometimes, it was less, but there were also heavy blocks, such as an eight-day period with 35 hours of training. What stood out, even in hindsight, was how much intensity I incorporated.
• It was rare for me to simply do long endurance rides—those were reserved for rest days. Whenever I trained, it was intense. Looking back, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend this approach as a long-term strategy, but in the short term, it worked. I was at my physical limit, but I kept improving.
• It’s important to note that, at first, my training wasn’t specifically targeted at the Olympics but rather at the qualification race in May. Since I needed to peak early, my training plan had to reflect that timeline.
• The selection race was an internal competition among Austrian athletes due to Covid restrictions—no international races were available. The course revolved around a decisive 25-minute climb, so I structured my training to optimise my power output for that effort.
• That’s why I focused so heavily on VO2 max and FTP work—I needed to maximise my 25-minute power while ensuring I had the capacity to attack.
• Regarding my weekly training structure, I primarily did single sessions each day. My routine was shaped by my work schedule—I tackled complex mathematical problems in the morning while my mind was fresh, then trained around midday.
• I rarely did double sessions, as I needed to balance my workload. To manage the dual demands of training and work, I often scheduled back-to-back rest days, like Monday and Tuesday, to focus fully on my academic responsibilities. In contrast, I would do heavy training blocks from midweek to the weekend.
• Almost all my training was done outdoors, except for specific heat training sessions.

Heat Training sessions

24:04 -

• Before the Olympics, my training was highly focused. Until May, my priority was the selection race, and I only started incorporating heat training about five weeks before Tokyo. At that point, my approach involved three sessions per week, each lasting approximately 90 minutes.
• These sessions were quite basic—I would train on the turbo trainer indoors, ensuring that the conditions simulated the heat and humidity expected at the Games.

Anna's phenotype and impact on training

25:08 -

• I am extremely slow-twitch dominant, which is why I can sustain long solo attacks like my 140-kilometre effort. I have virtually no sprint, which I attribute to both genetics and the way I’ve trained. Throughout my Tokyo Olympics build-up, I never focused on sprinting—maybe some attacks, but never sprint efforts specifically.
• This might be why I responded well to extreme intensity loads. Athletes with a higher anaerobic capacity can struggle with this type of training as it can overwhelm them. Since my physiology relies heavily on the aerobic system, I could handle the workload better. However, I still wonder how I managed it. I was constantly tired, yet my numbers kept improving. I don’t know if my phenotype played a role, but I definitely felt the stress.
• If I had to plan my Olympic build-up again without knowing the race outcome, I would largely stick to the same plan, assuming I had the same motivation and willingness to push myself to the limit. However, one major change I would make is incorporating more rest days.
• For example, I did a six-day VO2 max block, followed by only three easy/rest days before jumping into another demanding training camp.
• Looking back, I realise that if I had taken a bit more time to recover, I would have gained even more from that block. It’s a pity I didn’t allow myself that rest.
• The hard training approach did work, but it was a psychological battle. The key was going all-in on the hard days, but that level of suffering was at my absolute limit.
• Regarding my VO2 max sessions, I kept them quite traditional—four by six minutes or five by five minutes, with rest periods about half the duration of the efforts.
• I didn’t do many fancy variations like hard-start intervals because I wanted to maximise time at high power. The intensity was always high, around an RPE of 9 to 9.8 out of 10. Could I have done an extra interval? Maybe, if an Olympic gold medal depended on it.
• For FTP work, I trained in blocks. A typical long weekend would include three by twenty-minute threshold intervals on Friday, over-unders on Saturday (for example, four by fifteen minutes), and a sweet spot session on Sunday.
• The sweet spot work felt almost like a relief after the high-intensity efforts—around two hours in total, sometimes over long climbs.
• After these blocks, I took a couple of very easy endurance days—Monday and Tuesday, for example—where I rode at maybe 50% of my FTP power, much lower than what some people call ‘easy’. Proper rest was crucial in this type of training because when I pushed hard, I really pushed hard.

Block training in cycling 

31:48 -

• I don’t think block training is particularly common, and honestly, I can’t even remember exactly how I started with it. I believe I first came across the concept in a research article—it was a case study about a female cross-country skier who had incorporated this type of training.
• Another key influence was a coach I worked with in 2020, who introduced me to threshold training blocks. While I’m still unsure about the effectiveness of VO₂ max blocks, the threshold-focused blocks proved to be extremely beneficial for me.
• In 2020, I structured my training around these threshold blocks, performing consecutive days of high-intensity work, and the results were impressive. I credit my coach for that breakthrough. Since it worked so well in 2020, I continued using this approach in 2021.
• There’s also a well-known case study that examined five consecutive days of VO₂ max training in cyclists, which is often referenced when discussing block training.
• However, I think it’s really important to clarify something—when people hear about how others train, they might be tempted to replicate it without considering the context. My experience with block training was short-term, and I was in a highly controlled environment.
• At the time, my life was entirely focused on training, recovery, and my work as a mathematician—nothing else. I had minimal external stressors, which allowed me to push myself to the limit.

Taper for the Olympics

34:30 -

• Adapting to the circumstances was key in this situation. Given the extensive travel and being in a completely different environment, it was all about adjusting to what life threw at me.
• We arrived in Tokyo 10 days before the race, but the journey itself was quite chaotic, especially with the challenges posed by COVID.
• Once we got there, my approach to training had to be flexible. At first, I took a few easy days because I was completely exhausted from the trip.
• Then, I incorporated a session focused on sweet spot efforts—this was essential to get my legs moving again at a slightly higher intensity without overloading them. 
• The most structured and intense session came three days before the race. That day, I did two sets of three-minute progressive efforts to activate my body, followed by two sets of six-minute hard efforts. This was all part of a four-hour ride, carefully planned to balance intensity and endurance.
• Given the hot and humid conditions in Tokyo, managing the environmental factors was another key element in the final days before the race.

Self-coaching

36:07 -

• I've had the privilege of working with several coaches, each offering unique perspectives on training, and I feel it’s important to give credit to them.
• My approach wasn't about inventing new methods; rather, it was about gathering the best elements from different sources and integrating them into a plan that worked for me, especially during the Olympics.
• The key takeaway from these experiences is that there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution in coaching. Many approaches can be effective, and often, what works for one person may not work for another. For instance, I worked with coaches who swore by polarized training, avoiding threshold work completely, even for races like an 80-minute climb that should ideally be ridden at threshold power.
• On the other hand, some coaches didn’t touch VO2 max training for months, while others placed heavy emphasis on it. Similarly, some preferred long rides as part of my routine, while others limited them to avoid excessive stress, suggesting it’s better to split longer sessions into shorter ones.
• Despite these contradictions, all of my coaches were highly skilled, educated, and experienced.
• This variety taught me that the most important factor is how you feel about the training. If you find an approach you enjoy, it can often be more beneficial than one that is purely data-driven, as long as it aligns with your goals.
• When I first started training, I was very numbers-oriented. I bought my first power meter in 2014, along with the book "Training and Racing with a Power Meter," which provided strict formulas for FTP tests and structured power-based workouts.
• This system worked well for me at the time, and I believe the simplicity of it made it effective. I was able to focus on clear metrics without distractions. Over time, though, I evolved my approach. I moved from a rigid, numbers-focused training style to one that is much more intuitive, relying on RPE rather than strictly adhering to power numbers.
• Now, when I perform efforts, I don’t calculate specific power targets; instead, I tune into my body and adjust accordingly. I’ve also become more flexible in my training approach, considering not just the physiological benefits but also the psychological impact of the session.
• For example, if the weather is bad and I’ve planned a long ride, I may choose to shift it to another day to avoid unnecessary stress. The goal is to manage both the physical and mental stressors to maximize the benefit of each session, which often leads to better performance in the long term.
• The shift from a rigid, number-based approach to a more intuitive, flexible one has been a major change in how I train.
• Of course, I’ve also picked up various smaller lessons along the way, such as insights on altitude training and heat adaptation, but these have been secondary to the broader shift in mindset.
• Regarding altitude tents, I have mixed feelings. Initially, I thought they were a game-changer, something I absolutely had to try.
• Once I got one, however, I began to question whether the recovery cost was worth the small gains I noticed in performance.
• In my case, the benefits have been minimal compared to the recovery cost, and I’m still unsure whether they are truly effective. I’ve spoken with experts in the field, and the consensus seems to align with my experience: altitude training can be valuable, but altitude tents are far from a perfect solution.
• They are cost-effective compared to actual altitude training, but they come with their own set of challenges. For me, it's still an open question, but I’m not convinced they’ve been a game-changer.

Balancing training

43:47 -

• When preparing for a race, I prioritise specificity in training above all else. It might seem obvious, but many athletes overlook the importance of structuring their sessions to closely mimic the demands of their target event.
• Before getting caught up in the details of VO2 max intervals—whether they should be 40/20s, 30/15s, or another format—I first focus on the fundamental question: what does my race require?
• For example, when training for a time trial, the final weeks of preparation revolve around sustained efforts at my target race power. These sessions are structured to replicate the event as closely as possible, with short recovery periods between efforts.
• While I do include some targeted VO2 max work to maintain my physiological capabilities, the majority of my training is centred around the specific intensity I’ll need on race day.

Planning training

45:36 -

• I consider my training diary one of the most valuable resources I have. I started writing everything down quite early in my career, and I’m really glad I did.
• The problem with platforms like TrainingPeaks is that when you switch platforms, you might lose some data—especially personal comments and insights. While you can export workout files, you often lose the notes that provide real context to the numbers. 
• That’s why I’ve maintained my own structured Excel files since around 2015, ensuring consistency in how I log my training.
• In my diary, I track the duration of each workout, the main content, and personal comments about how I felt. I also log daily metrics such as sleep duration, sleep quality, energy levels, and how I felt during the session.
• Additionally, I have a column for coaching reflections—notes on what I would do differently, whether I pushed too hard, or any biomechanical adjustments I made, like raising my saddle. This structured approach allows me to keep track of key insights over time.
• I use my training diary extensively when planning for races. If I’m preparing for an event like the Road World Championships, I’ll look back at similar races I’ve done in the past to analyse my training leading up to them.
• If a previous approach worked well, I’ll consider incorporating similar elements again. For example, when planning an altitude training camp, I use my notes to determine when I should go, when I should return, and how my body responded in previous instances.
• Research papers can offer general guidelines, but they don’t tell you what works best for you as an individual. Similarly, during training camps, no one can precisely dictate how much load you can handle—your own historical data is often the best guide.
• I don’t have a formal process for reviewing my training, but I do reflect regularly. At the start of a season or when planning a major training block, I look back at my notes.
• However, I also review past training for smaller planning needs, like a two- or three-week training camp or even individual sessions. I might check how many repetitions I did in a specific session before, how I felt afterwards, and whether I could have done more.
• This approach is very needs-based—I refer back to my diary whenever it’s relevant, and I do so quite often.

Other resources that are useful

49:53 -

• Over the years, my approach to gathering knowledge has evolved. Initially, I relied heavily on books and research papers, but over time, I shifted towards more interactive and dynamic sources of information.
• Engaging in conversations with experienced individuals has been incredibly valuable. I find that following the right people on platforms like Twitter can be an excellent way to pick up new ideas.
• Many academics and researchers share insights that go beyond the constraints of their published studies, offering a more holistic perspective on their field of expertise.
• Podcasts have also become a crucial resource for me. Listening to in-depth interviews with coaches and experts often provides nuances that might not come through in written articles.
• There’s something about hearing someone articulate their thoughts that makes the information more tangible and applicable.
• I see a parallel between this and the value of speaking to athletes who have gone through a process thoughtfully, rather than solely relying on controlled studies, which—although valuable—can be quite limited in scope and practical application.
• Before the Tokyo Olympics, my access to external experts was quite limited. However, I did work with a mental coach, which was extremely beneficial.
• At that time, I didn’t have a dedicated coach structuring my training plan, but the mental preparation aspect made a significant difference.
• After Tokyo, thanks to increased funding from my country, I had more opportunities to consult various specialists.
• That said, I found one-off coaching sessions somewhat restrictive—coaching is a complex process, and a single consultation isn’t always enough to develop a deep understanding of an athlete’s specific needs.
• However, I did seek expert advice for planning an altitude training camp, which was a situation where targeted guidance made sense.
• Working with a mental coach helped me develop self-awareness and refine my motivation. One of the key takeaways was the power of positive self-talk. A large part of mental training involved understanding my values and being intentional about what I wanted to achieve. This awareness naturally strengthened my motivation.
• I also briefly consulted nutritionists, but by that stage, my nutrition was already well-optimised, so I didn’t feel an ongoing need for their guidance.
• In hindsight, I wish I had sought out nutritional expertise much earlier in my career, as it could have saved me years of trial and error.
• The area where I invested the most resources was equipment and aerodynamics. This was by far the most expensive and extensive aspect of my preparation.
• It played a crucial role in my performance, as optimising these factors can make a significant difference in elite competition.

Piece of advice to a younger Anna

56:02 -

• I was always quite impatient, and honestly, I still struggle with that even now. In the beginning, I wanted results immediately without realising how long it takes for the body to adapt physiologically and how much experience matters.
• When I did my first triathlon, I expected an immediate result, which, looking back, was quite naïve. There’s so much to learn in those early stages, and so many things can go wrong.
• I got caught up in trying to optimise everything without having even done a race before. If I could give advice to my younger self, it would be to be patient—progress takes time, and you can’t rush development.
• Another major lesson I’ve learned is the importance of asking more questions and seeking guidance. I used to think it was cool to figure everything out by myself, to be completely self-sufficient, but in reality, I was just too shy to reach out for help.
• I wish I had sought the right kind of guidance earlier in my career. There’s a misconception that being independent is always a strength, but in my case, it held me back from learning faster.
• When I think about my career progression, things moved very quickly—too quickly, in some ways. My transition into elite racing was rapid. My first elite race was in 2016, and within less than a year, I won my first race and signed a pro contract.
• Physically, I was strong enough, but mentally, I was nowhere near ready. You can’t just skip a year of development and expect to handle everything that comes with being a professional athlete.
• I was incredibly vulnerable at that stage, and in hindsight, I needed more time to mature.
• Patience is a valuable lesson for any athlete. Even though I felt I lacked patience, the truth is, I progressed much faster than most people would.
• Winning the Olympics came around eight years after I started cycling, which is a short timeframe for such an achievement. Most athletes need even more patience because they’re juggling jobs, families, and other responsibilities.
• On top of that, there’s the genetic component—you can’t get around the fact that some people adapt faster than others. But regardless of natural talent, putting in the work consistently and allowing time for proper development is key.

Topic that Anna wants to learn more about or understand better

59:19 -

• When it comes to measuring recovery, I’m really interested in finding better ways to track how my body calms down after a hard session.
• There’s a clear sympathetic nervous system response after intense training, and it would be valuable to measure when that state subsides.
• One potential approach could be monitoring cortisol levels, though I haven’t explored that in depth yet. I’ve tried using heart rate variability (HRV) in the past, but it didn’t work well for me personally.
• So, from a more practical standpoint, I’m working on recovery strategies like meditation techniques to help regulate that process more effectively.
• Another key area of interest for me is endurance training—specifically, understanding how hard endurance rides should be and what power targets we should aim for.
• It’s fascinating because endurance training is a massive component of an endurance athlete’s overall workload, and yet in cycling, there’s surprisingly little precise guidance on intensity.
• A coach might prescribe a five-hour endurance ride, but the power range can be anywhere from nearly zero watts to just below LT1. That’s an enormous range—potentially from zero to 200 watts for five hours—so it leaves a big question mark: what’s actually the most effective power to ride at?
• Cycling is particularly unique in this regard. In most other endurance sports, training intensities are clearly defined, whereas in cycling, a large portion of the training load is left open-ended.
• Even in running, there’s some ambiguity—particularly for triathletes, whose easy runs can range from extremely relaxed to relatively fast—but it’s not quite as pronounced as in cycling.
• The issue in cycling is that the dynamic range of power output is so broad that it allows for a lot of variability in execution.
• Interestingly, I’ve had discussions with researchers on this topic, and it seems like there’s very little formal study on the optimal intensity for endurance riding, despite it being such a fundamental part of training.
• Research on training intensity distribution tends to lump endurance training into broad “zone one” or “zone two” categories, which cover an enormous range of possible intensities.
• It’s funny because endurance rides aren’t meant to be overly rigid, and I don’t want to take the enjoyment out of them, but at the same time, I’d love to know whether riding at, say, 190 watts is meaningfully different from riding at 140 watts. Right now, it feels like there’s no clear answer.
• One potential factor that might influence where an athlete naturally settles within that endurance training range is muscle fibre composition.
• I’ve noticed a pattern where athletes with more fast-twitch muscle fibres tend to gravitate toward the lower end of the endurance range, while those with more slow-twitch dominance seem to prefer the higher end.
• Whether that’s actually optimal is another question, but it’s an interesting trend that could be worth exploring further.

General Questions

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How Hard to Go in Training?

• Leading up to Tokyo, my training was extremely intense, and I pushed myself beyond my limits. However, when considering long-term sustainability and longevity in the sport, I realised I couldn’t always train at such high intensities.
• I don’t particularly enjoy suffering through pain, so I’ve adjusted my approach. These days, I typically include two higher-intensity sessions per week, but they’re significantly less demanding than my pre-Tokyo sessions.
• That said, I’ve found that my personal performance improves the most when I push far beyond my comfort zone—so, unfortunately, suffering is still necessary to reach my best level.

Training Volume

• There were years when I trained for relatively few hours—around 12 to 13 per week—and I was surprised at how effective that approach was. Looking back, my power numbers were almost the same as when I trained with much higher volume. It challenges the prevailing belief that more volume is always better.
• However, I do think it’s important to distinguish between short-term and long-term development. While lower volume with high specificity can be effective in the short term, I believe higher volume plays a crucial role in long-term athletic progression.
• That said, it’s still unclear how much volume is truly necessary—some high-volume training might be excessive or even unnecessary.

Indoor Training

• I have an unusual reaction to indoor training—it makes my legs incredibly sore. The resistance from the trainer feels like I’m doing countless micro-accelerations, which really takes a toll on me. As a result, my power output indoors is much lower than outdoors, and it negatively impacts my training for days afterward.
• Ideally, I prefer training outdoors, though I do recognise the benefits of indoor sessions for controlled efforts. In theory, I would enjoy them because they allow for precise execution, but my legs simply don’t tolerate them well.

Training on the Road vs. the Time Trial Bike

• At the moment, I’m only riding my road bike, but I know I need to get back on the time trial (TT) bike soon. Right now, I just enjoy riding the road bike more.
• However, when preparing for an important time trial race, I make sure that all my intense and specific sessions are done on the TT bike.
• For example, during my altitude training camp for Paris, I did nearly everything on the TT bike—even VO2 max sessions, though I would sometimes sit up on the base bar for better power output.

Adaptation Period for the TT Bike

• It’s difficult to pinpoint an exact adaptation period for the TT bike. Before my altitude camp for Paris, I had already been training on it for my national championships, and I noticed a gradual improvement. I don’t think there’s a strict upper limit for how early one should start training on the TT bike, but in general, I’d say at least two to three months before a key race is ideal.

Testing and Performance Tracking

• The type of testing I use depends on the purpose. If I’m simply tracking improvement, I prefer field tests rather than formal lab tests. For example, if I complete a standard VO2 max session—like 4x6 minutes—and my numbers improve while keeping the same perceived effort, I know I’m progressing. I also look at race power data to assess performance gains.
• When it comes to determining training zones, I prefer measuring lactate outdoors rather than in a lab setting. If I do a step test, I’ll validate the results with longer efforts to account for possible lactate drift. While I’ve done lab tests in the past—mainly for Olympic medical requirements—I’ve never actually relied on the data for training purposes.

Lactate Testing

• I don’t do lactate testing frequently because my perceived effort generally aligns well with the data. However, I find it interesting to test occasionally to confirm trends. One key observation is that LT1 and LT2 values aren’t fixed; they fluctuate depending on duration and intensity.

Torque Training and Low-Cadence Work

• I haven’t done much structured torque training, so I can’t say whether it’s particularly beneficial. I know some riders include a lot of it in their training, and recently, the trend seems to favour shorter, high-torque efforts over traditional zone three low-cadence work. Personally, I use it mainly as neuromuscular activation—short bursts of 30-second, high-torque efforts during endurance rides. I can’t say for certain if it improves performance, but it feels good for muscle activation.

Common mistakes athletes tend to do

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• As an amateur cyclist, there are many different approaches to training, and I’m often quite impressed by how well some amateurs structure their training—sometimes even better than some professionals.
• However, if we focus on common mistakes made by those who don’t put much thought into their training, a few key issues stand out.
• One of the biggest mistakes is poor pacing in races, particularly in events like gran fondos. Many riders start far too aggressively, thinking they can sustain an unsustainable effort, such as riding the first hour at 110% of their FTP.
• Everyone knows that’s not possible, yet it happens all the time. A more realistic approach to pacing is essential for better performance and enjoyment.
• Another major mistake is poor race-day nutrition—simply not eating enough. Fueling properly is crucial, but many amateurs neglect this, leading to a dramatic drop in performance later in the event.
• When it comes to training itself, a common assumption is that amateurs ride too hard all the time. However, I find this difficult to judge because those with limited training hours might need a higher percentage of intense sessions.
• Instead, I’d highlight the lack of appreciation for endurance rides as a bigger issue. Many believe "quality training" only refers to high-intensity sessions, but a three-hour endurance ride is just as valuable.
• Beyond race-day nutrition, everyday nutrition is another major issue. Even for those who try to do things right, not eating enough to match energy expenditure can be problematic. For instance, if you train at noon—even for just an hour—you might burn an extra 500 to 800 kJ.
• It's not just about hitting the right number of calories by the end of the day, but also how those calories are distributed. If you finish training and don’t eat immediately, you create a large energy deficit that can lead to fatigue, poor recovery, and overeating later in the day. Having a post-ride snack, a recovery shake, or simply replenishing energy quickly is vital.
• Lastly, another common mistake is following random training advice without a clear plan. Many cyclists see something online or hear about a new method and immediately want to try it, leading to an unstructured, inconsistent approach.
• Even I’ve been guilty of this—chasing new training ideas instead of sticking to a well-thought-out plan. The key is to be disciplined, trust the process, and follow a structured programme rather than constantly switching approaches.

Things that triathletes do differently from cyclists on the bike

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• One of the key aspects that often stands out to me when looking at triathletes is their position on the bike. It’s striking how many athletes invest heavily in their bikes, equipment, and countless hours of training, yet neglect their position.
• The reality is that refining one’s position could yield gains equivalent to a year or even two of structured training.
• A fundamental step is to pay close attention to bike fit. While professional bike fits are beneficial, athletes can also make significant improvements on their own.
• A simple method is to film oneself on the bike and analyse the footage. Although frontal area isn’t the only factor in aerodynamics, reducing it can be an easy and effective way to improve performance.
• However, an optimised position isn’t just about achieving the perfect aesthetic on camera—it must be sustainable.
• It’s common to see athletes dial in a great position during a fit session, only to struggle to maintain it during an actual race or long training rides.
• That’s why training in the aero position is crucial. Simply resting on the aero bars isn’t enough; one must actively work to stay in that position while generating power efficiently.

The most influential book Anna read

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• Training and Racing with a Power Meter by Allen & Coggan. This book was pivotal in my journey as a self-coached cyclist and really set me on the path to understanding training with data.
• Beyond that, I have a strong interest in books about the human body and mind.
• Endure by Alex Hutchinson
• More recently, I’ve been particularly fascinated by the workings of the human mind—perhaps even more so than the body itself.
• Flow by Mihály Csíkszentmihályi is a standout in this area, exploring optimal psychological states for performance.
• I’ve also delved into the works of Robert Sapolsky, whose books provide deep insights into human behaviour.
• Behave is an incredible exploration of why we act the way we do, while Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers examines the impact of chronic stress on health. Both books offer valuable perspectives on how stress, environment, and biology shape human actions, which I find particularly relevant not just in life but also in sports performance.

Best advice I’ve ever received

• I tend to learn through experience—often the hard way—by making mistakes and figuring things out as I go. However, one powerful reflection that has stuck with me came from a coach who asked: What environment makes you perform at your best?
• This question was a game-changer because it made me realise just how crucial my surroundings are for performance. The environment influences not only how we train but also how we feel about what we do.
• It shapes our habits, our motivation, and ultimately our results. While it might not be a direct piece of advice, the takeaway is clear: we need to actively create and optimise an environment that supports our best performance.
• This is something I try to be mindful of in my own training—ensuring that the setup, atmosphere, and external factors align with what helps me get the most out of myself.

LINKS AND RESOURCES:

• Anna's Instagram and website