Cycling became my laboratory for controlled experiments in resilience
My name is Isabel. I live in Bogotá, Colombia, a city that sits high in the Andes, and has quietly become a global destination for high-altitude cycling. Living here means living among mountains. Climbing is not optional; it’s part of the lifestyle.
In sports, I always found structure. Discipline. Routine. I found the simple but powerful feeling of moving toward something under my own control. A place to find energy, dopamine, and a strong sense of achievement. A passion.
helpingBut a passion without perspective can quietly turn into addiction. I ended up with a training overload that led to tendinitis in both knees. The first week was harder than the next 2 years that followed. I realized I had built an identity around performance, and suddenly it was gone.
When I stepped away to build a new life routine, I finally had the space to pause. My first lesson was realizing how deeply I needed to rest.
I had been operating with complete disconnection between mind and body, even while believing I was a wholesome cyclist. With distance, patterns began to emerge, not only in sports, but in the way I was approaching life and work.
Here are the lessons that stayed with me:
helpingControl is not just about pushing harder; it’s also about choosing when to stop. Sustainable performance requires intentional rest. At work, this translates into knowing when to push for excellence and when to set boundaries to protect quality and clarity.
helpingIdentity should be plural, not singular. When cycling disappeared, I had to rediscover the other parts of myself: professional, daughter, friend, colleague. I no longer allow one role to define me completely. This perspective makes me more balanced and less reactive in my job.
Gray areas are powerful. At work, this means resisting “all or nothing” decisions. Sometimes the best research outcomes come from realistic user samples, thoughtful timelines, and steady progress, not from ambitious but unsustainable pushes.
helpingDiscomfort is a training ground. Long climbs teach you how to sit with discomfort. Presenting to a tough audience, managing a complex project, or navigating uncertainty at work follow the same pattern. You breathe, you pace yourself, you trust the process.
Achievement is a muscle. Setting a goal — whether it’s four training sessions per week, reaching a mountain summit, or conquering your first 200KM — trains your brain to normalize effort and completion. Repetition builds confidence. That mindset carries directly into project ownership and delivery.
helpingTwo years later, I returned to cycling with a wider perspective and more space for balance. I chose gravel cycling this time. Longer climbs. Slower rides. More contemplation. More coffee stops. Ironically, performance came back without the harsh discipline.
On weekends, I aim for one long ride (around 100 km and 1,800 meters of elevation gain). Those rides require planning: nutrition, gear, and pacing.
I switched from training outdoors 4 times a week to training outdoors only twice, add one indoor session if possible, and include strength training at least once a week and yoga as much as possible.
helpingThey demand focus, intention, and peace of mind; these are the ones I now enjoy the most. I try not to forget walking in the mountains with friends (those who don’t cycle), visiting museums, and brunching with girlfriends. I try to not skip this other heart training that is so worthy.
Cycling became my laboratory for controlled experiments in resilience. That resilience now shows up in my professional life and all other stadiums — it’s what I bring to work every day.
helpingI give my best effort. I push when necessary. I aim high. But I also try to recognize when to pause, recalibrate, and protect the broader picture. Cycling taught me that sustainable performance is not about constant acceleration or max efforts, it’s about rhythm. And rhythm is what allows you to climb mountains — and then come back home whole to dream of the next one.
