Fit for cycling - what I learnt by doing almost everything wrong
Great motivation, ambitious goals and far too little patience: my start in mountain biking and road cycling was characterised by classic beginner's mistakes. I started too hard, pushed my limits for too long - and only realised over time how sustainable progress is really made. This article talks about setbacks, learning processes and why sticking with it is more important than perfection.
Cover picture: Salzkammergut Trophy / Erwin Haiden
When I started cycling, I was one thing above all: extremely motivated. Perhaps even too motivated. I bought myself a good mountain bike, quickly set myself big goals and pretty soon signed up for an MTB marathon in July. It sounded logical in my head. Second week of July, so enough time to get fit.
When the first ride was possible in spring, I cycled along the cycle path from St. Johann in Tirol to Waidring and back again. Around forty kilometres, a few metres in altitude, a proud tour for me at the time. I cycled this lap as if I was already in a race.
Back home, I was completely exhausted. I could hardly get off my bike, lay on the couch at home and was gone immediately. Sore muscles everywhere. Plus pain in places I didn't even know existed. My sit bones were so sore that I seriously thought I wouldn't be able to get back on my bike for the next three weeks.
"Looking back, it was clear that I hadn't built up my body. I had completely overtaxed it. And yet I didn't stop. I still had a big goal in front of me."
My first big goal was the E-course of the Salzkammergut Trophy over 54 kilometres with around 1,700 metres of elevation gain. It was a real challenge for me at the time and I didn't know whether I would even be able to complete it. My motto was simple: taking part is everything. Just getting through. No matter how.
I started to train more regularly. Three times a week. Not perfect, not particularly smart, but consistent. I rode even when the weather wasn't ideal and slowly learnt to understand my body a little better. I realised when I wasn't so fit, when I still had reserves, when I wanted too much.
"By July I was so far that the distance and metres in altitude seemed doable. Never easy, but doable. And then the time had finally come."
The race day itself was something special. The most beautiful weather. Over 900 starters on my route. There were countless people at the start and along the route cheering everyone on, whether at the front or far behind. This atmosphere carries you through the entire race. It gives you energy, even when you're already tired.
The finish was emotional. I had made it. I was empty, exhausted - and incredibly proud at the same time, on the verge of tears. At that moment, I consciously thought for the first time: "If you can do this, then you can do more than you give yourself credit for." I realised that this was not my last marathon.
"What I didn't understand back then was that motivation alone is not enough. It gets you to the start. But it won't get you through several years of training."
The next winter, I fell into the classic trap: more helps more. I did a lot of ski tours, often at the limit, constantly on the move. Hardly any real rest days. Hardly any conscious recovery. I felt hard-working and was convinced that I was building up a perfect base for the summer.
The reality was different. I was constantly ill that winter. One cold after another. My immune system was constantly at the limit. The famous open-window effect sent its regards. As soon as I was halfway fit again, the next infection came. My performance stagnated in the summer - despite the enormous effort I put in during the winter, I didn't make any progress.
"That was frustrating. And quite sobering to be honest. I had the feeling that I was doing everything right - and still didn't get any better."
By talking to experienced riders and professionals, I began to understand what I had been missing: groundwork, patience and, above all, regeneration. Not full throttle all the time, but structure.
In winter, relaxing tours at a low heart rate. Exercise yes, but not constantly at the limit. In addition, targeted training in the gym, not just for the legs, but also for the core and back. Stability instead of pure strength.
Then in spring, long, relaxed sessions on the racing bike that I bought. Hours in the saddle, almost always straight to the Chiemsee, sometimes round and back again without destroying myself. Building up instead of building down. The focus was no longer purely on riding uphill, but on balance. Around two thirds calm endurance, one third targeted intensity with the mountain bike. Long rides where you could have a chat. Short, clearly defined peaks of exertion and conscious recovery.
"More sleep. Better nutrition. Less distraction. No alcohol."
The effect was not immediate. And that was perhaps the most important lesson. It took months. At times it felt like nothing was happening. But slowly I became more stable. More constant. More resilient. I now approached long mountain bike tours very calmly, although I still made mistakes, especially when it came to hydration and energy intake during the tour.
Every year I was able to improve a little at the Salzkammergut Trophy. The race suddenly felt controllable. I had reserves. I could organise the route. I could now enjoy it - instead of just surviving.
"Building performance is not a question of age. It's a question of structure, patience and honesty towards yourself."
One point is particularly important to me, especially for beginners: I didn't start mountain biking seriously until I was 48. Before that, I was always on the move, did sport and enjoyed being outdoors - but never in a really structured or consistent way. I wasn't a classic endurance athlete, no talent, no "natural runner". I had to work everything out step by step.
Maybe that's what taught me to be more patient with myself. Today I know that progress doesn't come from toughness alone, but from a clever balance of exertion and recovery. Through realistic goals. By enjoying exercise. And by being prepared to see setbacks not as a defeat, but as part of the journey.
That's exactly why I'm writing this article. Because I want to show that it's never too late to start - and that you don't have to be perfect to get better.
Cycling, whether mountain bike, road bike or gravel, is one of the most versatile sports there is. It is easy on the joints, promotes endurance and is mentally liberating. It combines nature, exercise and personal development. And it is forgiving of mistakes - if you are prepared to listen.
"You don't have to start perfectly. You don't have to be extreme. You just have to start, keep at it and give your body time. The rest will come. Step by step. Kilometre by kilometre."
Systematic training - my simple guide for beginners
In the beginning, I rode almost every ride the same way: not relaxed, not at the limit, somewhere in between. It felt like training. In reality, it was mostly just exhausting - and not very effective.
It wasn't until I started to consciously differentiate between the effort that my training got better. Four simple areas are enough for beginners:
1. basic area (easy / GA1)
You should be able to have a conversation here without any problems. Your breathing is calm and you have reserves. This range is approximately 60-75% of your maximum heart rate.
You can roughly estimate your maximum heart rate using the formula 220 minus your age. For example, if you are 40, your maximum heart rate is theoretically around 180 (a performance test by your doctor can determine this more precisely).
You build up your base in this range. Your body learns to use energy efficiently and to last longer. This is unspectacular - but crucial.
2nd development area (brisk / GA2)
It becomes noticeably more strenuous here. Entertaining is only possible in short bursts. Around 75-85 % of your maximum heart rate.
You become more efficient, more stable and more resilient. Ideal for longer climbs or tempo runs.
3rd load range (hard / GA3)
Now it becomes demanding. You are breathing heavily and it is almost impossible to speak. Around 85-90 % of your maximum heart rate.
This range makes sense - but only in a targeted manner. If you ride here constantly, you will accumulate fatigue instead of progress.
4. interval range (very hard)
Short, intense efforts over 90 % of your maximum heart rate - always with deliberate breaks.
This is where you set strong stimuli for speed and performance. But only if the foundation is right and you start well rested.
My practical tip for beginners
A good sports watch with heart rate measurement - whether integrated on the wrist or more precisely with a chest strap - can help enormously at the beginning. Not to drive you crazy, but to develop a feeling for your pace. Many people intuitively ride too fast. The watch shows you when you are really travelling at a relaxed pace.
You'll need it less over time. Then you'll know for yourself what your "basic pace" feels like.
What I have learnt:
Most of the time belongs in the GA1 range.
Some of it fast (GA2).
Only a little really hard (GA3 and interval training).
And don't train every day, consciously incorporate recovery - this is an essential part of training.
"When you train like this, you don't just get faster. You'll stay healthy, stable and motivated in the long term. You'll see how quickly you'll find it easy to cover longer distances with plenty of metres in altitude. You'll have a lot of fun on your bike or road bike."
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