Win's in context

The first bike ride of the new year was meant to be about following the group for as long as possible, then settling into a nice steady pace if, or when, I got dropped.

Steady.  Sensible. And a bit of gas in there. A gentle reintroduction to rhythm and routine.

Instead, after some gearing issues and a quick trip to the mechanic, plan B was initiated, from which I found myself sitting on Slayde’s wheel (one of my closest friends), thinking, this will make the ride home easier. A tow. A bit of shelter. Less thinking required.

However, shortly after, it became clear I’d misjudged things.

My legs were burning, and that familiar internal dialogue started creeping in — this feels harder than it should… just drop back and take it easy, there’s no need to kill yourself on this ride. 

No sooner had this thought occurred than another appeared. No weakness. Our Endurance Team's motto. The more unfortunate thing for me was that Slayde herself had just come back from a serious injury the year before. Months of pain, uncertainty, rehab, doubt, and frustration. And suddenly, my discomfort felt very small in comparison. I was simply uncomfortable.

That perspective landed hard.

I was also reminded of something she had said on a podcast a few weeks prior:"There’s a satisfaction that comes from finishing a really hard session, knowing you did it well."

That sentence stayed with me for the rest of the ride.

An hour later, when I finally unclipped and stepped off the bike, everything hurt. My watts were nowhere near what they were before my hip operation. Objectively, the numbers weren’t impressive. But subjectively, it felt like a huge win. Hanging onto that wheel, even barely, made my day. 

And that’s the thing we often miss. Every win exists in context.

Sometimes a win is the continuation of momentum, a PB, a podium, a breakthrough performance. Those wins are easy to recognise and celebrate. But other times, wins live in quieter places.

They show up when momentum has been interrupted. After injury. After illness. After burnout. After confidence has taken a hit. In those moments, the benchmark changes…. or at least, it should.

This is where athletes often struggle most. We’re conditioned to measure success against past versions of ourselves, rather than current reality. When progress isn’t linear, it’s easy to feel like we’re going backwards — even when we’re doing exactly what recovery, growth, or resilience requires.

Context matters.

For an athlete returning from injury, a win might be:

·       Showing up consistently.

·       Completing a session without pain.

·       Trusting their body again.

·       Enjoying just doing something again, even when performance lags behind memory.

History gives us countless examples of this. Some of the most respected athletes and teams in sport didn’t define success solely by trophies or records, but by moments of persistence, returning after setbacks, adapting when circumstances changed, and redefining what winning looked like in that phase of their career.

What we often admire most about elite performers isn’t just how they win — but what they had to overcome to get there.

For me, that first ride back wasn’t about power numbers or fitness benchmarks. It was about being back on the bike at all. It was about being around friends and fighting through discomfort. It was about recognising that enjoyment can still exist inside effort, even when things feel hard.

That ride reminded me that progress doesn’t always roar back. Sometimes it whispers. And if you’re willing to listen and judge your performance in context, those quieter wins can be just as meaningful as the loud ones.

So wherever you are right now, building momentum, coming back from injury, or simply trying to reconnect with your sport.. zoom out.

Ask yourself: What does a win look like here and now?

You might be surprised by how many you’re already collecting.

🎧 Click here to listen to the Innerfight Endurance podcast with Slayde