Last week, I revived The Time Crunched Cyclist Blog (now at https://alainlambert.ca/) with my first post in years, laying out my mission to go from fat and unfit back to my former racing shape. This comeback is personal, but I owe you transparency: it’s my third try. The first two attempts crashed hard, but those failures have sharpened my resolve. As I wrote in 2013 about the Haute Route Alps, “Cycling demands more than strong legs—it’s the will to keep pedaling when your body begs to quit.” That tenacity, which transformed me from a time-crunched lawyer and family man to a San Diego Gran Fondo champion and Haute Route contender, is why I’m certain this comeback will stick. More than that, it’s my drive to stay fit through cycling—a way to embrace life fully, as I reflected in 2019: “Riding isn’t just about fitness; it’s about defying time, about feeling alive when you know life isn’t forever.” In a few words, I never want to feel my age.
My first comeback attempt was a disaster of ambition. I aimed for a goal so ambitious, I would have had to resurrect my racing-days schedule to reach my goal, meaning group rides every week, long alpine-style climbs, hours away from my wife, kids, and grandkids. It was unsustainable. In a 2014 post, I wrote, “Balancing family, work, and cycling is like threading a needle in a storm—precision matters more than brute force.” I ignored that wisdom, chasing a goal that didn’t fit my lifestyle anymore. The plan collapsed, teaching me that a comeback must be sustainable, built around realistic commitments that honor my priorities: family and career.
The second attempt failed because I was dishonest with myself. I clung to my old power outputs, my ability to jump into the A group of any group rides, and make people around me suffer. Now it was me doing the suffering. Memories of 4.6 watts per kilo for 20 minutes, a benchmark from when I could hang with the peloton, was “the” metric I judged my performance against. I thought, “I can get close.” Wrong. A test ride revealed what used to be my one-hour power had become my ten-minute best. It gutted me. As I noted in a 2015 training update, “Power numbers are a snapshot, not a sentence—they show where you are, not where you’re bound.” I let those numbers define me, and I quit, convinced the gap was too wide. Again, I was unrealistic and overly ambituous.
This time, I nearly fell into the same trap, fixating on past metrics, looking at old power files and race results. Thank goodness for my old coach Tim Rucker. While Tim hasn’t coached me for years, we are still in touch. Aware of my new attempt at regaining decent fitness, Tim scheduled a 20-minute all out effort up Vancouver’s Cypress Mountain via TrainingPeaks. “Alain, you need to first establish where you are in terms of fitness,” he said. I dreaded it, fearing I’d embarrass myself in my own eyes, my family’s, and Tim’s. I just didn’t want to face the reality check in front of me. But I rode, grinding up switchbacks, legs screaming, heart pounding like it did on the Col d’Izoard in 2013. The numbers were far below my old 4.6 W/kg, and I felt exposed. Then my wife and kids lit up, thrilled to see me training again. Tim, echoing a 2017 reflection on riding the Haute Route Rockies with my son Alex, said, “It’s not where you’ve been—it’s where you’re headed that counts.”
That Cypress ride gave us data to set realistic power zones for my interval training, tailored to my current fitness, not my past (or where I wished my fitness would be). I’m back to having a training schedule, mixing high-intensity sessions and recovery rides to rebuild strength. The numbers aren’t what they were, but the feeling is the same, it is so familiar to me. I am liking it.
This comeback is different because I learned from failure. I’m not chasing old numbers or unrealistic goals; I’m building a sustainable path with Tim’s guidance and my family’s support. I’m eyeing local group rides, Gran Fondos, and who knows, maybe even real racing. As I wrote in 2014, “Every pedal stroke is a chance to rewrite your story.” This is my story now, driven by the lessons of two failed comebacks and a deep need to stay fit, to live fiercely.
Cycling isn’t just exercise—it’s my way of saying yes to life, every climb, every mile. I’ve done the improbable before, and I’m doing it again. A few years ago, I wrote about death. I asked: “How often do you think about death? I think about death a lot because I think it sucks we can’t be eternal. And while I can’t change nature, I certainly CAN (and MUST) do something about my health and do what I can to extend my life as much as possible, and even more importantly, improve my quality of life, especially in those later years.”
That’s why I am so committed to this latest comeback and continue riding: not just to race, but to live fully, to feel the wind on my face and the burn in my legs, to know I’m still here, fighting. Memories of racing with Alex in Colorado, cresting peaks in the Rockies, or podiuming in San Diego aren’t just old memories—they’re the fuel that drives me forward. They remind me why I started cycling: to challenge myself, to stay vital, to honor the time I have.