Georgia Bullard dives into the highs and lows of the sport, revealing why, for cyclists, passion and resilience are inseparable - and why, despite everything, “big girls (and boys) do, in fact, cry"
23-year-old Georgia Bullard is in her third season with UCI Continental team Doltcini-O’Shea. In her third journal post, Georgia dives into the highs and lows of the sport, revealing why, for cyclists, passion and resilience are inseparable – and why, despite everything, “big girls (and boys) do, in fact, cry.”
‘Big girls don’t cry’. There aren’t many things I’d dispute with Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, but perhaps this is one.
Sport in general is undoubtedly emotional. Cycling, I think, even more so, as opportunities are often stolen by mechanicals, crashes, and incidents. The win rate of a cyclist is far lower than that of any other athlete, perhaps aside from a handful of favourites in our sport. Athletes are often considered some of the toughest and strongest-minded people on the planet—and quite rightly so. The amount of mental resilience it takes to compete and be successful is extraordinary. But what it also takes is passion, and with passion comes emotion.
Crossing the line first can mean they can sleep a little easier at night, knowing they no longer have the worry of a contract, or no contract, looming over them
Many of us are all too familiar with a tearful post-race interview on our screens. I fondly recall watching an emotional Mathieu van der Poel after winning Stage 2 of the Tour de France in 2021 and taking the yellow jersey in doing so. Tears rolling down his face, he told the cameras what the win meant to him, its significance, and his elation—not that viewers needed a description of how he felt in that moment. Dedicating the win to his late grandfather, his tears continued to fall. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person sitting on my sofa with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face too. Van der Poel isn’t the only rider to have cried with happiness after a win. From a fan’s perspective, it’s refreshing to see that our idols and top contenders share the same passion and love for the sport as we do, and that winning really does mean something to them personally.
Image: Ian Wrightson/The British Continental
Sadly, post-race tears don’t always equate to joy. For many, it may be relief. Cycling is a fickle, results-driven sport. Riders have often opened up to the world after a win or major result, expressing that a good result gives them a greater chance at a new contract as a by-product of their victory. Crossing the line first can mean they can sleep a little easier at night, knowing they no longer have the worry of a contract, or no contract, looming over them. It’s the difference between supporting their family or not. That removal of pressure—especially by doing something they (hopefully) love—is enough to bring anyone to tears.
Crashing hurts. There’s no getting away from that. But I think losing a shot at victory while in the form of your life hurts more than any broken collarbone or road rash. This is something many can relate to. Cyclists are bred to ‘toughen up and carry on,’ which most of us do well—sometimes too well, but it’s part of the job and the nature of the sport. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re now three minutes down and chasing like a lunatic with a bloody knee. In that moment, it’s adrenaline, anger, and ardour. It’s only later that the real emotions start to surface when the race is done or, worse, you’re forced to abandon. Seeing riders climb into the back of team cars, clutching their elbow or shoulder with a weary, solemn look, is heartbreaking. Often sobbing as they do so, we all know the tears come from more than just a stinging cut.
Crashing hurts. But I think losing a shot at victory while in the form of your life hurts more than any broken collarbone or road rash
Good and bad days are frequent in cycling (unless you’re Tadej Pogacar). One moment you’re on top of the world, and the next you’re right back at the bottom. Some days you’re simply not good enough, and on others, you lose by the width of a tyre. Everyone gets upset and frustrated when they don’t win or perform as well as they’d hoped. It’s not being a sore loser. It’s losing the last however many months of your life, training and dedicating everything to the cause, only for it not to show up on the day. A horrible feeling, yes, but an important one nonetheless. It shows we care and that we want to be successful. If we didn’t, the emotions wouldn’t come out. It reminds us of why we do it.
So, Frankie Valli, I think it’s fair to say that big girls (and boys) do, in fact, cry. Or at least, this one does.
23-year-old Georgia Bullard is in her third season with UCI Continental team Doltcini-O’Shea. In her third journal post, Georgia dives into the highs and lows of the sport, revealing why, for cyclists, passion and resilience are inseparable – and why, despite everything, “big girls (and boys) do, in fact, cry.”
‘Big girls don’t cry’. There aren’t many things I’d dispute with Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, but perhaps this is one.
Sport in general is undoubtedly emotional. Cycling, I think, even more so, as opportunities are often stolen by mechanicals, crashes, and incidents. The win rate of a cyclist is far lower than that of any other athlete, perhaps aside from a handful of favourites in our sport. Athletes are often considered some of the toughest and strongest-minded people on the planet—and quite rightly so. The amount of mental resilience it takes to compete and be successful is extraordinary. But what it also takes is passion, and with passion comes emotion.
Many of us are all too familiar with a tearful post-race interview on our screens. I fondly recall watching an emotional Mathieu van der Poel after winning Stage 2 of the Tour de France in 2021 and taking the yellow jersey in doing so. Tears rolling down his face, he told the cameras what the win meant to him, its significance, and his elation—not that viewers needed a description of how he felt in that moment. Dedicating the win to his late grandfather, his tears continued to fall. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person sitting on my sofa with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face too. Van der Poel isn’t the only rider to have cried with happiness after a win. From a fan’s perspective, it’s refreshing to see that our idols and top contenders share the same passion and love for the sport as we do, and that winning really does mean something to them personally.
Sadly, post-race tears don’t always equate to joy. For many, it may be relief. Cycling is a fickle, results-driven sport. Riders have often opened up to the world after a win or major result, expressing that a good result gives them a greater chance at a new contract as a by-product of their victory. Crossing the line first can mean they can sleep a little easier at night, knowing they no longer have the worry of a contract, or no contract, looming over them. It’s the difference between supporting their family or not. That removal of pressure—especially by doing something they (hopefully) love—is enough to bring anyone to tears.
Crashing hurts. There’s no getting away from that. But I think losing a shot at victory while in the form of your life hurts more than any broken collarbone or road rash. This is something many can relate to. Cyclists are bred to ‘toughen up and carry on,’ which most of us do well—sometimes too well, but it’s part of the job and the nature of the sport. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re now three minutes down and chasing like a lunatic with a bloody knee. In that moment, it’s adrenaline, anger, and ardour. It’s only later that the real emotions start to surface when the race is done or, worse, you’re forced to abandon. Seeing riders climb into the back of team cars, clutching their elbow or shoulder with a weary, solemn look, is heartbreaking. Often sobbing as they do so, we all know the tears come from more than just a stinging cut.
Good and bad days are frequent in cycling (unless you’re Tadej Pogacar). One moment you’re on top of the world, and the next you’re right back at the bottom. Some days you’re simply not good enough, and on others, you lose by the width of a tyre. Everyone gets upset and frustrated when they don’t win or perform as well as they’d hoped. It’s not being a sore loser. It’s losing the last however many months of your life, training and dedicating everything to the cause, only for it not to show up on the day. A horrible feeling, yes, but an important one nonetheless. It shows we care and that we want to be successful. If we didn’t, the emotions wouldn’t come out. It reminds us of why we do it.
So, Frankie Valli, I think it’s fair to say that big girls (and boys) do, in fact, cry. Or at least, this one does.
Image: Ian Wrightson/The British Continental
Find out more
Georgia Bullard journal #02: the Joker, the Pro, the Grump and the Mother Hen
Georgia Bullard journal #01: it takes a village
Journals 2024: introducing Georgia Bullard
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