George Stephen journal: the names that aren’t in the results
George Stephen returns with the second entry in his 2026 journal for The British Continental. Writing from Mallorca after burnout forced him out of the National Championships, the BCC Race Team rider and Nottingham student pays tribute to the people who never appear on the results list — but without whom no bike rider gets anywhere.
George Stephen returns with the second instalment of his 2026 journal for The British Continental. In his first entry, the BCC Race Team rider and University of Nottingham student wrote about the crash in France that fractured his femoral neck, and the avascular necrosis diagnosis that means every race he starts could be his last.This time, writing from a sunbed in Mallorca after burnout forced him out of the National Road Championships, he turns his attention outward — to the teammates who hold him upright after races, the coach who told him medals are a side product, and the people in every rider’s corner who never appear on the results list.
Like in my first journal entry, I’ve been unsure as to how I should start this next one. Trying to be open and honest, whilst trying to avoid being cringy or attention-seeking is quite a fine line. I hope that my first entry has inspired people to keep going, despite the challenges that they are facing, but in this entry, I hope to be more appreciative to those that have helped me along the way.
We race in a sport where in the majority of cases there is only one winner. After sometimes four hours of putting each other to the sword, one name gets written down as the victor. No matter whether a rider was caught from the breakaway with 50 metres to go, no matter who was the most aggressive rider in the race or who saved themselves for the finale. That’s something I’ve often struggled with in this sport. No matter whether you play your cards perfectly for 3 hours 59 minutes and 30 seconds, if you screw up the final 200 metres that’s the difference between winning and getting lost within the names on the results list. But it’s also one of the reasons why the sport is so amazing. Anything could have happened in the first half of a race, but it is only over when you cross the finish line and the possibilities are endless.
I don’t envy those that have to suffer the drive home with me from a race if I’m not happy with my performance. Solitary confinement with an awfully grumpy and hangry cyclist
The former seems to be the running story for my last few months of racing. Everything going right until it isn’t, then the wheels fall off, although I’m usually suffering from a “biomechanical” rather than a malfunction of my bike. I don’t envy those that have to suffer the drive home with me from a race if I’m not happy with my performance. Solitary confinement with an awfully grumpy and hangry cyclist. However, recently I’ve been having to do these drives alone. After my father suffered a pretty nasty injury of his own at the end of May it is not uncommon that I’ve been flying solo. Then those drives home become slightly less bearable, and lonelier. It has made me want to highlight those people that don’t feature on the results list at all and illustrate how these people are invaluable to a successful bike rider.
I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on the support I’ve been so lucky to have in my cycling “career”. To start with my first team as an under-16, riding for Cycle Division, who made me feel like part of a bike-mad family. Then moving onto Beeston. BCC Race Team is the only other getup I’ve permanently raced for since I was 18. Having raced for the squad for coming up on four years I’ve become very fond of everyone within the organisation and hopefully the feeling is mutual. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought of applying to other teams over the years to maybe propel me higher in the sport, but I’ve never done so and for me it’s clear why. After being diagnosed with Avascular Necrosis, the team have been incredibly supportive. They’ve continued to back me and my ability, despite the ongoing risk that every race I do could be my last.
Image: Gary Hibbert
I’ve been so lucky growing up that I’ve always had a parent at the side of the rugby pitch or roadside to answer my every wish and request. But having gone it alone recently at various races including Lincoln and the third round of the National U23 series it’s obvious that I would’ve struggled without the support staff and other parents at BCC. Being in a position where I’ve finished a race and can’t lift my leg over the top tube due to pain or stiffness in my hip and quite literally leaning on my teammates to keep me upright is in many respects the most appropriate way to describe my time at the team this season and I couldn’t be more grateful for the support I have received.
The same goes for the University of Nottingham. I think it is telling that as a consequence of my previous journal entry, multiple alumni have reached out to share anecdotes of their own positive experiences at the university. I will always affirm that the cycling club is one of, if not the most, welcoming and supportive in the country from athletes to coaches to physios, whilst still aiming to perform at the highest level. It is no secret that as a member of the performance squad, I’ve used an inordinate amount of the club allocated physio sessions, I’ve also been seen at the squad’s weekly triage a fair few times too. I do not think I can express my gratitude in the few words I have here in a journal entry. However, in some respects, the time and effort that my teammates and staff placed into supporting me over the past few months left me with a self-induced feeling of pressure. I wanted to repay them for their efforts.
He illustrated to me that as a performance coach at one of the most successful sporting institutes in the country, his main priority was ensuring that I left the university as a better person than when I arrived
At a time where the future seems somewhat uncertain, I find myself feeling guilty that all these people are putting their time, and in some cases money into me, without the certainty that I could reward them through race results. But the words of our S&C coach will always sit with me. I was returning from a rather unreassuring doctor’s appointment and in classic George fashion went straight to the gym on my return to continue with training. When my peers asked how it went, because they are all lovely and caring, a rather vulnerable George couldn’t quite contain his emotions. I went to one side with our coach and explained these feelings of uncertainty and guilt. He illustrated to me that as a performance coach at one of the most successful sporting institutes in the country, his main priority was ensuring that I left the university as a better person than when I arrived. That his main focus was our wellbeing and happiness. Medals were simply a side product. I don’t think this is always the attitude of sporting coaches but I’m lucky enough to have this support in abundance.
Image: Gary Hibbert
Despite the reassurance of my peers and coaches I still place far too much pressure on myself to perform to a standard that I know I can achieve. A feeling I am quite confident is shared amongst many riders in the British peloton. It’s this pressure which has led me to be writing this journal from a sunbed in Mallorca, pulling out of the National Championships and having left my bike at home. Having completely burnt myself out after months of training, racing and university work I’ve left myself so completely frustrated and exhausted that training is virtually impossible. Despite starting the season with no expectations due to my hip, or lack of hip, I’ve still managed to virtually blow myself up.
Once again, I have no doubt become rather insufferable and grumpy. It’s as though I am in my car, on the way back from a race, underperforming, yet this feeling follows me round constantly. But the feeling of loneliness couldn’t be further from the truth. I am lucky enough to be on holiday with the most amazing girlfriend anyone can wish for. After getting pulled at Lincoln and understandably rather angered with my subpar performance, I finally found her after the race, and she was simply ecstatic that she’d seen me in the peloton and managed to cheer me on. She isn’t bothered if I lose or even finish a race, either way, I’m still her winner. I can’t say this is an attitude I share, I think she has become accustomed to the competitive nature I no doubt inherited from my father. But she is proud of me, even if I cannot say the same about myself. In my last journal I wanted to illustrate that tough times will come to an end and to encourage everyone to keep going on. In this entry I want to reiterate the fact that it is so much harder to do this alone.
We live in a world where you can contact anyone by pressing a button and in my limited experience, people are often much nicer than you would expect. They are also usually open to hearing you out
For those reading that are perhaps feeling isolated, I cannot tell you that anyone else is going through the same thing as you. In my experience everyone is tackling their own unique lives and issues, and you should never try to compare yourself to what someone else is dealing with. But what I will say is that there is almost always someone to talk to. We live in a world where you can contact anyone by pressing a button and in my limited experience, people are often much nicer than you would expect. They are also usually open to hearing you out.
And for those that are reading who can relate to my experiences make sure you let those people, like my girlfriend, my parents or coaches, know how grateful you are. The people that are obviously ecstatic if you win, but care for you regardless and just want to see you happy. I am confident that most of you cyclists that race on the weekends, across the country and the globe, like me have at least a few people in your corner. Handing out bottles, driving you around, booking accommodation. So, whilst my first journal entry hopefully inspired people to persevere and keep on going, I would like this one to show my appreciation to everyone that supports me, and hopefully it will inspire you to thank those people that don’t appear on the results list.
George Stephen returns with the second instalment of his 2026 journal for The British Continental. In his first entry, the BCC Race Team rider and University of Nottingham student wrote about the crash in France that fractured his femoral neck, and the avascular necrosis diagnosis that means every race he starts could be his last. This time, writing from a sunbed in Mallorca after burnout forced him out of the National Road Championships, he turns his attention outward — to the teammates who hold him upright after races, the coach who told him medals are a side product, and the people in every rider’s corner who never appear on the results list.
Like in my first journal entry, I’ve been unsure as to how I should start this next one. Trying to be open and honest, whilst trying to avoid being cringy or attention-seeking is quite a fine line. I hope that my first entry has inspired people to keep going, despite the challenges that they are facing, but in this entry, I hope to be more appreciative to those that have helped me along the way.
We race in a sport where in the majority of cases there is only one winner. After sometimes four hours of putting each other to the sword, one name gets written down as the victor. No matter whether a rider was caught from the breakaway with 50 metres to go, no matter who was the most aggressive rider in the race or who saved themselves for the finale. That’s something I’ve often struggled with in this sport. No matter whether you play your cards perfectly for 3 hours 59 minutes and 30 seconds, if you screw up the final 200 metres that’s the difference between winning and getting lost within the names on the results list. But it’s also one of the reasons why the sport is so amazing. Anything could have happened in the first half of a race, but it is only over when you cross the finish line and the possibilities are endless.
The former seems to be the running story for my last few months of racing. Everything going right until it isn’t, then the wheels fall off, although I’m usually suffering from a “biomechanical” rather than a malfunction of my bike. I don’t envy those that have to suffer the drive home with me from a race if I’m not happy with my performance. Solitary confinement with an awfully grumpy and hangry cyclist. However, recently I’ve been having to do these drives alone. After my father suffered a pretty nasty injury of his own at the end of May it is not uncommon that I’ve been flying solo. Then those drives home become slightly less bearable, and lonelier. It has made me want to highlight those people that don’t feature on the results list at all and illustrate how these people are invaluable to a successful bike rider.
I’ve had the opportunity to reflect on the support I’ve been so lucky to have in my cycling “career”. To start with my first team as an under-16, riding for Cycle Division, who made me feel like part of a bike-mad family. Then moving onto Beeston. BCC Race Team is the only other getup I’ve permanently raced for since I was 18. Having raced for the squad for coming up on four years I’ve become very fond of everyone within the organisation and hopefully the feeling is mutual. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought of applying to other teams over the years to maybe propel me higher in the sport, but I’ve never done so and for me it’s clear why. After being diagnosed with Avascular Necrosis, the team have been incredibly supportive. They’ve continued to back me and my ability, despite the ongoing risk that every race I do could be my last.
I’ve been so lucky growing up that I’ve always had a parent at the side of the rugby pitch or roadside to answer my every wish and request. But having gone it alone recently at various races including Lincoln and the third round of the National U23 series it’s obvious that I would’ve struggled without the support staff and other parents at BCC. Being in a position where I’ve finished a race and can’t lift my leg over the top tube due to pain or stiffness in my hip and quite literally leaning on my teammates to keep me upright is in many respects the most appropriate way to describe my time at the team this season and I couldn’t be more grateful for the support I have received.
The same goes for the University of Nottingham. I think it is telling that as a consequence of my previous journal entry, multiple alumni have reached out to share anecdotes of their own positive experiences at the university. I will always affirm that the cycling club is one of, if not the most, welcoming and supportive in the country from athletes to coaches to physios, whilst still aiming to perform at the highest level. It is no secret that as a member of the performance squad, I’ve used an inordinate amount of the club allocated physio sessions, I’ve also been seen at the squad’s weekly triage a fair few times too. I do not think I can express my gratitude in the few words I have here in a journal entry. However, in some respects, the time and effort that my teammates and staff placed into supporting me over the past few months left me with a self-induced feeling of pressure. I wanted to repay them for their efforts.
At a time where the future seems somewhat uncertain, I find myself feeling guilty that all these people are putting their time, and in some cases money into me, without the certainty that I could reward them through race results. But the words of our S&C coach will always sit with me. I was returning from a rather unreassuring doctor’s appointment and in classic George fashion went straight to the gym on my return to continue with training. When my peers asked how it went, because they are all lovely and caring, a rather vulnerable George couldn’t quite contain his emotions. I went to one side with our coach and explained these feelings of uncertainty and guilt. He illustrated to me that as a performance coach at one of the most successful sporting institutes in the country, his main priority was ensuring that I left the university as a better person than when I arrived. That his main focus was our wellbeing and happiness. Medals were simply a side product. I don’t think this is always the attitude of sporting coaches but I’m lucky enough to have this support in abundance.
Despite the reassurance of my peers and coaches I still place far too much pressure on myself to perform to a standard that I know I can achieve. A feeling I am quite confident is shared amongst many riders in the British peloton. It’s this pressure which has led me to be writing this journal from a sunbed in Mallorca, pulling out of the National Championships and having left my bike at home. Having completely burnt myself out after months of training, racing and university work I’ve left myself so completely frustrated and exhausted that training is virtually impossible. Despite starting the season with no expectations due to my hip, or lack of hip, I’ve still managed to virtually blow myself up.
Once again, I have no doubt become rather insufferable and grumpy. It’s as though I am in my car, on the way back from a race, underperforming, yet this feeling follows me round constantly. But the feeling of loneliness couldn’t be further from the truth. I am lucky enough to be on holiday with the most amazing girlfriend anyone can wish for. After getting pulled at Lincoln and understandably rather angered with my subpar performance, I finally found her after the race, and she was simply ecstatic that she’d seen me in the peloton and managed to cheer me on. She isn’t bothered if I lose or even finish a race, either way, I’m still her winner. I can’t say this is an attitude I share, I think she has become accustomed to the competitive nature I no doubt inherited from my father. But she is proud of me, even if I cannot say the same about myself. In my last journal I wanted to illustrate that tough times will come to an end and to encourage everyone to keep going on. In this entry I want to reiterate the fact that it is so much harder to do this alone.
For those reading that are perhaps feeling isolated, I cannot tell you that anyone else is going through the same thing as you. In my experience everyone is tackling their own unique lives and issues, and you should never try to compare yourself to what someone else is dealing with. But what I will say is that there is almost always someone to talk to. We live in a world where you can contact anyone by pressing a button and in my limited experience, people are often much nicer than you would expect. They are also usually open to hearing you out.
And for those that are reading who can relate to my experiences make sure you let those people, like my girlfriend, my parents or coaches, know how grateful you are. The people that are obviously ecstatic if you win, but care for you regardless and just want to see you happy. I am confident that most of you cyclists that race on the weekends, across the country and the globe, like me have at least a few people in your corner. Handing out bottles, driving you around, booking accommodation. So, whilst my first journal entry hopefully inspired people to persevere and keep on going, I would like this one to show my appreciation to everyone that supports me, and hopefully it will inspire you to thank those people that don’t appear on the results list.
Featured image: Gary Hibbert
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George Stephen journal: the highs, the lows, and rock bottom
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