I didn’t come into cycling looking for shortcuts or quick validation. I’ve been racing bikes since I was 11 years old, and over time the sport has taught me things that don’t always show up on results sheets — patience, restraint, and the importance of thinking clearly under pressure. Cycling has a way of revealing who you are over years rather than moments, and that long view is what has kept me committed to it.
What draws me in isn’t just how hard someone can ride, but *when* they choose to do it. I pay close attention to how races unfold beneath the surface — how positioning matters long before the decisive moment, how energy spent too early is rarely recovered, and how composure often matters more than aggression. I’m interested in timing, efficiency, and decision-making — the quieter parts of racing that separate strong riders from effective ones.
Today, I race as a Category 2 cyclist on the track, continuing to refine my craft while building toward higher levels. I approach training and competition deliberately, with a focus on fundamentals, repetition, and consistency. I believe real progress happens quietly, through preparation and discipline, long before it becomes visible.
I’m currently in a phase of intentional construction. Learning the track more deeply. Learning the road with patience. Learning myself through repetition and reflection. I’m interested in understanding *why* things work, not just copying what looks impressive. Every race, every training block, every setback is data — something to learn from rather than rush past.
In April, I turn 29. I don’t see that as a limitation — I see it as clarity. I understand my motivations better now than I did when I was younger. I’m more disciplined with my time, more deliberate with my effort, and more realistic about what long-term development requires. I’m comfortable with long horizons and delayed outcomes.
My long-term vision is clear. Over the next five to ten years, I’m working toward becoming an Olympic Omnium rider, an Olympic road race rider, and eventually a Grand Tour cyclist. Not because those goals sound impressive on paper, but because they represent the highest level of mastery in this sport — physically, mentally, and strategically. They demand patience, adaptability, and years of focused work.
I’m realistic about the scale of that commitment. I understand the volume of training, the learning curve, the sacrifices, and the uncertainty involved. There are no guarantees. What I do believe in is committing fully to the process: building a strong foundation, staying curious, staying healthy, and refining my approach year after year.
I don’t expect progress to be loud or fast. I expect it to be earned. I care more about becoming capable than becoming visible. Over time, I want my preparation, my decision-making, and my consistency to speak for themselves.
Cycling has become a way for me to practice thinking clearly when I’m tired, managing effort over long durations, and trusting preparation when outcomes aren’t immediate. These skills compound — not just in sport, but in life. I’m interested in mastery, not moments.
This isn’t about proving anything overnight. It’s about steadily becoming someone who can perform at the highest level when it counts, because the work has already been done. I’m committed to that path, wherever it leads, and I’m willing to take the long way if that’s what it requires.
I’m here to build patiently, aim high, and do the work.