I think I may have outridden my love for riding.
Not in a dramatic, sell-the-bike-and-take-up-pottery kind of way. More like this: the Zwift bike is standing there, ready and innocent, and I am walking past it like it owes me money.
The shoes are there. The fan is there. The towel is there. The little orange world of Watopia is waiting. And still, somehow, getting onto the bike feels heavier than the actual ride.
So I asked myself the uncomfortable question: have I lost my love for riding, or is my body just waving a tiny white flag with a gel wrapper tied to it?
First, winter is not nothing
Winter can absolutely mess with motivation.
Even if you ride indoors, your brain still knows what is going on outside. The mornings are colder. The light is softer. The evenings arrive too quickly. Everything feels a bit more duvet-shaped.
And when your normal training time suddenly feels dark, chilly, or rushed, the bike can start looking less like freedom and more like another task on the list.
That does not mean you are lazy. It may just mean your rhythm has changed. Your body might be asking for warmth, sleep, comfort, and a gentler doorway back into movement.
Winter training sometimes needs a smaller invitation.
Sometimes the problem is not that you hate riding. Sometimes the ride just looks too big from the couch.
Then there is the Daniel Fast
I am currently on Day 8 of the Daniel Fast, and I do think that could be part of the story.
The Daniel Fast is usually more plant-based and more restrictive than normal eating. Depending on how you do it, you may be eating fewer calories, less protein, less fat, less processed food, less sugar, and possibly fewer easy-to-train carbs.
That can be beautiful spiritually. It can also leave your legs sending passive-aggressive emails to your brain.
Indoor cycling, especially Zwift, can be sneaky. A “quick ride” often turns into a race, a climb, a sprint, a badge chase, or an accidental war with a stranger in a dinosaur costume. Your body still needs fuel for that.
If you are fasting and training at the same time, your motivation dip might not be emotional at all. It might be energy availability. Your body may simply be saying: “Please do not ask me for threshold intervals while I am powered by lentils, prayer, and one heroic banana.”
Maybe this is not burnout. Maybe it is a mismatch.
There is a difference between “I do not love cycling anymore” and “my current training expectations do not match my current season.”
Right now, I am in winter. I am fasting. I am probably not eating exactly the way I normally would. My body is adapting. My mind is quieter. My energy is different.
So maybe the answer is not to force a full training block with a whistle and clipboard.
Maybe the answer is to change the question.
Instead of asking, “Why can’t I train like normal?” I can ask, “What kind of riding fits this version of me?”
The gentle reset I am trying
I do not think the fix is to quit. I also do not think the fix is to attack myself with motivational quotes until I become unbearable.
The fix is smaller, softer, and probably more useful.
1. I only have to get dressed
Not ride for an hour. Not do intervals. Not prove I am still a cyclist.
Just put on the kit.
If I still feel awful after that, I can stop. But most of the time, getting dressed is the tiny hinge that opens the door.
2. I am allowed to do ten minutes
Ten minutes counts.
Ten minutes keeps the habit warm. Ten minutes tells my brain, “We still do this.” Ten minutes is not failure wearing tiny shoes. It is maintenance.
3. I am choosing easy rides on purpose
Not every Zwift session needs to become a courtroom drama between my ego and my FTP.
For now, easy rides are not lazy. They are smart. They let me move without completely draining the tank, especially while fasting.
4. I am checking my fuel before blaming my personality
If I feel flat, weak, cold, dizzy, unusually emotional, or completely uninterested in riding, I want to look at the basics first: food, sleep, hydration, electrolytes, stress, and recovery.
Sometimes “I have no discipline” is actually “I have not eaten enough to support what I am asking my body to do.”
5. I am letting this be a season, not a sentence
This feeling does not have to define my riding forever.
It may just be a winter patch. A fasting patch. A tired patch. A quiet patch. The bike and I are not breaking up. We are renegotiating the terms.
Need a softer way back onto the bike?
If Zwift feels a bit too loud right now, start with a simple indoor cycling setup, a short ride, and zero pressure to perform. Small rides still count. Quiet kilometres still count. You are still a cyclist, even on the days you need the gentle version.
So, what if I do not force it?
What if I stop treating every low-motivation day like a character flaw?
What if I accept that winter changes things, fasting changes things, and being human changes things?
Maybe I do not need to find my full riding fire today. Maybe I just need to keep one tiny ember alive.
Ten minutes. An easy spin. A warm room. A gentle route. No pressure. No punishment. No dramatic cycling identity crisis required.
Because maybe I have not outridden my love for riding.
Maybe I have just been asking it to shout when, right now, it only has enough energy to whisper.
Sometimes the bravest ride is not the hard one. It is the tiny one that gets you back through the door.
Gentle note: If you are fasting and you feel dizzy, faint, unusually weak, shaky, or unwell during training, stop and listen to your body. Speak to a doctor or dietitian if you are unsure, especially if you are combining fasting with harder workouts.
🩷The Endurance Diaries🩷
