They’re gone.
Here begins the emotional journey every rider must face: the five stages of realising your glorious, sun-fuelled summer legs have packed up, moved out, and left you with early-autumn mediocrity.
Stage one: Denial
It’s not the legs. It’s the wind. Or your tyre pressure. Or the weird hummus you had yesterday.
You tell yourself it’s just a one-off bad day.
You glance at your average speed and laugh nervously.
You convince yourself you’re “saving energy for later” as you get dropped by the group’s least-threatening member — the one who usually brings banana bread.
You’re fine. Everything’s fine.
It’s not your legs. They just need five more minutes.
They will not bounce back.
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Stage two: Anger
You hit the first hill and your quads respond like overcooked spaghetti.
You’re seated. Then you’re standing. Then you’re spiralling.
Why am I like this?
Where did it all go? I was flying last month! I was KOM-ing things!
You start cursing your summer self for being so smug. You blame the weather, your job, your friends, sleep, pollen levels, Mercury in retrograde, and whoever invented September. You chew a gel aggressively and get zero results.
Stage three: Bargaining
You tell yourself: one good week of training and it’ll all come back.
Maybe a few intervals. A couple of hill reps. A juice cleanse. A new recovery supplement.
Maybe new socks? New socks might fix this.
You Google “how long does it take to regain fitness” while eating half a packet of ginger biscuits in your kit.
You promise to take your training seriously this time.
You download five new apps. You write a plan.
You ride once and immediately need a nap.
Stage four: Despair
This is who you are now.
You are a middle-of-the-pack, barely-hitting-zone-three, bottom-of-the-leaderboard husk of the rider you were in July. Your tan lines are fading. Your bibs feel a little tighter. Your legs are silent, your lungs are loud, and your bike is judging you.
You get passed on a climb by someone smiling. Smiling. You go home. You lie on the floor. You stare at the ceiling and wonder if Zwift is the answer. Or maybe badminton.
Stage five: Acceptance
Eventually, you accept it.
The summer legs were beautiful. Glorious. But temporary. They were born of long days, short sleeves, iced coffee and a reckless disregard for structured training. They gave you speed and joy and unjustified confidence.
But now it’s September. Now it’s layers and drizzle and slow cadence soul work. Now it’s base miles. It’s rebuilding. It’s humbling.
You nod. You zip up your jacket. You pack an extra snack. And you ride. Slower, maybe. But still riding.
Because the legs will come back.
Just in time for next summer. Or at least June.