It’s nearly six years since that cold January morning when I wandered downstairs, glanced up from the headlines and murmured to my mum, “This could be really quite bad, couldn’t it?” Over the next two years, my naive worry was more than borne out. With lockdowns, masks and social distancing, Covid-19 turned the world on its head; most of us ended up catching the virus, and a significant minority, me included, are still feeling the effects – on our cycling and on our lives.

Come spring 2022, I thought I’d dodged the worst of it. I was into my second year racing for Zappi Racing Team – a traditional yet brilliant setup for those aiming to turn pro via U23 Italian racing and UCI events. My ambition was to start the Baby Giro (now called the Giro Next Gen). In truth, I wasn’t good enough to make it to the next level. Competing in the best races an under-23 can do, I was receiving a royal head-kicking every time. But training hundreds of kilometres a week and attempting to follow the pace of Juan Ayuso, Michel Hessman or Mason Hollyman, to name a few, does wonders for one’s fitness, even if it is rather painful. But then it happened: I caught Covid-19.

At first the symptoms seemed really mild. That said, my ego took a hit when my resting heart rate, usually a boast-worthy 47bpm, rose to around 80bpm for a few days, while a moderate fever left me shivering in the Italian spring. There was no dramatic cough, no bed rest – it was, at worst, a minor setback. Or so I thought as I strove to do the sensible thing: two weeks off, before easing back with endurance rides. Which is where my real problems began.

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Training volume that was once mere background noise now left me with swollen glands and a tiredness I can only describe as like disembarking an overnight long-haul flight. Much of the following three months were spent with my eyes shut, sleeping 12 hours a night, sometimes more. I was living in a fishbowl of foggy, jet-laggy fatigue. When I did manage a ride, I encountered the strangest symptom of all, one that still holds me back today. I call it my ‘rev limiter’. I was OK at tempo, but the moment I nudged above it – anything approaching Zone 4 – my chest tightened, my heart rate spiked and for 15 minutes refused to subside, and I tasted a metallic tang in my mouth, like bleeding gums after a sprint. It wasn’t lactic. It was like driving a Lamborghini around a city centre: craving 6,000rpm but pinned at 2,000rpm. Racing my bike had become a pipe dream.

recovery. In reality, I did what most athletes do when the body bounces cheques it used to cash with ease: I argued with it. I tried to nudge, then negotiate, then out-stubborn biology. I cycled round the NHS getting blood tests (all normal, bar low potassium), took time out from racing, cut down riding, cut it out entirely, and discovered that pride is a surprisingly heavy thing to carry when you’re already crawling.

Three years on from the worst of it, the racing chapter is now closed. The rev-limiter hangover from Covid-19 means I still couldn’t race if I wanted to. This isn’t a tragedy, nor a misery memoir about how Long Covid stopped me winning the Tour. I have had time to reflect, reframe the importance of cycling in my life – for fun, not a livelihood – but nonetheless I’m eager to understand what Long Covid is and its consequences on my health and that of thousands of cyclists like me.

Emily Chappell. “I got Covid in the summer of 2022 while leading the Le Loop,” she says – the annual ride that traces the Tour de France route ahead of the pros. “Every day one or two riders dropped out with Covid. Eventually I woke up with symptoms. I didn’t test positive, but it was 90% certain.” The timing – and the pressure – couldn’t have been worse. “It was my job. I felt I needed to be there. So I carried on riding 200km a day over mountains. In hindsight, it was a really bad idea.”

Afterwards came exhaustion, breathlessness and confusion. “At first you just think, ‘bad day, try again tomorrow.’ But I wasn’t bouncing back. I’d always thought the solution to feeling tired was to get on the bike – and suddenly that just made things worse.” Progress was halting; recovery nonlinear. “I’d improve, then relapse. The symptoms, tiredness and breathlessness, are identical to being unfit, so you feel guilty and try harder. The athlete’s mentality – don’t give up, push through – is completely wrong for this.”

Emily Chappell standing in front of a graffitied wall

Chappell has learnt that Long Covid needs long recovery

(Image credit: Future)

A Long Covid clinic helped Chappell reframe things. “The biggest shift has been psychological. I’ve had to accept that sometimes trying hard makes me worse. That’s been huge – rewriting a lifetime’s approach.” There are still ups and downs, but she’s cautiously hopeful. “I do a little exercise every day, no big binges. I’m optimistic I’m on a gradual upward slope. But I’ve had to learn patience. And grief. And that slowing down doesn’t mean giving up – it just means living differently.”

Chappell regrets that she ignored her initial symptoms and tried to power on through. Sinclair admits to making similar mistakes. “I fell into this trap myself trying to go back to exercise far too soon, far too intensely every time. But I learned the lessons because it laid me up in bed for days afterwards. So we have this post-exertional malaise which occurs if we are not up to the task.” Listening to Chappell’s and Sinclair’s stories, I winced – I’ve been that idiot too. If you’re used to stacking 30-hour weeks, it’s hard to accept that a dog walk and a trip to the post office is your new Alpe d’Huez.

“I HAVE MANAGED TO REDISCOVER MY LOVE OF A SIMPLE BIKE RIDE”

So what should we have done to minimise the risks? “Firstly, never train with a fever,” says Sinclair. “I use heart rate as a barometer in terms of training safety, and I’d recommend not pushing your heart rate above about 130bpm while you’re still feeling fatigued.” He urges athletes to follow the ‘graduated return to play’ protocol after any viral infection (see box). I wish I’d been more cautious three years ago. The body takes time to react, and in the meantime you can do quite a lot of damage, as I found out. “Restorative deep sleep is another one of the most important things we can do as well,” adds Sinclair.

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