Tuesday mornings feel different.
Monday is always my off day. No alarms, no structured sessions, just recovery, stretching, letting my body breathe. But Tuesday marks the real beginning of the week. The reset. The moment my coach gently reminds me, in advance, that this week is not going to be easy.
And honestly, I kind of love that.
For the past month, my training has been about coming back. Building the base. Teaching my body to trust movement again after injury. Easy miles, controlled effort, patience. This week, though, the tone shifted.
“This week will be challenging,” my coach said.
And he meant it.
The Shift From Base Building to Real Work
Base training is quiet work.
It doesn’t look impressive. It doesn’t give you big numbers to brag about. It’s about consistency, rebuilding trust with your body, and laying foundations you can’t rush.
But once that base is there, the real work begins.
This Tuesday morning cycling session was exactly that moment. A reminder that progress doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from asking your body to do something it’s not used to, and showing up anyway.
The session was structured in three parts. Each one had a clear purpose, and each one challenged me in a different way.
Learning to Ride Uncomfortably
The first part of the ride was on the small chainring, with the cassette set at 13. Controlled, steady, almost deceivingly manageable.
Then came the second and third rounds.
The first hard interval required me to maintain a speed between 34 to 36 kilometers per hour. The next two rounds moved to the big chainring, 53, with the cassette at 19. Cadence had to stay between 95 and 100.
That number matters more than it sounds.
Because cadence is my weakness.
Cadence, Control, and Humility
Right now, my cadence on the bike is slow.
The power is there. I can push. I can grind. But getting my legs to move fast, smoothly, and efficiently? That’s the struggle.
And this session made that very clear.
High cadence feels chaotic when you’re not used to it. Your heart rate jumps. Your legs feel like they’re flailing. Your mind starts questioning everything.
Why does this feel so hard?
Why can everyone else do this so naturally?
But cadence is everything in cycling.
High cadence means efficiency. It means using less muscular force and more rhythm. It saves energy. It protects your legs over long distances.
My entire team focuses on cadence. And for a good reason.
The Parallel Between Cycling and Running
What makes this even more interesting is that I already understand cadence, just in a different sport.
In running, cadence clicked for me earlier. I run with a high cadence now. My steps are lighter. My movement feels smoother. I waste less energy.
Cycling is teaching me that mastery doesn’t transfer automatically. Each discipline humbles you in its own way.
Even before my injury, cycling cadence was a struggle. So after five to six weeks of rebuilding my base, my coach decided it was time.
Time to train the weakness directly.
Training What Will Make You Better, Not What Feels Good
There’s a moment in every session where you realize the goal isn’t comfort.
The goal is adaptation.
This cadence work is not about today’s ride. It’s about teaching my legs to move fast without panic. To stay relaxed while working hard. To trust rhythm over force.
And once that clicks, everything changes.
When cadence is under control, cycling becomes efficient. Powerful without being exhausting. Sustainable.
That’s when I can become a very good cyclist.
Not because I’m pushing harder, but because I’m moving smarter.
Training in the Real World, Not a Perfect One
There’s another challenge that doesn’t show up on training plans.
Traffic.
We usually train on Saigon Bridge. Each loop is around 10 kilometers. It’s a beautiful stretch, especially at sunrise. But timing matters.
Lately, I’ve been waking up around 5:15 a.m. By the time I get ready and start training, I finish close to 7 a.m.
For most people, that’s early.
For my team, it’s late.
By then, the roads are full. Bikes, motorbikes, cars. The focus required to hold cadence and speed becomes much harder when you’re constantly navigating traffic.
It’s not ideal. But it’s real life.
Adjusting the System, Not Complaining About It
Instead of complaining, I set a new goal.
Thursday, I wake up earlier.
Earlier wake-up means quieter roads. Fewer distractions. Better quality training.
This is something endurance sports teach you again and again. If the environment isn’t working, adjust the system.
Don’t blame the session.
Don’t blame the coach.
Don’t blame the city.
Change what you can control.
Why Morning Training Creates Momentum
By the time I finished this ride, I felt alive.
Tired, yes. Challenged, absolutely. But deeply energized.
Training in the morning does something special. It sets a tone. It creates momentum that carries into everything else.
So many people ask me the same questions.
“How do you make time?”
“Where do you get the energy?”
And my answer is always the same.
Training gives me energy.
It gives me clarity. Confidence. A sense of progress before the day even begins.
Discipline Is Quiet, Not Loud
There’s nothing glamorous about waking up early to struggle through a cadence drill in traffic.
No one is clapping.
No one is watching.
No one even knows.
But that’s where discipline lives.
In the quiet decision to show up.
In the willingness to work on weaknesses.
In the patience to trust the process.
This is true in training. And it’s true in life.
When You Finish Training, You Finish Excuses
After a hard session, everything else feels lighter.
Emails feel manageable.
Meetings feel calmer.
Problems feel solvable.
Because you already did the hardest thing that day.
You asked your body to do something difficult, and it listened.
That builds trust.
Getting Ready for the Week Ahead
This Tuesday reminded me of something simple but powerful.
Progress doesn’t always feel good in the moment.
But it always feels meaningful afterward.
This week is going to be challenging. I know that already.
But I’m ready.
Because every difficult session is not just physical training. It’s practice for showing up fully in life, even when it’s uncomfortable.
And that’s a skill worth building.