My First Road Bike Race: A Beginner's Pre-Race Fears and the Joy of Finishing

The Moment That Made Me Summon the Courage to Sign Up

I’ve been riding a road bike for about a year and a half, averaging between 150 and 200 kilometers per week. I wouldn’t call myself a serious training rider, but I’m not purely a recreational cyclist either. Last year, my riding buddy Xiao Lin sent me a registration link for a local road race, saying, “The beginner category doesn’t have a high bar—why not give it a shot?”

I read the information over and over, closed it, then opened it again three days later. Finally, 48 hours before the registration deadline, I hit the submit button.

The moment the registration went through, my first thought wasn’t excitement—it was regret.

Two Months Before the Race: Forcing Myself to Train Amid Anxiety

The race distance was 75 kilometers with about 1,200 meters of climbing. The beginner category had no strict timing, with finishing as the primary goal. On paper, this difficulty shouldn’t have been too much for me, but I just couldn’t calm down.

I started searching for articles about “participating in your first road race” and read every piece of pre-race advice I could find: fueling strategies, pacing methods, bike inspection checklists, race-day procedures… The more I read, the more anxious I became.

A friend told me, “You’re overthinking this. Just treat it like a long training ride.”

I knew he was right, but I just couldn’t get past that mental hurdle.

For training, I increased my weekly mileage to around 250 kilometers, focusing on interval sessions simulating race intensity and long-endurance rides. On one occasion, I deliberately rode two laps on the mountain roads near the race route to familiarize myself with the terrain—but it only made me more worried. That climb was steeper than I’d imagined.

One Week Before the Race: Obsessive Equipment Checks

One week before the race, I took my bike to the shop for a full check-up. I replaced the brake pads, had the shifting system readjusted, and set the tire pressure to the recommended maximum. Then, every night, I’d go back and feel the tires and brakes again, making sure there wasn’t some issue I’d missed.

I also drafted at least three versions of my fueling plan:

• Version 1: Refuel every 20 kilometers, three times total
• Version 2: Adjust based on feel, taking an energy bar every 30 minutes
• Version 3: Stop at every aid station

In the end, I went with Version 1.

Choosing what to wear also had me agonizing for an entire afternoon. Race jersey or my usual training jersey? I ultimately picked the one I was most familiar with, on the principle of “don’t try anything new on race day”—a principle that later proved to be correct.

Race Day: A Chaotic Start and Finding My Rhythm

The night before, I barely slept, endlessly rehearsing various scenarios in my head. When the 4:30 AM alarm went off, I actually felt relieved—it was finally here.

Arriving at the start, I saw hundreds of bikes lined up neatly, riders greeting each other and checking their gear. The atmosphere was far friendlier than I’d expected. Most riders in the beginner category were chatting and laughing—not the tense, competitive vibe I’d imagined.

The gun went off. We started.

For the first few kilometers, I rode very conservatively, letting many riders pass me—but this actually helped me find my own rhythm. When the first climb arrived, I chose to ascend steadily at an aerobic pace, neither chasing after others nor panicking when I got overtaken.

Around the 35-kilometer mark was the hardest climb of the entire course, with gradients holding between 7 and 9 percent for 4 straight kilometers. On that stretch, I thought of every hill I’d climbed in training and told myself: get through this, and the aid station is right ahead.

The Final 10 Kilometers: Burning Legs and a Heart That Refused to Stop

Entering the final 10 kilometers, my legs were in a state of considerable fatigue, but a strange clarity had settled over my mind. I began actively calculating distances, assessing my remaining energy, adjusting my cadence, and trying to maintain a steady output.

The finish arch appeared in the distance, and I almost wanted to stand up and sprint—but reason reminded me, “Don’t have an accident at this point.” So I stayed seated, picked up the pace slightly, and crossed the finish line.

The numbers on the timing board meant nothing to me—I wasn’t fast enough, and my ranking was surely far down the list—but I genuinely didn’t care. All I knew was that that finish line had been earned through two months of training and countless sleepless nights of anxiety. Crossing it was worth every bit of the pre-race nerves.

For First-Time Racers

A few days after the race, I organized my takeaways into a few points to share with newcomers who were just as nervous as I once was:

• Pre-race anxiety is normal, even necessary—it means you truly care
• Make “finishing” your primary goal, not your placing
• Don’t try anything new on race day (gear, fueling, or strategy)
• The atmosphere at the start is friendlier than you imagine
• After you finish, you’ll immediately want to sign up for the next one

As for that last point—I’ve already registered for my second race.

Related Reading

• Your First Road Race: A Complete Preparation Guide from Registration to Finish
• First Time Riding in the Main Peloton: The Shock and Awe of a Road Race Debut
• Your First Cycling Race: A Complete Preparation Checklist and Mental Readiness Guide for Beginners
• Riding Your First 100 Kilometers: Complete Reflections on a Beginner’s First Long-Distance Challenge