The First "I Can Do It Too" Person

Last week, a group of us were given the opportunity to race in a gravel cycling event in Girona. It was our chance to be the "they can do it" people. The people someone else might see and think: Maybe I can do it too.

Words: Hamadel Ndiaye

Photos: Hamadel & Laura Fletcher (Peloton Brief)

It was my first time riding a gravel bike and my first proper gravel race, needless to say, I was super excited and a bit nervous about crashes and mechanicals with all the stories I'd heard.

4 of us were granted a scholarship to help with travel and accommodation costs, a gravel bike to race on, entry to the race, and a lovely Castelli x Cycling Culture Club jersey.

To me, the goal was clear: create the story you can tell later.

In my previous article, I spoke about representation and the idea that the obvious categorising trait is often what people see first. Skin colour, gender, age, body shape. Whatever stands out from afar. And that is fine. It is human.

In a race picture, someone might see me and first notice that I am Black. Hopefully, that makes them curious enough to look a little closer. Curious enough to wonder how I got on, what the experience was like, whether I enjoyed it. And THAT is where the magic happens.

Because once someone looks beyond the surface, they might find other layers they can relate to.

Maybe they identify with being Black. Maybe they do not. Maybe they had never heard of gravel cycling before. Maybe they have a similar event near their area and had never considered it. Maybe they had never thought about travelling abroad to try something new. Maybe they simply see someone doing something unfamiliar and think: I never thought of this, but maybe I can apply that same idea somewhere in my own life.

That is the point. It is not just about the bike.

After a hard first half hour of racing, with about 60km still to go, I found myself in the breakaway. There were five of us, and I was confident the group could work well together. For a moment, it felt like the perfect situation. Then gravel did what gravel does...

A series of punctures and mechanical issues completely changed the day. What should have been a quick fix turned into over an hour of trying to sort things out. By the time it was all done, I had gone from being at the front of the race to being dead last, far behind everyone else.

At that point, the plan was simple: walk for 30 minutes to a spot where the organisers could pick me up and drive me back to event HQ. Not exactly the glorious Girona gravel story I had in mind.

Luckily, thanks to a few kind participants who had stopped earlier and a mountain biker randomly passing by as I was walking, everything was fixed, and I was able to get back on the bike. That 30-minute walk to the pickup point was going to be a 5 minutes ride.

Then came the internal debate.

"Surely I cannot just DNF like that now that I can ride the bike again."

"Yeah, but what if I puncture again? I have no more spares."

"I came all the way to Girona for this. What a cool opportunity. It cannot just go to waste."

"Yeah, but if anything happens now, there is no one else around to help. It is getting hot. I might run out of hydration."

"It won't be the first time someone has mechanical issues and manages to finish the race, maybe I can do it too."

So I carried on.

Nothing heroic, just a small decision in the middle of a messy race and that is also part of the story.

Because representation is not only about the shiny picture at the start line or the idea that you belong when everything is going well. Sometimes it is about showing the less glamorous bits too. The issues, the mishaps, the doubts, the moment where you are standing on the side of the road questioning your choices, and then deciding to keep going anyway. Not because you are fearless, but because you are already there.

Because you are lucky to have the opportunity. Because you came for an experience, and this is part of it too.

Maybe someone hears that and thinks: "I would have felt exactly the same" or "maybe if I found myself in that situation, I could deal with it too".

That is another layer beneath the surface, that is another way to relate.

Merida, our host and also part of Cycling Culture Club, shared a TED Talk about starting a movement. The idea is simple: someone starts dancing alone on a hill and looks completely ridiculous. Then one person joins in. Then another. Then a few more. Suddenly, what looked weird a minute ago becomes the thing everyone wants to be part of.

The talk makes an interesting point. Yes, it takes courage to be the first person, ignore how it looks, step out, and do the thing anyway. But the first follower is just as important, the first "I can do it too" person. Because they are the first person to say: This is okay to join. They make it less strange for everyone else.

Now, I am not saying we are starting a movement here. We are just riding bikes, getting lost, getting punctures, sweating too much, making questionable decisions, and convincing ourselves it is all character-building.

But maybe that is enough.

Maybe just joining in IS the point.

Maybe talking about the experience honestly makes it less daunting for someone else. Maybe the next person does not need to be convinced with a big inspirational speech and just need to see the full story: the nerves, the excitement, the mistakes, the problem-solving, the joy, the "what am I doing here?" moments.

And maybe they think: Actually, I could join in too.

That is what I hope sharing this does; not make it look easy, not make it look like you need to be special to be there. In fact, quite the opposite. I hope it makes it look possible, because seeing a success story doesn't necessarily get someone through the door, sometimes it is seeing someone who looks like them, or thinks like them, or doubts like them, giving it a go and figuring it out along the way.

Last week, we got the chance to be visible in a space where maybe some people do not often see themselves.

We got the chance to be the “I can do it too” people, following the footstep of others.

Hopefully, someone, somewhere sees it and also thinks: maybe I can too.