Australia’s WorldTour race on my local roads fills me with pride, but as the years go on it feels like hosting international friends in a house that is visibly on fire Sweat rolls off my brow as my legs roll powerless beneath me. Eyes fixed on my glowing bike computer screen, watching as my heart rate climbs faster than the power that can be produced by my legs. 150, 160, 170bpm. How long has that been? I wipe the bead of sweat obscuring the timer. Only five minutes. I can barely squeeze in each breath, and the walls feel like they’re closing in. Yes, walls. Because it’s not the sun’s glare making this ride unbearable. Outside, it’s freezing. It’s October. But inside, we’re sealed within sterile white walls and glass windows glistening with condensation, sweat puddling on the floor. Continue reading...