Lara Gillespie: ‘I am known as a nomad on my team. I'm a bit more chaotic than other cyclists because of where I am from’
HISTORY MAKER: 23-year-old Wicklow native Lara Gillespie on Thursday became the first Irish cyclist to win an elite title at the European track championships.
For long cycles, Lara Gillespie breaks the five hours or so down to a set playlist. Two hours of silence, two hours of podcasts, the last hour of maximum efforts call for motivational music.
On a recent training camp in Majorca, she opted for an audiobook with a particular visualisation prompt: Picture yourself exactly where you would like to be right now. Choose any location in the world and any activity under the sun.
“I hadn’t been home in over 30 days,” she recalls. “I hadn’t seen my boyfriend in over 30 days. But it was like, just envision yourself where you would like to be right now and I thought, ‘I can’t picture myself anywhere. This is where I want to be.’ I was on the coast, it was 20 degrees, there were nice trees and just enjoying it.
“My identity is cycling, but for the right reasons. Because I enjoy being out in nature. I enjoy pushing myself. It’s not that I’m going out thinking, if I don’t win this championship, I’m not a good person.’” The 23-year-old Wicklow native is a generational talent. A track and road cyclist, 2024 saw a top-10 finish at the Olympics, progression to the World Tour with her UAE Team ADQ and a first senior medal at the World Track Championships.
She is speaking before she made history last Thursday as the first Irish cyclist to win an elite title at the European track championships. This was part of the plan. Her 2025 focus is road racing. It is her first full season on a World Tour team. On the track, there are these Europeans and Worlds in October.
It is relentless. Both seasons are long, they also overlap. Her first road race was in early January and it runs until October. The World Championships for track were last October, with another three disciplines to come in the Europeans. Welcome to her spinning world.
“It takes up my whole life,” she says, smiling at three messy suitcases scattered around the Zoom camera. Part of this is the occupational hazard of coming from Ireland. It is an island, meaning she can’t drive to races like French or Spain rivals. It is cold, a challenge for a career that necessitates hours upon hours outdoors.
“It's just not good for my job. So, you do have to be travelling to other places. You are chasing the sun. I am known as a nomad on my team. I'm a bit more chaotic than other cyclists because of where I am from.” This made her uniquely well-suited to avoid any post-Olympics blues. The entire time in France felt like any other championship. She races against the same women throughout the year. There was no grand expectation of a medal. She hopes she has earned that by the time LA comes around.
“Sometimes I come home and I'm speaking to other athletes… When I'm at the Olympic Bowl, for example. I was speaking to some of the gymnasts or the other sports, and then they're saying, but do you not get to go to parties and stuff?
“I’m like, what? No. Our job is so demanding. You don't get a weekend off. If you had two rest days in a row, that would be unheard of. It is our endurance sport. You have to be full-time. This is the full-time me.
“But that doesn't mean I don't enjoy doing other things. I’m not living in a… Ok. Yeah, I think we're probably living in a bubble because of the amount of training that we have, the amount of training camps we have to do. But I suppose I’m saying, that is what it takes.” Her podcast rotation alternates between episodes related to her UCD Health and Performance Science degree or ‘My Therapist Ghosted Me.’ Training alone can have all sorts of unintended consequences. A few weeks ago, she elected to perform efforts without any music and was stunned by the rasping noise of her fatigued exhales.
Coming from a country without a proven pathway, or national velodrome, has all sorts of implications. Consider race craft, she says. First things first, what exactly is race craft?
“It’s that intuition and then trusting it, having that knowledge on how to race,” Gillespie explains with a smile. “It is knowing how to win a race. It is really hard to just learn. Especially at this age.
“A lot of the people that I'm racing with now are from the Netherlands for example, they've been racing all their lives. They're showing me pictures of them in a bunch at the age of five and they did all these international races.
“Right now, I'm really learning how to do the crosswind sections, which is basically when it is really windy coming in from one side. A lot of people have just learned this specific race craft of how to ride in a peloton in the strong wind.
“But for me, I never had that experience. When I'm training at home and it is super, super windy, I'm usually on my own. Even if you race at home with a group, the girls’ bunch isn’t that big or I’m in a men's bunch and that is just full gas the whole time. You don't even think about race craft. You're just thinking about holding on.” It comes down – in the end – to a combination of power and precision. Strength and smarts.
“You want to make the group smaller. Try to push everyone else to the side of the road where there is the least amount of shelter and then it is just your team group. It’s really a team effort. You're basically trying to make a group with your team and block everyone else out. Everyone else gets out the back because they're taking all the wind, you're only sheltering your teammates.
“The person at the front and on the side of the wind could be pushing 400 watts, whereas the person being sheltered to the left of them could be like 100, 200 watts and then you take your turn in the wind. We’re doing this like circular action basically. If you can plan an attack to in a crosswind you can really drastically reduce the bunch size and then it increases your chance of winning.” Communication is crucial. Riders wear earpieces and mics. They are connected to the team car and manager, who are watching live TV coverage as well. She tucks her chin into her shoulder to show how they have to talk. “You don’t want other teams to hear.” This close to the summit, where the air is really thin, all the small things matter.
“There are so many photo finishes now,” she says. The difference can be a few centimetres, depending on who lowers their head first. Again, Gillespie demonstrates a lunge for the line to explain how close it can get. This is the fine line she must tread.
On the road, how do you stay aerodynamic for as long as possible to save watts? On the track, timing a sprint to get that reward of two extra points while risking tipping over the edge. Every new bike is tested extensively to check if there is a positive or negative watt difference. It all adds up.
“You realise when you see the small differences. Ok, I really need to wear my aero helmet. I really need to wear my overshoes. I really need to stay aero because if I’m not doing that and my competitor is, you are losing 100 watts and then you’re just gone.” She is endlessly positive. It is how she was raised and how it has to be. She sees how negative riders impact training groups and themselves. "Double torture." She also wants to win. When she pictures the 2028 Olympics, she sees herself on the podium. But that triumph isn’t about her.
“It's the people, like the people who are showing up and who are putting in the groundwork,” she explains.
“In cycling, there are so many people that you don't ever see. The mechanics, they just never sleep, both track and road. I remember at training camp two weeks ago; they were working until so late at night. And then they were the first ones there. Every morning, they are the first ones gone at breakfast. There are people that are just working so hard and tirelessly for others. The physios, the masseurs.
“So then if you come fourth and they've put in all this work, they can't go to their family and say, ‘yeah, it went great, but she came fourth. You can’t even see it on TV.’ “I think those little things I've noticed when I come back with a medal, it makes such a difference for the people around it all. The coaches, the people at home. For me, it's obviously really cool.
“But to me, third and fourth are very similar. It's not winning. The difference is tiny. But when you come home and everyone hears about a medal, it does make a difference and you hear them saying, oh, it was so great to watch that.
“Most likely, they only watched the highlights back because there was a medal. They're like, ‘That was the highlight of my week. I was feeling sick that day. And then I was so happy and all of that. You hear all of those stories and what it does for them. I think that is why I really love sport.”
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