From License in Hand to Starting Line: My Next Chapter in Chasing Pro at 36

Ever feel like life hands you a plot twist just when you thought you were scripting the ending? A few weeks back, I was musing about the wild idea of dipping a toe into pro cycling at 36, nothing fancy, just a Continental team stint to see if the legs still had stories to tell. Now I’ve got a UCI license tucked in my kit bag, an elite race series on the calendar here in Spain for the new year, and the sense that this whole “what if” experiment is getting very real, very quickly.

The UCI license was the first real hurdle cleared proof that the dream isn’t just daydreaming anymore. Getting that official stamp felt like things are in motion. Even if it’s just domestic circuits for now. The next step was on me: I reached out to a racing academy, yeah I did it on a whim and thought I’d see what they would say, I sent over my power data and background, and braced for silence. Instead, they came back with genuine interest. We’ve been talking over email, trading numbers and context, and I’ve got a call lined up with them this week to see what this could turn into. It’s not a contract, but it’s a conversation and in cycling, those are often the first real doors that open.

Come January, I’ll be toeing the line in Spain’s elite scene, racing against the kind of riders who treat these events as stepping stones to Continental and pro contracts. The great part is I have sponsors who support me in this and a new one I will be sharing very soon.

These aren’t Sunday fondos btw, they’re fast, tactical, and unforgiving, the climbs are as real as they get and I’ve got 0 chance in the flat stages for sprint. For me, that’s the point. I want to find out if the fitness I’ve built on my own can survive contact with a full-speed peloton, and whether my late-blooming numbers look as good in the chaos of an elite race as they do on a tidy training file.

This whole thing was never about overnight glory. The dream is still the same: a one-year shot with a Continental squad, even on a modest salary, to live the rhythm of pro racing and maybe help shepherd a few younger riders along the way. But with a license in hand, an elite series on the horizon, and an academy willing to hop on a call and talk watts and potential, the path doesn’t feel hypothetical anymore. It feels like a story that’s actively being written.

At 36, I’m not the prodigy; I’m the plot twist. Maybe I’m not supposed to be here, nudging at the edges of the pro game but that’s exactly why I’m pushing. The window might be narrow, but it’s open just enough to squeeze through. And as long as that’s true, I’m going to keep heading toward it.

Because life is never fun when you look back and say “what if”.

Un saludo

Julian