Cyclingnews' welcomes retired professional cyclist Alice Wood as our newest columnist. Wood, or Alice Barnes before she was married, raced since she was a teenager, turning professional with Drops in 2016 and going on to ride for Canyon-SRAM and Human Powered Health.
Wood has been a double national champion, represented England and Great Britain at Commonwealth Games and World Championships, and took multiple wins in the UK and Europe as a professional. She retired at the end of 2024, and now works as a coach for SYNRGY and a commentator for Warner Brothers Discovery.
Retiring at 29 might sound absurd to most people, but not in professional cycling. When your career starts in your teens, and every decision revolves around racing, training, and recovery, 29 can feel like the end of a very long road. The question I kept circling back to wasn’t whether I could keep going, but whether I should.
Latest Videos From
Deciding when to retire from the sport you’ve given everything to is one of the hardest decisions a rider will ever make. Sometimes, the choice is made for you when a contract doesn’t materialise, or an injury takes you out. But I didn’t want that to be my story. I wanted to leave on my own terms, not because I had to, but because I chose to.
My sister Hannah stepped away from racing a year before I did, and watching her transition out of the sport shaped how I approached my own decision. Her back and hip issues didn’t outright prevent her from riding, but the pain stole the joy. Racing became a burden, and when her contract ended, so did her career. She didn’t ride again for over a year. It hit me, if this sport that had defined us for so long could lose its spark like that, I wanted to make sure I bowed out before that happened to me.
In February, I made the call that 2024 would be my final season. And once I said it out loud, something shifted. It felt like a weight had lifted. I was heading into a season without chasing a contract for the following year, which relieved me of so much stress. There was no pressure to impress, no scramble to earn a renewal. Every race was mine to enjoy, savour, and give everything to without a hidden agenda.
That mindset didn’t change how I trained or raced. I still showed up prepared, committed, and focused. But the motivation had shifted. I wasn’t trying to catch anyone’s attention or prove I deserved a spot. I just wanted to finish on a high, knowing I gave the sport everything I had. Performing my role as best as possible in that specific race, whether that was helping my team or racing for a result myself.
Throughout the season, I still had some strong results, mainly in the .1 and .2 races I’ve come to really enjoy in recent years. And with those results came the inevitable questions: "Are you really retiring?" "Don’t you want to keep going?"
But those performances didn’t make me doubt my choice; in fact, they confirmed it. I wasn’t crawling to the finish line. I was still contributing, still competitive. Although WorldTour races were a different story for me. Women’s cycling is changing so much, and to keep pace with the evolving level of the women’s peloton, I knew it would require even more: deeper sacrifices, bigger investments, more time, more energy. And mentally, I was already starting to step away.
Because being a professional cyclist isn’t just a job, it’s a lifestyle. It consumes everything. Your days, your diet, your travel, your holidays. Everything revolves around performance. You miss weddings, birthdays, and family moments. You become used to it, but it never gets easier.
Especially now, in this stage of life, things like becoming an aunt and watching friends get married have started to matter more. I didn’t want to keep missing the moments that make life outside of cycling so precious.
That doesn’t mean I’m leaving the sport behind completely. Cycling has given me everything: my husband, discipline, friendships, incredible memories, and I’ll always be part of it in some way.
But I’m also excited to rediscover the sport from a different perspective. I want to ride when I feel like it, not because it’s on the schedule. To go to events without a race number on my back. To find new challenges, new rhythms, and maybe even a new passion.
For any rider reading this who’s wrestling with the same thoughts: know that there’s no perfect moment to retire. There’s only the right one for you. Mine came quietly, not with a crash or a missed contract, but with a quiet conviction that it was time. And that, I think, is the best way it could have happened.
