There’s one thing that has been both a help and a hindrance to me during my career: my Swiss mentality. Us Swiss are modest, reserved, we don’t discuss our problems, and neither do we want to be in the spotlight – so when we are we bat it away. When I signed my first good contract, my mum pleaded with me not to buy an expensive car. “What would people think?” she said. We worry about others a lot, and, though Fabian Cancellara and Roger Federer were exceptions, we’d never say we are going to be the best in the world. If we did we’d be called cocky and arrogant. “How dare you,” people would say. Instead, we downgrade ourselves in sport and I think that handicaps us.
This mindset definitely hinders us in road racing because to win you’ve got to play the role of an arsehole: you need to flick other people, you’ve got to be sneaky and play dead sometimes, and have really big self-confidence. But that’s not how we’re raised – we’re taught to be nice to everyone, to say please and thank you, to never go behind anyone’s back, and to stay true to the rules and regulations. I’d like to not pull if the other guys won’t, be more prepared to go down together, but that’s harder for me with my Swiss mentality. I can do the physical training and the suffering side of it all quite easily, but the mind games and deploying smarter tactics is something I have to work hard at – it’s not easy. If I was more of an arsehole, I think I would have won more races. But I do also think that this mentality of striving for perfection, being a hard worker and calculating power and figures is one of the main reasons why my forte is time trialling and why Switzerland has had so many good time triallists.
I have to say: I’m really proud of being Swiss and I honestly wouldn’t want to live or have been brought up anywhere else. I’m fluent in German, French, English and can communicate in Italian and Spanish. I did my five months of mandatory military service in the sports division aged 19, waking up at 5.30am and carrying weapons and practising shooting. It was a place where everyone was equal, regardless of background – same clothes, boots, beds, and I mixed with people I wouldn't otherwise have done. It was a really, really cool time with lots of benefits and I’m still in contact with some of the guys.
At that age I was riding for BMC Development Team, but I was never really meant to be a cyclist. I was born into a typical middle class Swiss family, but my parents and brother weren’t into sport. Though my Mum and Dad let me do whatever sport I fancied and supported me – that included alpine skiing, ice hockey, tennis, volleyball, you name it – the mentality Swiss people have is that school is more important; education is number one. So when I finished school and became a full-time bike rider as a first year U23, no one understood me. “So what are you studying?” they’d ask. When I said I was focusing on my sport, they said: “Yes, yes, that’s great, but what are you working as? How are you living?” Even when I turned pro with BMC, people still asked what work I had on the side. I said I was getting paid pretty well, but they didn’t believe me. It was unbelievable for almost everyone that all I did was cycling because prioritising work and education is the Swiss way.
If I hadn’t become a cyclist, I’d have gone down the biology or doctor's path. The whole body fascinates me and I view myself as my own trial. I’m not sure of my body’s maximum capabilities, and it’s incredible when you can optimise how much your body is doing. In time trials especially you need to reach your limits, and to push as far as you can to be able to corner perfectly. Over time, you get such a good perception of your body. It’s also true that cyclists are the best kind of lab rats as you almost can’t do too much - you can’t get a fatigue fracture from cycling. If your position is fine, you can train 50,000km a year no problem, yet it would be impossible for one of the world’s top-10 marathon runners to run 42km every day of the year. We’re in such a unique sport.
Cycling is also very scientific these days and we work with experts in so many different fields: engineers, wind tunnel specialists, nutritionists, material consultants, medics. The list goes on. You don’t get a degree when you retire from cycling, but for 15 years you’ve been as good as an expert in so many subjects. It’s osteopathy that really fascinates me, though, and I partly attribute that to breaking vertebrae, collarbones, hands and my jaw in the early years of my career. I had to do so much rehab that I learned how everything was connected together, and I’ve got an understanding and fascination with the human body that I think could potentially help other patients. Going to uni and becoming an osteopath after my career is something I can imagine myself doing.
But for the time being I’m more motivated than ever to be the best athlete I can be. I’m proud of my palmarès so far but the two big things missing are the rainbow bands and an Olympic medal. Maybe they’ll come this summer? Whatever happens, I know at home I’ll have some great Swiss cheese and chocolate waiting for me. And bread – my lifelong afternoon snack is bread and chocolate. Those are things I couldn't live without.
- Stefan
You can read more from the In My Words series here.
