The interview

Before we talk about training and performance: Who is Kai Luge when the bike is standing in the corner?

Honestly, I’m not always sure myself. I probably spend far too much time in front of screens — either working as a sports scientist, trying to share knowledge so others can feel better on the bike, or attempting to bring some creative idea in my head to life.

And when I’m neither in front of a screen nor on the bike, I feel quite at home in my own small world — one I prefer to keep mostly to myself.

Do you remember the moment cycling stopped being just a hobby and started shaping how you think and see the world?

It really was love at first sight — as cliché as that sounds.

I was twelve when I first sat on a road bike. It belonged to my local club in Heidenau. The bike was way too big, the kit far too loose, but I was blown away by how fast you could go on those narrow tires. That speed never let go of me.

Somewhere in my early teenage years I also started noticing the beauty beyond the bike itself. Cycling became a place of calm. I trained alone a lot — and I still enjoy that very much today.

When I was sixteen, I even started a small training blog where I shared photos and thoughts from particularly beautiful rides. Maybe seven people read it back then.

To this day, it’s this unique mix that fascinates me: cycling can be brutally hard — but at the same time incredibly slowing, grounding and beautiful.

Modern cycling revolves around data, structure and watts. What are the factors you can’t measure — but that ultimately determine whether someone grows or burns out?

In my somewhat romantic view, I hope I can help people enter into a better dialogue with their bodies. And I mean an actual dialogue.

I’m convinced that our organism is the most precise training tool we have — if we learn how to interpret it correctly.

Don’t get me wrong: I love numbers and the gadgets we have today. But they’re just one part of understanding ourselves better. And this isn’t esoteric thinking. Training is allowed to hurt — and sometimes it must.

But if training increasingly becomes a burden or an obligation, and you start working against your body rather than with it, that’s when it’s heading in the wrong direction.

When athletes struggle, how often is it physical form — and how often things outside the sport?

I’d argue that in most cases it’s self-imposed pressure — and that pressure usually doesn’t originate from the sport itself.

Only going hard, fast and full gas rarely works long term. And if I’m not treating myself well outside of cycling clothes, it certainly won’t work either.

‘Community’ is a big word in cycling. Without social media and marketing — what does it actually mean to you?

Let me paint a picture.

Early summer evening. The sun hanging low over the sandstone formations of Saxon Switzerland. You’re rolling down a quiet
country road next to someone on a €12,500 aero bike, a student on a fixed gear, and ahead of you someone riding a 26-inch mountain bike from the 90s in ripped denim shorts.

And everyone has the same satisfied expression on their face.

That’s community to me. Very concretely.

What do you think is currently going wrong in the cycling ecosystem?

Even though we all practice this sport for very different reasons, I feel like the ideals people are measured against are becoming sharper and more rigid.

I’d simply wish for more tolerance within this ecosystem. And if shortcomings are identified somewhere, I’d love to see more initiative taken — instead of pointing fingers. After all, we’re ultimately moving in the same direction.

It should be completely fine if people meet to go full gas together — that doesn’t automatically mean less performance-oriented riders are being excluded. If a group is too fast for me, then maybe it’s just not my group.

At the same time, it should be equally obvious that nobody has to prove anything on a social ride.

And overall, I think the scene would benefit from taking itself a little less seriously.

How do you see your role in cycling today? Coach, mentor, guide, or something else?

I’m not sure I even have a defined role in cycling.

But if what I do reaches people - and if I can pass on even a fraction of what cycling gives me - then I’m satisfied.

Are there decisions you would make differently today?

Of course there are. Anything else would be arrogant, wouldn’t it?

But I’m far from dissatisfied with how things have unfolded. On the contrary: otherwise I wouldn’t be able to make a living from something that genuinely brings me joy.


You influence a lot of people. Do you feel responsible for how they perceive performance, sport or even themselves?

Yes, I’m aware of that.

This winter alone, more than 9,000 people downloaded one of my indoor training plans. They’re literally training with their bodies based on something I created. I find that pretty wild.

It’s a very unusual kind of trust relationship, and I’m conscious of that.