A Women’s Month Feature on Beata Wronska

This March, in celebration of Women’s Month, we highlight the athletes who redefine grit, grace, and the limits of human endurance. Few embody this spirit quite like Beata Wronska. From the coastal landscapes of Poland to the jagged peaks of the Swiss Alps, Beata’s journey is a masterclass in evolution—transitioning from an Olympic-level table tennis player to a dominant force in off-road triathlon and mountain biking.

A multiple-time National Champion and world-class podium finisher, she has proven that strength isn't just about power; it’s about the resilience to find calm within the chaos of a mass start and the passion to turn a "clunky $200 bike" into a lifelong pursuit of excellence. In this exclusive interview, Beata talks about the raw beauty of the dirt, the power of female community in sport, and why the smell of a Polish flower shop still inspires her fiercest race days.

• Who is Beata Wronska?

I’ve always been a little girl with big dreams — and in many ways, that hasn’t changed.

I grew up in Gdańsk, Poland, on the beautiful coast of the Baltic Sea, surrounded by nature and adventure. From a young age, I was drawn to challenges. I found sports at nine years old, and from the very first day I felt a drive inside me that I still can’t fully explain.

Table tennis was my first love. It carried me through national competitions, becoming a top-six player in Poland, competing for one of the top two teams in the country, and earning recognition from the cities of Gdańsk and Sopot. It led me through Olympic-profile schools and into college, where I earned a Master’s degree in Physical Education. Sport shaped my discipline, my identity, and my belief that hard work truly matters.

After moving to the United States, I continued competing and became a Top 16 Olympic-eligible table tennis player. But life has a way of opening new doors.

Off-road triathlon entered my life — and everything changed.

Endurance awakened something deeper in me. The rhythm. The suffering. The dirt. The feeling of being completely alive. And alongside that came mountain biking — at first intimidating, highly technical, completely outside my comfort zone.

It became my greatest challenge… and eventually, my greatest love.

I fell even more in love with the outdoors — not just riding through it, but living in it. I love to hike, photograph nature, swim in rivers, stand under waterfalls, and spend quiet mornings watching my garden and the forest animals around my home. The mountains, the mud, rivers, roots, and changing seasons ground me. The smell of the forest. Long, grinding climbs. Wildflowers and waterfalls. The cold air at altitude. The clarity that comes when you are fully present on a bike.

Riding became more than competition.

It became my fuel.

My passion.

My lifestyle.

Years later, it still feels like a dream I don’t want to wake up from.

• Can you tell us about the moment you first fell in love with the dirt and realized this was more than just a hobby?

I think it happened during my first XTERRA triathlon in Miami in 2008.

I showed up on a $200, 37-pound Mongoose mountain bike. It was heavy, clunky, and completely not race-ready — but I didn’t know any better. I still had salt drying on my skin from the swim, sand in my shoes, and no real understanding of what I was getting myself into.

It was the hardest and most exhilarating thing I had ever done.

I was covered in dirt and sweat. My legs were on fire. I felt like I might pass out at any moment. But I also knew something very clearly: I was not going to stop.

When I crossed that finish line — exhausted and wrecked — I realized this wasn’t just another sport. It was a feeling. A challenge that asked everything from me and gave something back that I couldn’t even describe.

It was difficult.

It was raw.

It was deeply rewarding.

And I wanted more.

I wanted to be strong enough to handle it. Fit enough to thrive in it. Brave enough to keep lining up.

A few months later, I did my first mountain bike race — and that sealed it. I ended up competing in both sports for nearly ten years. I realized there would always be one more race out there. One more adventure. One more lesson waiting somewhere on the horizon. That possibility pulled me in completely.

And I realized something else: I genuinely love dirt. The tougher the day gets, the more I seem to thrive. The dirtier I get, the bigger my smile becomes. I love finishing a race covered in dust and sweat, looking like I just climbed out of the wild forest.

Maybe I even like it a little too much.

I didn’t know then how far this path would take me. I was simply following curiosity and passion — asking myself, “What’s next? What else can I do? How can I test myself?”

One race led to another.

And before I knew it, I was on a journey that still hasn’t stopped.

 

• As a prominent woman in a demanding sport, what does “Women’s Month” mean to you personally within the context of the cycling community?

Where I grew up in Poland, March 8th was always a big day. Women’s Day wasn’t subtle. Flower shops were overflowing with fresh tulips and roses, colors everywhere, and long lines of men waiting patiently to buy bouquets for the women in their lives. I can still remember the smell of those little shops and the excitement in the air. It was a visible expression of appreciation and respect.

As I grew older and stepped into endurance sports, the meaning of that day shifted for me.

In cycling — especially in mountain biking and XTERRA — respect isn’t given through flowers. It’s earned through effort. Through showing up. Through pushing through hard races, mechanicals, doubt, injuries, and still lining up again.

Women’s Month in our community is not about being treated gently. It’s about being seen as strong, capable, and equal contributors to the sport.

For me, it represents progress.

I have seen women go from being a small category on the side of the start line to being leaders, champions, teammates, mothers who train between school drop-offs, and athletes who redefine what is possible at every age.

Women’s Month is a reminder that we belong here — not as an exception, not as a novelty, but as a powerful and permanent part of the cycling world.

And personally, it reminds me that strength and femininity are not opposites. You can be fierce on the start line and still remember the smell of flowers from a tiny shop in Poland.

That contrast is beautiful to me.

 

• You recently achieved a dream by racing the Swiss Epic, finishing 2nd in Master Women. What was the most empowering moment of that journey through the Alps?

The most empowering part was realizing that a dream we once casually spoke out loud had actually come true.

Ten years earlier, my teammate and best friend had said, “One day we should race Swiss Epic together.” It felt distant at the time — almost unrealistic. But we carried it quietly in the back of our minds and kept doing the work. Kept training. Kept racing. Kept loving the process.

I remember sitting in the iconic red Swiss train as we traveled deeper into the Alps, wanting to pinch myself. This was the moment I realized it wasn’t a dream anymore — it was actually happening. The mountains rose straight out of the lakes, piercing the clouds, impossibly steep and dramatic. I looked out the window and thought, How are we going to ride this?

Jen had arrived earlier with her kids, and they were sending us photos of those towering peaks, full of excitement. My husband and I were still on our way, watching the same mountains grow larger outside our window. It was incredible to share that anticipation not just as teammates, but as families. The dream wasn’t only ours anymore — it belonged to everyone who had supported us.

And then we raced it.

Most days we climbed between 7,000 and 8,000 feet. The terrain was steep, technical, raw. Scarletta Pass will always stay with me — that grueling climb where riders looked like tiny ants zig-zagging up the mountain in perfect lines. The air was thin. Legs were burning. The backdrop looked completely surreal.

When we reached the top and heard the alphorns echoing across the peaks, it felt almost sacred. We stopped for a moment just to absorb it all. The views were breathtaking and wild. Then came the descent: steep, super chunky, rocky, relentless. I can still feel my hands shaking from gripping so hard.

There were moments during those climbs when our lungs were screaming and we would glance at each other and smile. That quiet look that says, “This hurts like hell… but it looks like heaven… and we’re actually doing it.”

We rode well. We stayed steady. We passed some pro women’s teams. We handled mechanicals. We grew stronger each day.

And when we stood on that podium — second place in Master Women among incredibly strong teams — it felt magical. Not just because we finished. Not just because we endured. But because we performed. We earned our place there.

Even now, we still talk about it. Jen says she will never take her stage profile stickers off her bike. We talk about how amazing it was to accomplish it all together — and about the next adventure. The next mountain range. The next start line. The kids — and even their friends — are already dreaming about racing Swiss Epic one day.

That’s when you realize a dream doesn’t just come true.

It multiplies.

• What is the biggest challenge you’ve faced as a female athlete in the MTB and XTERRA world, and how did you overcome it?

From a young age, I was often the only girl in male-dominated environments. In table tennis, I was the first girl in a large professional club filled mostly with male players. My coach eventually created a girls’ team around me, and we became one of the top two teams in the country. Being surrounded by male competitors never made me feel out of place — if anything, it made me stronger. I always felt like I belonged.

That carried into off-road triathlon and mountain biking, where the start lines are often dominated by men. I was used to that dynamic.

But XTERRA brought a different kind of challenge.

The most stressful part for me was always the open water swim — especially the mass starts.

At XTERRA World Championships in Maui, there were around 800 of us in the water at once. Deep ocean, rough conditions, bodies everywhere. Arms pulling, legs kicking, people swimming over you. I’ve always had anxiety in deep water, so those first minutes were incredibly intense for me.

The challenge wasn’t just physical — it was mental.

I had to learn how to manage the wave of anxiety when it came. Instead of fighting it, I shifted my focus. I began counting strokes:
1, 2, 3, 4…
1, 2, 3, 4…

That simple rhythm grounded me. It brought my attention back to something controllable — my breathing and cadence — instead of the chaos around me. Over time, I learned that the fear would pass if I didn’t feed it.

I carried that same lesson into mountain biking.

Mass starts in endurance events can be just as chaotic. Strong riders surge immediately, and those first few minutes are often where mistakes happen.

What I’ve learned is positioning and patience.

I place myself near the front, but in a spot that feels safe and controlled. I don’t panic if I’m not in the perfect position immediately. In long endurance races, there is time. Within minutes — especially on the first climb — the chaos settles. The field stretches. The real racing begins.

The biggest challenge wasn’t the competition — it was learning to stay calm inside the chaos.

Once I mastered that, everything changed.

• In grueling multi-day events, equipment failure isn't an option. How has your relationship with Squirt Cycling Products helped you maintain focus on the race rather than on your gear?

Stage racing is unpredictable by nature. In a single week you can ride through deep mud, rocky alpine terrain, grassy fields, loose gravel, long descents, and relentless climbs. Your equipment is constantly tested.

In those environments, mental energy is precious. You can’t afford to waste it worrying about whether your drivetrain will hold up or whether a small puncture might end your day.

I’ve been using Squirt chain lube for years, and I trust it completely. Through mud, dust, and long days in the saddle, my drivetrain stays smooth and efficient. I don’t have to second-guess it — and that confidence matters in a race where focus is everything.

The same goes for Squirt tire sealant. Knowing that a small puncture will likely seal instantly allows me to keep riding without panic. In stage racing, that peace of mind is huge.

And then there’s Barrier Balm — something people don’t talk about enough. When you’re riding day after day over rough terrain, small irritations can quickly turn into major problems. Protecting your skin properly means you can keep pushing without distraction.

For me, Squirt products remove unnecessary stress from the equation. They allow me to focus on pacing, strategy, and the experience itself — not on preventable mechanical issues.

In multi-day racing, that reliability is invaluable.

• What is one piece of advice you would give to a young woman who is just starting her journey in off-road racing and feels intimidated by the “technical” side of the sport?

Don’t overthink it and don’t rush the process.

Take it one ride, one trail, one section at a time.

you look at a 100-mile race and think about how long you’ll be out there, how many things could go wrong, or how technical certain sections might be, it can feel overwhelming. But endurance — and technical confidence — are built in small pieces.

Focus on the next singletrack.

Ride it as well as you can.

Clear it.

Move on to the next.

Small, consistent steps matter more than big ambitions in the beginning. Big races and big dreams will come — and by the time they do, you’ll be ready because you built yourself gradually.

Technical skills aren’t something you’re born with. They come from repetition, patience, and time in the saddle. The longer you ride, the more you understand yourself — your reactions, your fears, and your strengths.

And you might be surprised how much you can endure when you truly put yourself out there.

Most importantly, passion and love must lead the way. That’s what keeps you committed when things get hard. If you genuinely enjoy what you’re doing, the discipline follows naturally.

So go ride.

Enjoy the process.

Let everything else grow from there.

• You’ve conquered national titles and world championship podiums. What is the next big “dream race” or personal goal on your horizon for 2026?

I have a few meaningful goals ahead.

The biggest one is racing the Marathon Masters World Championships in Italy. Endurance racing is where I feel most at home — long efforts, strategy, patience, and the kind of suffering that unfolds over hours. The last time I raced Marathon Worlds, I earned a bronze medal. I’m still chasing that rainbow jersey.

That dream is very much alive.

Another important goal is returning to defend my Marathon National Championship title. Last year I earned my fifth national title and the number one plate, and I believe when you earn something like that, you show up ready to defend it.

Beyond championships, I’m deeply inspired by stage racing around the world. Events within the Epic Series have become some of the most transformative experiences of my career. My next dream race from the Epic Series is 4Islands Croatia — a race that blends endurance, technical terrain, and pure adventure. It looks like a spectacular way to explore the islands on a bike. In my mind, it feels almost magical, and I would truly love to experience it.

Those multi-day events challenge not just your fitness, but your resilience, teamwork, and ability to adapt day after day.

For me, the future is about continuing to chase big goals with focus and gratitude — and seeing how far I can still push myself.

• We know many epic rides or days start with a caffeine kick — how do you take your coffee (or are you a tea person)?

I’m definitely a tea person.

Back in Poland, my dad would make tea constantly — one cup after another — and I guess that ritual stayed with me. Nothing has really changed. I love starting my mornings quietly with green tea before training or writing. It helps me settle into the day and create a calm rhythm before the effort begins.

Throughout the day, I’ll have a few more cups, especially when I’m writing. There’s something grounding about sipping tea while focusing.

That said, I do enjoy coffee before a ride. It gives me that extra spark of energy that feels very welcome when it’s time to push hard on the bike.

• After a big training ride, what is your go-to recovery meal or ritual to celebrate a ride well done?

After a long ride, I keep it simple — and if I’m being honest, I’m usually so hungry that I head straight to the kitchen and start putting something together with whatever is available. After big endurance days, I’ll eat almost anything I can get my hands on quickly.

That said, I always try to make it balanced — solid protein and carbs, usually something warm and homemade. I almost always crave vegetables after big efforts, so even if I’m throwing it together fast, I aim for a colorful, nourishing plate that helps me feel grounded again.

If I’m dreaming, though, it would probably be a big Chipotle bowl — rice, beans, veggies, the works. That’s exactly what I crave after long training days.

But Brevard doesn’t even have a Chipotle — and I guess that’s the price (and the privilege) of living in the mountains.

So instead, I make my own version at home. And honestly, that slower, quieter routine fits my lifestyle better anyway.

More than the food, I value the ritual of slowing down.

In the summertime, a sunset walk or a swim in the pool feels amazing. Sometimes I’ll stretch on the deck, sit quietly, and just watch the garden and the forest animals moving through the trees.

After hours of intensity, that stillness feels sacred.

Those peaceful moments after hard work are grounding. They help me reset, reflect on the ride, and prepare for the next challenge.