Snuggled at the back, somewhere behind the grand football enclave, at the Qaddafi Stadium in Lahore is a small building. It is here that a national training camp for cyclists is being conducted. On arriving at the stadium, I look around, hoping to see some real action, cyclists in their helmets and kits, bent over their cycles doing continuous laps on a red or green track. This misconception is cleared at once by the management. A camp of 26 people in total -- men and women -- lodge in the halls of the stadium and wake up everyday at 4am to go practice near Askari 8 in Lahore, to get a clean stretch of road with minimum traffic.

They are training for the upcoming cycling championship between May 20 and 21, 2014 in Kazakhstan. Last year’s national champion in women cycling, Sabia Abbat is among them.

Sabia’s story is unique. Hailing from small town Haripur in Hazara Division, she starting training in 2011 and became a national champion only two years later, beating others with more training and, in some cases, more resources.

Her interest in cycling, as an activity, developed as an adult after watching her cousins cycle around on "small Sohrab bikes".

Taking advantage of her Mamo’s bike (maternal uncle) at her Nani’s (maternal grandmother) house in the beginning, she really did not even know how to sit on the seat. But she learnt. "I’d fall down, pick myself up and then start again," she recollects.

Attaining a degree in physical education from Hazara University, Sabia has always been a sports person. In college, she was the best volleyball player and won gold medals in an athletic event at a provincial level. When asked which sport she enjoys apart from cycling, she quickly replies, "volleyball".

"Not cricket?" I enquire.

"No," she says.

There seems to be this acute sense within the camp that cricket hogs media and authorities’ attention and sidelines other sports.

When she walked into the room, accompanied by two other female cyclists, it took me a moment to figure out which one was Sabia. She is wearing her army cycling kit, plain green in colour with the characteristic chaand sitara of the Pakistani flag printed on the front left. With a matching pea cap on her tied hair, she seems simple compared to other girls in the room, who looked more ready for the interview, with lip gloss, mascara and all. I understand the earlier warning issued by their coach Sardar Nazakat Ali, demanding they show up immediately and stop putting on makeup, was clearly not meant for Sabia.

The room we sit in is even simpler -- two single beds, a small table in between, and two cycles in one corner. One of these is the one that Sabia uses to practice. Despite her success and burgeoning career, Sabia does not own a cycle. The one she uses has been provided by the Army.

Sabia is a member of the national, provincial and the Army team. Initially called for provincial trials in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, it became difficult for her to stay back for training because, "the girls from my province could not perform well in cycling so we had to come back, even though I was selected."

Her luck changed when she was approached by the Army coach Tahir Zaman and was recruited into the team.

Thus, her professional training started.

But Sabia had to face further challenges. "We’re Pathans so some extended family members said, pathanon ki larkian bahar nahi jatin (girls from the Pathan families don’t step out)," she says smiling. Her parents and immediate family including her paternal uncles and aunts supported her. "They said girls throughout the world do it and so can you," she says, continuing that they encouraged her to take the plunge and make something more of her life.

Her smile does not waiver while she recalls the encouragement she received from her close ones. What others would present as a great tragedy, where evil society prevents girls from pursuing their dreams, for Sabia the entire incident is a matter of fact. It happened, she crossed the hurdle, no extra drama required!

Her husband, whom she married three years ago, is extremely supportive of her cycling career. Being a professional cyclist himself, he travels with her and understands the importance of her training. "He also helps me train," says Sabia.

During the initial phases of her professional training, she found it difficult to control the cycle and would often fall off the cycle.

It is when talking about the various problems they face during training that the otherwise shy, reserved and smiley Sabia becomes animated. Where she has a hard time expressing her feelings about her personal life and challenges, when it comes to the sport it is clear that this is something she feels about strongly. She laments the dearth of proper training facilities.  "A lot of times the cyclists have to stop for a car or motorbike which interferes with the momentum. This prevents the muscles from developing properly."

Travelling to other countries and interacting with players there has also made her more aware of the differences in the quality of training they receive here. Though happy with the coaches, she believes the real problem lies in the quality of facility and equipment. "We do not have so many facilities, good cycle parts and other things… it is just a guzaara (make do), others have good equipment."

Even with these complaints, Sabia does not appear to be the kind of person who is easy to dissuade. She became a national champion, competing against girls who had had more training than her. She is used to being the underdog who proves everyone wrong. She has the quality to remove herself from trivial things around her and focus on her sport, just like she did initially when she faced resistance from her relatives.

Training for an upcoming international cycling competition in Kazakhstan as part of the national team, Sabia is only hopeful and positive about their chances.