Maurizio and Giancarlo had been happy with my first visit to Acca Due O and offered me a stagiaire place with the team. About a week after my last A-level exam, the signs were that I was now recovering and I needed some good workouts, but not too many. I packed my road and mountain bike, my team jersey and shorts that I’d kept safely since February, and travelled to Treviso. Mum and Dad were at work, so I took all my bikes and kit on my own. As I settled into my seat on the airplane, I thought this was it. I had spent my last day in school and now I was off to the centre of the professional cycling world. I was Junior World champion and was about to go and stay with the world’s No.1 team. I was only 18 and this was going to be the start of a terrific adventure.
It had been warm in the UK when I left. When I walked out of the air-conditioned luxury of Venice’s newly opened Marco Polo airport, the heat of the Italian summer hit me. I arrived on a Friday and was informed that we would be leaving at 7am the next morning for a race. I was going to ride in their team! Brilliant.
Now that I was in the mad and occasionally bad world of professional racing, I was fully aware that I might encounter a doping culture. Mum, Dad and I had a conversation about drugs towards the end of 2000. It was short but stays in my memory. I promised them that I would not do drugs in any way; and I have always kept that promise.
Dad made it his business to be aware of the possible pitfalls of the sporting arena his daughter was now entering. BBC radio’s Inside Edge programme broadcast a report on the Tour de France and the use of Performance Enhancing Drugs (PEDs). At one stage, the reporter claimed the sport was doing everything it could, they were trying hard but no test was yet developed, and that after the Festina 1998 Tour scandal all the riders were now clean. Dad was livid and rang up the BBC and spoke to them about the shallowness of the report.
Drugs had moved on from stimulants and muscle enhancements, and endurance athletes were now using the drug erythropoietin (EPO) which artificially increased the number of red cells in the blood. Dad had researched a Canadian laboratory that was developing a test for EPO and forwarded the details to the BBC, including the name of the professor leading the project. The BBC followed up and did another radio interview, this time with Hein Verbruggen, president of the UCI. For this programme, they now had some decent background facts to counter the platitude the doper is so fond of, that ‘we’re doing as much as we can, move along, nothing to see here.’ The journalists did a great job as they really gave Verbruggen a tough time, asking him why the UCI was not introducing EPO testing. ‘Don’t tell us the excuses about not having a test,’ they put to him, confident in their knowledge after having spoken with the Canadian professor. Hein was taken aback by the journalists’ understanding of the subject.
We were realists about what I might find in Italy. I understood that the introduction to the drugs culture in cycling was probably not going to be obvious but more by gradual exposure, and the first ‘little’ steps would be presented as not really doing anything bad. And then we came back to ‘IF’. Mum and Dad could not have made it clearer: doing my best was all that mattered. If my best got me 24th place, that was exactly as good as third or first. If I got beaten and beaten by cheats, then as long as I’d done my best, walking away with my integrity was going to be a lot better for my life than living it out as a perpetual lie. Imagine shaking the hands of people that came up to you, when you were old, and them telling you what a great winner you were, when you knew inside you were a rotten fraud. Fortunately, I was in a team that did not urge its riders to take that path. While I was at school attaining my qualifications, this adventure into cycling and becoming a professional cyclist was there alongside a very distinct possibility that it might well be a short-lived enterprise. That I might just end up applying for university one year later than my peers was a very realistic probability.
At the Plouay worlds, we had watched the women’s senior road race together. Over the winter, Dad and I spoke about it many times. In a 130km nine-lap race, the Belorussian winner Zinaida Stahurskaya had broken away from the field in lap 5 and ridden alone to the finish, holding off a peloton that was really quite active. Dad made sure the realities of that unbelievable performance were not lost on me before I went to Sochi to train with Natalia and her Russian team-mates. What I had found there was fine, with no mention ever being made of PEDs. Of course, my command of the language was close to zero and we were only youngsters after all, but at their ‘warm weather’ camp it looked like everyone there had enough challenges riding in the snow and ice, self-catering, daily bike maintenance sessions and keeping warm.
In Italy, my first race was the Carnevale di Cento, a UCI Category 2 race. I was near the front at the start line. Then I saw World champion Zinaida Stahurskaya, in her rainbow jersey, move onto the front row. She was tall and imposing, certainly, but her physique was quite startling. She had so very little body fat, it was definitely not a natural look. I remembered what Dad had told me.
My biggest worry in this first race was the heat, and during the morning I had learnt the Italian words for ‘bottle’, ‘drink’, ‘water’ and ‘very hot’ off by heart. The peloton was huge, well over 130 starters, and among the buzz of conversation it sounded like the peloton spoke either Italian or Russian. The starter waved the flag and we were off. But, just 10km into the 110km race, my chain snapped. My race was over. I was so frustrated at such an anti-climax after everything.
Back in Treviso I settled in quickly, staying in a team house with Valeria Pintos from Argentina, who was also having a trial with the team. We became good friends and our Italian language skills picked up no-end. Valeria spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish, so we both tried out our new words on each other. We normally trained as a pair, but on some days we met the other riders on the team and sometimes Maurizio followed us with the team car to see how we were getting on.
One evening, Maurizio organised a 14km time-trial test for me along the Montello Road, while he drove the team car behind, leaning out of the car window, shouting, sounding the car horn and cheering me on. I loved it! I also asked if Maurizio could find someone to take me mountain biking, and I did a couple of off-road rides each week so I could get ready for the Mountain Bike World Championships. There were not many road races on at the time, so my only other race was a semi-classic, the Giro del Veneto Femminile. On a hilly course, I finished in the top 20 but I had been on my limit for the last 20km, hanging on to the wheels and barely aware of what was happening tactically in the race. There was clearly a long way to go.
Maurizio ran his business and his team in the same way, full of energy and emotion. His office was adorned with huge photos of his riders winning World Championships and the Tour de France. Signed jerseys were everywhere and there was even a giant photo of Mussolini behind his desk. He was interested to hear my opinion about the Lisbon course for the World Championship and assured me that I would win it. Next year, I would join the team and we would set a programme that would not be too demanding yet give me the opportunity to develop and test myself against the best riders. Maurizio oozed confidence and charm.
I came back to the UK for the event that brings down the curtain on school life: A-level students’ results day. Before this, I spent some time with my school friends; we even went on a road trip to Devon for Menna Hamel’s 18th birthday. On the day of the results, we set off really early in the morning from Devon and drove to Brynteg to find out how we had got on. Menna had stayed on with her family, so one of us had to open her envelope and phone her with the results. The support and advice of a handful of close friends – Helen, Menna, Hayley, Kate, Claire and Tara – has been something I have always cherished over the years and it is wonderful to see them and touch base with normality, after long periods of time away in the circus that is racing. That evening, I went out to dinner with my grandfather George to celebrate my extra two ‘A’s. He was at home, looking after our pets while Mum and Dad were on holiday cycling in the Alps.
Next, it was the British Women’s Road Race Championship in Oakley, Buckinghamshire. After the race the previous year, although too late to appeal, one gentleman wrote to tell us that the conduct of the National Championships was not the subject of the BCF rules but rather UCI ones. Just for the record, the rules stated:
1.2.027 National Championships: National Championships shall be run under UCI regulations.
Conduct of participants in cycling races 1.2.079 to 1.2.083:
1.2.081: Riders shall sportingly defend their own chances. Any collusion or behaviour likely to falsify or go against the interests of the competition shall be forbidden.
1.2.080: All licence holders shall, in whatever capacity, participate in cycling races in a sporting and fair manner. They shall look to contributing fairly to the sporting success of the race.
These were not regulations relating to normal races but specifically referred to National Championships, and we pointed them out to Peter King at BC, well in advance of the 2001 event, and suggesting that the organiser and commissaire also be made aware so we could have a fair race in 2001. Peter politely declined to do this and assured us that the race would be ridden according to the rules. Dad then contacted the organiser directly and identified our concerns and asked if the organiser could communicate with the commissaire. The organiser was most helpful and suggested we contact the commissaire direct. This we did and the commissaire confirmed our understanding of the UCI regulations.
Before the race, after we had signed on, the commissaire held a riders’ briefing and at that meeting she read out the rules and her expectation of them. There was no team competition in this event and riders ‘defending their own chances’ and not ‘colluding’ both related to a personal level. The commissaire’s absolute professionalism only contrasted with the way the race had been conducted the year before.
I was especially excited as I would be able to ride wearing the very special rainbow colours of the World champion. Those awarded for time-trials, track events, mountain biking or any other discipline feature a motif within them to designate that fact. In effect, the track sprint is a discipline taken from the finale of a road race; the pursuit, a formation of the chase of a break. It is a bit like having a championship for place-kicking in rugby. Place-kicking is a very important feature of the game but it is only a part of it. The road race jersey is pure with no logo, since to win the road race you need to combine the ability to be good in all aspects of cycling, and therefore it is recognised as the ultimate challenge in the sport.
It would also be my first meeting with the new British women’s road coach, Canadian Peg Hill, who had raced internationally through the ’90s and was highly knowledgeable in respect of road racing and what standards elite women can achieve. It was very heartening that the WCPP were taking on board so many of the recommendations from our document and putting excellent people in place to work with the women’s squad. Certainly all contacts relating to British Cycling were entirely different from how they had been 12 months before.
In the race, the WCPP riders were rather quiet. There were various attacks and towards the end we became a group of four: three WCPP girls in their new black outfits and me in my new white World champion skin suit. I have some lovely photos of that contrast. I attacked and only Ceris could stay with me. We worked together and I won the sprint. Regretfully this would be the last time I would see Ceris. I never felt any anger towards her over the way the previous year’s event was run. Undoubtedly, the girls were riding to the instructions of the coaches, who were so unsuited to their roles. They were the problem; massive egos without the ability to match and supported by a Team Agreement that gave them absolute power. The girls should have had the sense to stand up to them, but perhaps they just weren’t as ‘difficult’ as me to work with.
Here is what Peg had to say about my win:
Before the 2001 National Road Championships, the Women’s Endurance Squad Manager (Ken Matheson) filled me in on all the ‘trouble’ Nicole Cooke and her family caused the WCPP. Nicole wanted to compete with the elite women while still a junior. I knew this had been done elsewhere (in the US) and couldn’t understand why they resisted. She was already a World champion. What was she going to do, waltz around the other juniors? If a young ambitious rider wanted to upgrade, why wouldn’t she be encouraged? I was being prepared to witness a combative prima donna. I was also informed that it would be considered an ‘embarrassment’ to the programme should she win, as she was not a product of the system. He told me it had been practically mandated that the Squad beat Nicole at the previous Nationals. At the National Championships each athlete races for themselves, not the National Team. Therefore as National Coach my role was one of an observer. I followed in the lead commissaire’s car. I watched as Nicole broke away with Ceris Gilfillan. It was no surprise when Nicole sprinted to the win. What was a surprise was how happy Nicole was. Her father and brother surrounded and congratulated her at the finish. She did not look like some bratty, spoiled kid to me. She was genuinely pleased.
The result in the race was not a surprise, more of a confirmation. My heart-rate traces showed that while I was not fully recovered and back to my best form, I was now making good progress. What I was most happy about was the new WCPP attitude and the meeting going so well with Peg. It looked like the treble of World Championships was on, so we went home happy. I showed Mum my medal. Craig had ‘blown up’ in the last stages of his race after being involved in a big crash and lone chase earlier on. Mum asked the usual questions and Dad gave the usual reply. Craig got an extra big hug and I put the medal in the box under the bed.
Things continued to get better in terms of relationships with British Cycling. Peg Hill together with Shane Sutton arranged that I would ride with the British team at the Grand Prix du Quebec. The previous year, our happy band had given an excellent account of ourselves, while most of the British team spent the time trying to read the lettering on the back of my saddle. Now we were to be together, which was not a problem for me, as I felt no animosity towards any of the riders. It was a little odd that Peg Hill did not accompany us. The race began with a disaster for me. A break had gone up the road and the bunch was chasing hard when a couple of riders both went for the same gap and suddenly about ten of us were sliding along the tarmac. It took some time for us to become untangled, my shoe had even come off in the pile of bodies and bikes, and I was one of the last to get going. I chased with Rachel Heal working hard alongside me, but we couldn’t catch the speeding bunch and we finished ten minutes down.
I looked a bit like an Egyptian mummy with my bandages on my arms and knees at the start line of the 123km Stage 2, but I was determined to race hard and got in a break of five. The strongest rider was Saturn sprinter Ina Teutenberg, a former Junior World champion with a string of wins and World Cup podiums. At the finish, I positioned myself on her wheel for the sprint, but when she kicked I couldn’t match her and had to settle for second place. Saturn ran both a men’s and women’s squad and had developed under René Wenzel, who earlier had worked with Angus Fraser, into a team that achieved a significant number of victories.
Saturn was the strongest team in the race and indeed would finish the season as the world’s No.1 ranked team. Their main riders for this very mountainous Stage 3 were Commonwealth Games champion Lyne Bessette, and South African Anke Erlank, who had been present in the breakaway that stayed away on Stage 1 and was Saturn’s best-placed rider for GC. The other rider to watch would be the Canadian ‘phenomenon’ Genevieve Jeanson of RONA.
Genevieve is two years older than me and had achieved the Junior World Time-Trial and Road Race double in 1999. She had blasted into the senior ranks, winning her first stage race, the six-day, nine-stage Tour de Snowy in Australia in early 2000, and backed that up by winning the Flèche Wallonne World Cup a few weeks later. Already in 2001 she had won the Redlands Classic tour in March by nine minutes, then the Tour of Gila, beating Saturn’s best two climbers by a massive 15 and 24 minutes respectively. At the Montreal World Cup in May, Genevieve had attacked on the third of 12 laps, and ridden alone to win by seven and a half minutes. These were unbelievable performances, by any measure. Genevieve attacked on the first ascent of Jay Peak and I went into serious limpet mode, clinging to her back wheel while others were dropped. Eventually, I could do no more and at least had the honour, as reported, of ‘Cooke being last to give up’. I formed part of a group of four riders chasing Genevieve with Saturn duo Lyne Bessette and Anke Erlank, and Finn Pia Sundstedt who had recently left the GAS Sport Team in Italy and was now racing for American team Intersports.
All four of us worked together and eventually caught Genevieve – after a 60km chase! There were more attacks over the Echo Mountain peaks but as we approached the finish the five of us were all together. I remembered the fast downhill finish from last year and got on Lyne’s wheel. I gave it everything in the sprint but could not pass Lyne and was actually beaten by Genevieve who finished in second place. I knew that of the five, I was the only rider to have been in the 80km break the previous day while they would have been taking it easy in the bunch. But I was a bit surprised to be beaten in a sprint by Genevieve, who had also made a big break of her own today.
The next day, we had the time-trial stage and while I was warming up, I could see a lot of a fuss over at the RONA team parked alongside us. There was a big crowd around Genevieve. I had to take my start and thought nothing more of it. After blasting around the time-trial course, I was told Genevieve had developed a knee strain and pulled out. It seemed an unusual turn of events. After my two days in breakaways, I had reclaimed some of my time deficit and moved up the GC into the top ten. With Genevieve’s withdrawal, I was now the leading U23 rider and King of the Mountains.
That evening I was back in attacking mode and got in a breakaway in the criterium with three riders including Saturn’s Petra Rossner, resplendent in her German national champion’s jersey and widely accepted as the No.1 sprinter in the world with five World Cup victories to her name. Coming down the finishing straight, I gave it everything and at least Petra had to keep going all the way to the line to claim her victory. Second behind the best sprinter in the business was very pleasing, along with my third podium in three days.
On the final stage, Rachel Heal rode really well to get in a breakaway with Amber Neben of Autotrader and Melissa Holt of RONA. Melissa was dropped and although Rachel could not stay with Amber, she showed that she had great potential as she finished in second place behind Amber. I ran out of energy, fading on the climb to the finish. Overall I was seventh, best U23 and King of the Mountains – more T-shirts to take home – and was really pleased that the British team had finished the stage race so strongly. It looked like the WCPP changes and Peg’s good work were now starting to shine through. With the riders in Canada, plus Ceris who did not race here, it was exciting to think that we could be one of the strongest teams at the Athens Olympics in three years’ time. The atmosphere in the team was good, even if no one spoke about the recent past.
I expect those of you familiar with the current men’s road racing scene are becoming a little confused as I talk about national teams and commercial teams in the same breath. Women’s cycling does not have the same depth of sponsors as the men’s. Therefore major races are open both to commercial trade teams – Saturn, RONA, Acca Due O, etc – as well as national teams. The Australians in particular used the national format probably because being based in the southern hemisphere they needed to come as a national team to ride the northern hemisphere season.
After the race, I stayed with some family friends near Montreal to recharge the batteries for a couple of days. Then it was off to Colorado to join the British mountain bike team to acclimatise to the high altitude of Vail at 2,484m, in preparation for the Mountain Bike World Championships. My Brian Rourke mountain bike was waiting for me when I arrived, and over the next two and a half weeks Gary Foord helped me sharpen up my technical skills.
Vail is a ski resort in winter and so we were accommodated in chalets. One morning, a member of staff came in and told us to turn on the TV. What we saw was horrifying. We watched live as the second plane went into the South Tower during the New York terrorist attacks of 11 September. The whole community in Vail was deeply shocked and I really felt for the riders and staff on the American team. There was much debate in the aftermath about whether to carry on with the championships. Immediately, the junior programme was stopped for a memorial service which I made sure I attended.
There was talk of cancelling the championships but eventually all the cross-country races were moved to the Sunday. My race began at 07.35am, five minutes after the junior men. Then it would be U23 men at 10.00, senior women 13.00 and finally senior men starting at 16.00. Gary and I had talked through the race strategy. Rather than going out hard in the first lap and building up a lead, I chose a race plan of holding back on the first lap, assessing my rivals’ strengths and weaknesses and then choosing my tactics for the last lap to try to attack at the best moment. Technically, I had advanced this year. I felt comfortable that none of my rivals would be able to spring any surprises on me over any section that was difficult to ride, and my form was good.
Soon there were just two of us in the lead, me and Maja Wloszczowska of Poland, who had finished second ahead of me the year before, after my long chain came off. The press reported that they were surprised that both Maja and I decided to ‘ride the heart-stopping Jetta Jump drop-off down a huge rock’. Cyclingnews.com showed a picture of the elite men at this feature, almost all of whom elected not to ride this particular section. Maja and I were both very motivated and both coveted that top step on the podium.
As we started the second lap, there was a section where the trail changed from gravel to a steep grass climb, before narrowing into a single track. It was important to lead into this section. I had done the tricky bit and was leading as we reached the bottom of the climb, and then I fell on the corner. The bike slid out from beneath me and I went sprawling as Maja swept past me up the climb toward the forest trail. I knew that if she got to the trail before me then the race was almost certainly over, because she would be able to keep the pace high and I would struggle to recover and get back on terms with her. If I could pass her before the single track, I could go slowly there and she would not be able to get past me. I could recover ready for the finish. I leapt back on and sprinted as hard as I could up the grassy climb. In the space of 200m I had gone from lying on the ground to back into the lead just before we disappeared into the trail. My lungs were bursting and my legs were badly cut, but it didn’t matter now that I had the lead. I could afford to take a breather as there was no way for Maja to pass me.
Once I had regained my composure, I prepared for the rest of the lap. Maja put in a big attack, which I matched, then another on the last climb. I just managed to claw my way back to her over the top, but I was at the edge of my technical ability as we sped down a treacherous descent, before approaching the finish. Then it would be down to a sprint. Maja would be giving everything not to get another silver medal. This was no formality. I chose my moment and kicked past her. I drove for the finish line, not looking round. I won, elated and exhausted and barely able to raise one arm. All I could do was gasp for air as officials tried to help me to some nearby chairs, and then the emotions came out, tears of joy and relief that I had achieved what I set out to do. Maja went on to have an illustrious career in mountain biking, winning the Senior World Mountain Bike Championships and many silver and bronze medals at this level. She also came second in the mountain bike race at Beijing.
My original travel schedule was based around a race that should have taken place two days earlier. I now needed to get back to Europe to complete my preparations for Lisbon. Air transport across and out of the USA had been thrown into chaos after 9/11 and was certainly a long way from normal right now. Security at the airports was immense. I didn’t have time to celebrate, rushing back to the accommodation so I could shower, change and grab my bags. On the way out Caroline Alexander, who was due to race later in the day, stopped me. She and other team members had watched my race from their balcony, which overlooked the spot where I had crashed; they couldn’t believe my response and the effort I made to make sure I got back in front before that single track. I certainly was not gracious and should have shown a better attitude. With greater maturity, I could have chosen the moment to build some bridges with the riders. Perhaps memories of a year ago were still too vivid and in the absence of any apology, I wasn’t going out of my way to ingratiate myself with anyone in the squad. I was on a mission; impervious to discomfort and absolutely focused on one thing – winning – and that should be a normal attitude for anyone wanting to win a race, right? I went back to the course to be presented with the gold medal and rainbow jersey with a mountain on it and then it was a mad dash for the airport and a series of unconfirmed and constantly changing connections that I hoped might get me to Milan in time for the race in Tuscany on the Tuesday night.
A beaming Maurizio was waiting at the airport to greet me off my early-morning flight. It was almost embarrassing as he started shouting out ‘Campionessa del Mondo!’ as I came out of arrivals, but it made me laugh. Finally, I could relax. We drove to the race and found the hotel; it was lunch time when I walked in and all the riders and staff were together in the restaurant. They started clapping. A couple of months before, I was at school. Now, still a junior, I was walking into a restaurant with stars of the international road scene all clapping me. I’ll never forget that moment.
Our race was the hotly contested Giro della Toscana. I got straight into the racing that night with the prologue and during the race had two top ten places. Maurizio was relaxed enough to insist that I did not race the final day because it was raining, and there was no sense in catching a cold or risking a crash with the World Road Championships in a few weeks. He wanted to ensure that I was in the best condition to defend my junior title. I had done enough to book a place on the team for the next season, he told me before I left. All that was needed was to negotiate a salary, and that could wait until after the World Championships.
The Lisbon course was great with several places to make it hard and force a selection. The lap had a 2km climb, a steep descent, then a 3km climb, before a long downhill stretch of 4km, finishing in a flat section to the line. With the benefit of my recce a few months before, I had designed a route around Cowbridge near my home, which resembled the Lisbon course. I had trained on this course during the year, particularly practising the downhill section to the finish, where I had to make sure I could drive the restricted junior gear, pedalling really quickly and then tucking into an aerodynamic position when the cadence became impossible, just as I had done with Dad on the tandem so many years before. In the last few weeks before departing, Shane helped replicate the warm-up and then would follow me in the WCU car around the route, offering encouragement and advising me afterwards. These tactics of devising a local route on which to practise before a race were ones I adopted throughout my career.
As in the previous year, the time-trial would be held early in the week, a few days before the road race. Those test rides with Shane around Cowbridge had helped a lot, but I was nervous about the time-trial. I had been seeded as the last rider to start. I knew that the pressure was on me to perform.
Given the course with its two climbs, it was no good going flat out on the last climb as you needed energy to keep a high cadence on the fast 4km descent. Peg Hill was there and was a calming and supportive presence and agreed with the tactical plan. I could only marvel at how different the experience was 12 months after the Laurel and Hardy show.
At the time check at the top of the second hill, I was fourth, 13 seconds behind my friend Natalia Boyarskaya. I span that gear for all I was worth on the descent, with Shane supporting me from the car behind. I really wanted this win to make up for last year. I crossed the line not knowing the result, the support staff ran over and caught me just as I was about to collapse and they shouted out that I had won. Tears welled up as I tried to take it all in. Shane passed me the phone; he had already got through to Dad.
Winning the time-trial was fantastic, but now there was even more pressure on me to win the road race. If I could win, it would be only the second time a junior had won and defended the road race, and so far across all categories, male and female, only four riders had ever won the time-trial and road race double in the same year. Unfortunately, I was likely to be riding this without a strong team. Claire, who had joined me on the recce, was ill and that left Lorna Webb as my only team-mate. Lorna is a smashing girl and always gave her best but she finished 50th at nearly 18 minutes, so was not in the position to assist my efforts to retain the title. The other nations would know my situation and I was likely to be attacked every kilometre of the way. Unlike the infamous National Championships of 2000, here working as teams against the lone favourite was exactly what they were meant to do. The rules of engagement were entirely different.
Looking back, I never felt as much pressure in my career as I did for this race. The other teams knew me from the previous year, they knew my style and they could base their strategies on me. Every time I turned up on the course, the other coaches and riders motioned and pointed. I couldn’t hear but I knew what they were saying. I would only ever get this one chance to do my ‘Double Double’. Fortunately, Peg Hill really understood racing and the pressures that riders were under. She was great in helping me prepare myself mentally for the race. The other big difference between this race and the British Championships was the distance; being a junior race this was a relatively short 73km while the British Championships were 115km.
Halfway through the first lap, there was a crash behind and Lorna went down, so I was well and truly on my own in this six-lap race. I attacked on the second lap, wanting to create a breakaway of strong riders. Five riders came with me, including Maja Wloszczowska, my mountain bike competitor, Natalia Boyarskaya (again), Pleuni Möhlmann and Lithuanians Modesta Vzesniauskaite and Indre Januleviciute. Natalia, Maja, Pleuni and I worked hard but the gap never got above one minute as the four Italians, in particular, together with the Germans chased behind. We were caught at a critical point, on the first climb of the final lap.
We were then joined by riders who had been protected by their team-mates and were fresh compared with those of us in the break. I was careful in selecting the moment but decided to attack again. It worked and Maja, Natalia and Pleuni, all from our previous breakaway group, joined me as we rode away from the surprised riders who expected us to be absorbed into the bunch. Clearly they also felt that having committed so much to this break, they didn’t want to be caught either.
On the second climb, I launched more attacks but Pleuni stuck with me. I had one last place to attack, just before the crest of the hill. I gave it everything. I got a gap and sprinted along the top of the hill and into the descent. As I came into the finishing straight, I knew I’d opened up a big enough gap, so I raised my hands in the air with about 200m to go and saluted the crowds as I enjoyed the ride to the line. I felt the relief; I’d done it.
The cycling journalists were generous in their conclusions. The Guardian wrote: ‘The 18-year-old Welshwoman pulled off her 12-month hat-trick of world junior titles – mountain bike, time-trial and now successful defence of the road championship she won last year in Brittany – with a stunning display of sheer strength and sang-froid, of mental maturity as much as pedalling muscle. It was clear from the off that the other medal contenders were going to base their race on what Cooke did, and that they would shadow her every move. The knowledge that she would be followed wherever she went, and that she would be expected to dictate the race pattern, could have broken a lesser competitor’s nerve but Cooke was simply too strong.’
I look at those results sheets now and see names of riders with whom I would become so familiar over the years. Maja had a bronze to go with her two silvers but would go onto senior gold. Giorgia Bronzini was set up that day to win the bunch sprint by her Italian team. They would work very effectively with her many times throughout her career and she would take two world road titles. At senior level, she would have five and not three team-mates. Vera Koedooder, who had thrashed me so easily at Orleans, was also in the top ten. She was for some time touted as the replacement for Leontien van Moorsel. Vera is still a full-time rider. Natalia and Emma Johansson were in that race in 2001 and both would have major roles at Beijing.
I revelled in the atmosphere for the next few days with Uncle Chris and Craig, as Mum and Dad were at work. We watched the senior races and then celebrated with Maurizio who was on top of the world. His Lithuanian rider, Rasa Polikeviciute, had won the elite women’s road race. He already counted me as one of the team so had two World champions and threw a massive party that we all enjoyed. I started dreaming about winning the Senior World Championship road race and what it might be like for me.
When I got home, the Cardiff Ajax had gone crazy; I think the whole club was at Cardiff airport with banners and balloons. When I came out of arrivals, it was a huge surprise to see them all together, along with Mum and Dad. Then it was back to Wick and a celebration at the Star Inn, where Ajax friends joined us and most of the village in a celebration for the whole community. My friends were there and as the party quietened down towards the end of the night, we talked about our futures. They had all just started university a couple of weeks previously and our adult lives were beginning. I was now on a new path, unsure of where it led, while at the same time thrilled that I was entering the professional ranks of cycling: I had my three golds for 2001; the WCPP were being helpful at World Championships; and Peg Hill, the new coach, was great. The issues that had so blighted the year before looked to be a thing of the past. I’d had a big wake-up call with my overtraining episode in the first half of the year and realised I had to keep better track of my training and recovery.
I didn’t have to go to school the next morning but I still got up early and did the school ride with Craig. I raced off down the road toward Bridgend, with a bag full of my old textbooks strapped to my carrier to make sure we kept our loads fair. We rode over all the hills and we finished, like always, with the full throttle sprint to the Volvo garage. Craig went on to Brynteg and I rode home, thinking about my training ride that afternoon, a steady four-hour endurance ride.
I flew to Treviso in November, full of excitement and ready to sign a contract with Maurizio’s Acca Due O team, buoyed by how well our telephone calls had gone and the enthusiasm the team was showing for me. Maurizio arrived, bounding in with his arms waving everywhere, and seemed to be trying to get as many ‘campionessa’s’ as possible into each sentence. We quickly got into the details of his favourite subject: dominating the world of women’s cycling. Despite my rough Italian, we were now speaking the same language.
For no apparent reason, Maurizio stood up, grabbed his papers, put on his coat, said he’d send me a contract in the next few days and then left. I was amazed; there seemed to be no reason for what just happened or why. Maurizio was a man capable of actions that were not readily explained, but this was unusual even for him. Instead of signing a contract and planning next year’s racing calendar, I was left alone and empty handed and there was nothing much I could do but go back to Wick and wait.
Giancarlo telephoned me a week later. My bright ‘Hello’ was met with pleasant greetings but quickly the tone changed as we got on to the news that Giancarlo was delivering as Maurizio’s messenger: ‘You’re not on the team for next year.’
My heart pounded. What did he mean not on the team for next year? Until then everything had been so positive. After winning three world titles in a year, I thought it was just a matter of negotiating a contract. Giancarlo tried to explain: Rasa Polikeviciute’s victory in the elite race had thrown a proverbial spanner in the works. Maurizio had been expecting to release her from her contract at the end of the year. Her best year had been in 1997, when she had been overall winner of the prestigious Hewlett Packard Challenge, but since then Rasa’s results had declined and it was thought she was about to retire. A further complication was that Rasa had an identical twin sister Jolanta, and they only rode as a pair. Now Rasa was World champion, and the sponsors wanted her in the team. So instead of two planned vacancies, there were none. Giancarlo tried to put a positive spin on it. Even if I had been accepted, there were some very senior riders already in place, including Diana Ziliute and Swiss Nicole Brandli who had won the Giro d’Italia, so I would be bottom of the pecking order, which would offer limited opportunities in my first year. It would be much better for me to look elsewhere. We said goodbye and I was left shattered. I went back to the kitchen where we were eating dinner and told Mum, Dad and Craig the news. No one knew what to say. How could this happen?
So what were those talks with Maurizio in his office back in the summer all about? I remembered Maurizio’s joy at the World Championships in Lisbon and the party we’d had to celebrate. Perhaps he didn’t know what complications were ahead on the night, but he should have been fully aware of the problem a month later when I was encouraged to fly to Treviso to negotiate a contract. Why would he do that? And now he didn’t even have the decency to tell me himself! Giancarlo was the messenger, a good foil for Maurizio whom he advised as a friend rather than a paid scout. He was organised, known to lose his temper for something he felt passionately about, and clever enough to make things happen regardless of the circumstances. I valued his friendship and saw him as a long-term mentor to value in the years ahead.
I pulled myself together and contacted a couple of other teams – Équipe Nürnberger in Germany and Farm Frites in Holland – but this was the wrong time of year to be attempting to find a contract. Most teams had completed their rosters months before and their budgets were spent. They were offering me a pittance that I wouldn’t be able to survive on, even if board and lodging were provided.
As I reflected on my predicament, I knew that the only thing I could do was put my head down and get back into training, taking my frustration out on the hills of South Wales, thinking about how I could make a mark on the peloton in 2002 that no one would be able to dismiss. I couldn’t immediately solve the team problem, but there was one race that I could prepare for in the full knowledge that I would be able to ride it. The 2002 Commonwealth Games were to be held in Manchester and I was desperate to perform for Wales. So I drove to Riverton at the beginning of December to look at the course, testing myself on the hills and taking photos to help remind me of the important features of the course. The field would include current World No.1, Australian Anna Millward, backed up by a powerhouse of five other Australians. The Canadian duo of defending champion Lyne Bessette and the unbelievable Genevieve Jeanson would also be backed up by a full squad of strong riders, just like the New Zealanders. In the case of Genevieve, I was hoping those EPO tests in Canada were being tried to the full. And then Team England would also field six riders, all of whom would be delighted to make a pact and work with anyone to make sure one of their number finished ahead of me.
Looking back, it seems astonishing that I was planning for the win. I was 18, the only female in Wales competitive at an international level and there was no way we would be able to develop one or two more riders, let alone five, by July. Shane was making some modest efforts in this regard but Julian Winn was starting to get competitive on the British scene, and Shane was committing lots of time to him. Even if I thought about it, all these factors didn’t really matter to me. I was going to race for the win and set this as my goal for 2002. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to deal with all these riders, but I was going to give it my all.