I needed to work out how I was going to get from the Athens failure through the next four-year Olympic cycle to be capable of winning in Beijing in 2008. It seemed my biggest issues were how I evaluated my training and the tactical limitations of having little British team support. I was determined to address both.
I needed a coach, someone independent who I could trust to tell me when to train harder and when to ease off. I knew I was prone to selecting a default mode of try harder, train harder, race harder. Dad had guided me through my early years, although his judgement, like mine, could also be compromised by being so close to the daily intensity and pressures. Now I was older, would I really listen to him? I approached British Cycling and Chris Boardman, 1992 Olympic Pursuit champion and three-time winner of the Tour de France prologue, was proposed as a potential coach. Chris could provide an independent perspective on my programme, help analyse the data and would be someone I would listen to when he advised me to ease off and I wanted to keep going.
Regarding team support, I couldn’t have asked any more of Rachel Heal at Athens; she rode wonderfully, but she’d had only one year living and riding in the continental peloton. Where were the others? Sara Symington was the best of the UK-based WCPP riders and she was a DNF at Athens and then retired. British Cycling had not sent any junior women to the three road World Championships since my win in Lisbon 2001. I was spending my time in the winter visiting clubs and I saw a great enthusiasm from the girls. The WCPP might be producing male track riders but it certainly wasn’t looking after the potential female road riders of the future. Why was this talent not coming through? Dave Brailsford was good enough to listen to my ideas for how we could deal with this and assurances were made that British Cycling would make efforts for the World Championships in Madrid.
For the media, one Olympic gold medal was pretty much the same as another. Maybe I should widen my horizons and look at some of the other events? In the time-trial you were not dependent on a team. Mountain biking was an even more interesting prospect. It demanded a high level of physical ability and still offered tactical challenges yet did not require a team. But I loved road racing. Races are held in all weather conditions, from the sleet and snow of the spring classics to the summer heat of Provence. The roads can be as smooth as an autostrada or as rough as the Belgian cobblestones. I had experienced winning in a massive shoulder-to-shoulder bunch sprint over the last 200m, and having ridden all day to victory in a solo break. Every single race you start is different. You can win (or lose) by pretending to be the strongest, when in reality you are feeling terrible, or conversely you can be strong and kid everyone that you are having a bad day. Each race was as tactically interesting as it was physically demanding. I loved living in Italy, in this world that I understood and understood me. However, I had to face reality if I dreamed of an Olympic gold.
I decided that my 2005 programme would include road racing, time-trialling and mountain biking. I began working with Chris Boardman on a pre-season training programme that combined mountain biking sessions, lengthy road rides for endurance and intense sprint sessions at Newport velodrome. In mid-February, I returned to Italy for pre-season training with the team and then flew to Cyprus for my first test in mountain biking. The field was of a moderate international standard and although I won all of my four races, and was able to dedicate time to my technical development, I was not going to get carried away. Even so, I quietly hoped that I’d got the formula right.
Back in Italy, there was a new team house in Montebelluna and sadly it meant Nonna had lost out, although I would often go round to say hello. There were five of us living in the team house, which made for an interesting cultural mix with Rochelle Gilmore, Gessica Turato (an Italian who would go on to win the European U23 Championships that season), Mexican Giuseppina Grassi and Miyoko Karami from Japan. This was Giuseppina’s second stint on the professional circuit, having ridden as a domestique in the mid-’90s with a major team but cracked under the stress and worked harvesting apples to pay for a ticket to get home. She spent some years back in Mexico, then decided to return to Europe to try again. Miyoko was embarking on her first season in the professional ranks and we all liked her pluckiness and the way she dealt with the new challenges of life in a foreign country and the wacky everyday events of the cycling world.
The season got off to a great start when I won the GP Rosignano, the scene of my first professional win three years before. I went into the Primavera Rosa World Cup with high hopes of a win. There was still a group of 15 riders as we started the final descent towards the finish, which included four riders from the Nürnberger Versicherung team – Judith Arndt, Trixi Worrack, Oenone Wood and Regina Schleicher who had been our sprinter last year but moved back to a German-based team, perhaps with an eye on the World Championships later that year.
You could see the logic from the Germans: this year’s World Championships were likely to finish in a bunch sprint, and Regina could ride all year with her German team-mates, who could then deliver her to a sprint finish in Madrid, having practised it all season. Everyone was a winner as the team and sponsors benefited, and so did the riders who could share the races during the season and repay the favour. How I envied such forward planning.
As we approached the finish, the ‘Blue Train’, as the media later referred to the Nürnberger team, upped the pace, occupying the first four places. It was a classic leadout for a sprinter. I fought my way onto Regina’s wheel ready to do battle with her in the final 200m. We went round a bend 400m from the finish, and the pace seemed to ease off slightly. As we came out of the bend, I saw the reason why. Trixi, who had been on the front, had accelerated round the corner while her team-mates behind her had eased, allowing her to get a gap, and now she was making her bid for victory.
I was trapped, with no team-mates to chase her down. If I jumped after Trixi, I would simply be providing a leadout to one of her team-mates; being the only Safi rider, I was reliant on other teams to chase Trixi. It was a clever move on their part. I did the only thing I could do in that situation and won the bunch sprint for second place. But I was seething inside that I had lost out yet again on such a prestigious victory, foiled by a stronger team with some very smart tactics.
The following day, our team presentation took place back at Cornuda and I was again honoured that Maurizio had chosen my win in the Giro d’Italia the previous year as the photo for the team’s Astoria Prosecco bottles. My good form continued the following week when I won the Trofeo Alfredo Binda in Lombardy, before we headed to Belgium for the Tour of Flanders World Cup.
I had missed the inaugural women’s Tour of Flanders the previous season through injury and was looking forward to riding one of the great spring classics. It includes many notorious climbs and for good measure also has many cobbled sections, a real test of bike handling, tactics and physical strength. I made an early break that was reeled in by the bunch before the main climb, the Muur de Geraardsbergen. Mirjam Melchers of the Buitenpoort-Flexpoint team broke away before the Muur, then Susanne Ljungskog attacked on the climb, catching Mirjam, and the duo stayed away to finish first and second. The race for third place ended in a farce when my group of 20 riders were led off course by an official race car about 2km from the finish. We ended up riding through the finish line in the wrong direction and being disqualified.
We stayed in Belgium and I won the GP Roeselare in a bunch sprint ahead of Oenone Wood, which set me up nicely for the Flèche Wallonne three days later. It had turned into my favourite race with its steep finishing climb, the Mur de Huy, and although I was struggling on some of the longer climbs, my good run continued with a very satisfying victory, with Oenone second and Judith Arndt third.
This was my fourth win from six starts, and was a terrific antidote to any hangover from Athens. Other good news to look forward to was that a round of the World Cup would be staged in Newport, with the ever-industrious Bill Owen at the heart of the organising group, I was delighted at the prospect of being with my team as they came to Wales. As the team returned to Montebelluna, I went to Spa in Belgium to compete in the first round of the Mountain Bike World Cup, wondering if it was possible to win two World Cup races in separate disciplines in the same week. The answer was a resounding ‘no’, as I finished in a respectable but uncompetitive 11th place. My limitations riding off-road were shown up at the second round in Madrid a fortnight later, where I finished way down the field. If winning World Cup mountain bike races meant giving up road racing in order to concentrate on them, then the answer was simple. The road was where my heart was and where I belonged. While in Madrid, I took the opportunity to recce the course for the road World Championships, which appeared certain to finish in a bunch sprint, so I adjusted my training to suit.
I had been back in Italy only a few days when I felt a niggling pain in my knee in training, but this time the pain was in my right knee. I recognised the pain immediately as similar to what I had felt before in my left knee, so I eased off, heading back carefully to the team house where I spent a nervous night hoping it was just a blip. When the same thing happened the next day, I booked a flight back to Wales, as I wasn’t going to delay this time, and I went straight to see Dr Rod Jaques in Bath to get an assessment. It was the same problem – an aggravation of the plica membrane – and surgery was still a last resort. I stopped training and began a rehabilitation programme, which we estimated would take four weeks, and that meant I would be out of action until the middle of June.
The rehab programme completed, I flew back to Italy for the Giro del Trentino. I finished second in the first 120km stage, admittedly a fairly flat course, and then as we headed into the mountains the next day I was riding well and in the leading group of six riders. Then, the niggling ache returned and I limped to the finish in sixth place. Reluctantly I pulled out of the race before having a frank conversation with Maurizio. If I couldn’t do two days’ consecutive racing, there was no way I could do the Giro, which was our main goal for the season. I needed surgery again but first asked the doctors if I could race the British Nationals. Jonathan Webb said it wouldn’t do any long-term damage and that actually causing further irritation would make it easier to see the inflammation during the operation. It was just a matter of whether I could stand the pain.
Of course I could. I really wanted to win the National title and wear the champion’s jersey for another year. It was a rolling course at Ryedale in Yorkshire, and I decided that my best chance was to form an early breakaway group of a manageable size, establish a lead over the bunch and then hang on as best I could and hope the group came to a finish in a sprint where I could be confident. As I attacked, Rachel Heal, Helen Wyman (née Saunders, from my early years), Emma Davies and Emma Pooley, who was riding in her first British Championships, came with me and, as planned, I managed to control the race, resting the knee as often as possible during the three hours and sprinting away in the last 400m to take my sixth victory. Rachel was second, for the fourth year in a row.
I went into surgery two days later. It appeared to go well and the early recovery was as promising as my left knee a year earlier. However, I got a minor infection in the cut which delayed things. Then, just as I was about to build up to full training, the pain in my knee began again. The complications seemed never-ending. My knee had to be strapped to lift the kneecap slightly on one side to ease the pressure on that area, while the internal wound continued to heal. The demons of Athens were still lurking in my mind and now that I was injured and couldn’t race, I felt that I wasn’t only letting myself down but the team too and doubted whether I would ever reach my full potential after the operation.
I decided to put the enforced time off the bike to good use. At the end of 2004, the UCI set up a commission to move women’s road racing forward. I had joined straight away and was selected to be part of the eight-rider committee. During 2005, a topic of debate was the Olympic programme where two track events (the 1km for men and 500m for women) were to be removed, so that BMX could be introduced, leaving seven track events for the men and just three for the women. A group set up a petition calling for the reinstatement of these two events, though I thought this did not go far enough. I proposed to the UCI commission that we should lobby for equality of cycling events at the Olympics and was very disheartened that some members of the women’s commission did not want to support such an initiative.
I wrote to the UCI, highlighting the inequality and asked them to address this. It became clear that there was no support or desire to listen to the women’s commission on this or many other issues and it was disbanded by the UCI before the end of the year. I was delighted when the inequality of the Olympic track programme was addressed for 2012, but the sexist bias could have been sorted out four years earlier.
Chris Boardman and I had also parted company. His contribution had been of valuable benefit to me, but we both agreed: why discuss the fine details of training data if I was not on a training programme but a rehabilitation process that needed doctors rather than coaches to guide me? I visited the World Cup when it came to Newport, but the day, watching a race in which I should have been fighting for the win, was a miserable experience. I doubted the race would ever be repeated in my career. It was now August, and I was struggling to see any positives. I was also alone, as Mum and Dad had gone on their summer holidays to ride the Alps, and Craig was now studying in Melbourne.
My home, normally a place of sanctuary and support, felt like solitary confinement, until I hit on the idea of asking Miyoko to come and stay with me, which Maurizio agreed to. She couldn’t speak much English and her Italian was still limited, but we spent a happy fortnight doing hard rides in the hills. We also spent some time exploring the area, visiting the beaches and going to the Glamorgan agricultural show where we watched sheep-shearing competitions and sampled Welsh Cakes. Her sunny disposition, appetite for training and ease at trying something new lifted my spirits, particularly the day she noticed me mowing the back lawn. She was captivated by the noisy machine, childlike in her excitement as she begged to have a go, finished the job, and then offered to do the front lawn too!
Miyoko and I joined the team in early September for the six-day Holland Ladies Tour, giving me about one month of racing before the World Championships. With a field of 164 riders, everyone who was likely to feature in Madrid was here: the last two World champions, Judith Arndt and Susanne Ljungskog, plus Oenone Wood, Mirjam Melchers, Kirsten Wild and others. Regina Schleicher had spent the season riding with her German team-mates at Nürnberger and they would be putting the finishing touches to their leadout practice. I was delighted to welcome fellow Brit Amy Hunt, a rider three years younger than me, who was with us as a stagiaire with a view to joining the team the following year. Phil Griffiths, a former top British amateur rider and now running a business distributing Italian cycle parts and accessories, was trying his hardest to help ease other British riders into the Italian scene to support me. There was another British rider in the race, Jacqui Marshall, one year younger than me, who recently had had a win in a Belgian criterium, ahead of a 60-plus field. She was in the same team as Helen Wyman, and Emma Davies was also riding. It was encouraging to see their initiative; maybe things would improve for British Cycling thanks to these girls, but they, like me, were doing it outside of the WCPP system.
Rochelle offered to lead me out on Stage 2. She did an excellent job and I should have rewarded her efforts and those of the rest of my team with a win, but I misjudged Regina’s late surge, relaxing too early, thinking I’d done enough to win. At the line, the judges consulted the photo finish equipment for a long time before declaring Regina first. It was my fault; they should not have needed to look. I had made the mistake of a novice. Despite being infuriated with second place, being so close to a win was encouraging and perhaps I could salvage something from the season after all.
By Stage 3, I was happy with how my knee was holding up to the continuous days of racing, so I was very angry with myself for getting caught up in a big bunch crash as the roads narrowed on to a cobbled section. I fell heavily, gashing my elbow, but luckily not my knees. My handlebars had been twisted and I had to wait for the team car with my replace ment bike. I chased and caught the peloton quite quickly, but within a few kilometres my saddle started to slide down into the frame. I was now pedalling with my legs in a crunched up style and it was hurting my right knee. The team mechanics had repaired my crashed bike and rejoined the race convoy, so I stopped and changed to my original bike, even though it did look somewhat the worse for wear. I chased again to get back to the peloton, and exhausted from the effort, I spent the rest of the stage worried about my knee and the damage I might have done.
On Stage 4, I strapped my knee, hoping to prevent any further aggravation or pain, and tried to take it as easy as possible in the bunch, not getting involved with the racing action. The 125km Stage 5 was a similar story, and when a small group broke away I hoped that the bunch would ride steadily to the end. As the stage went on and my knee was giving no signs of pain, I began to relax. With 15km to go, the time checks indicated the break was less than a minute in front of the bunch, and several teams who did not have any riders in the breakaway group began to organise a chase. I hovered near the front, watching to see what would happen and take advantage of any opportunity which might present itself.
As we entered the finishing circuit, the gap was 25 seconds. We had to do three complete laps of the 3km circuit. As we approached the finish line with one lap to go, the gap was about 20 seconds and I decided to take a gamble and jump across to the group alone, without any of the sprinters currently in the bunch coming with me. I chased like crazy, catching the break with just 400m to go, and I used my momentum to immediately launch my sprint to win the stage. Joyously, I held my arms outstretched as I crossed the line wearing my British National champion jersey, bandages over my arms, strapping on my knee and a wonky-looking bike. It was not the most glamorous of shots, but with the bunch six seconds behind the break it was a win which had combined all the necessary ingredients: tactics, pursuiting and sprinting. Coming as it did after a season ruined by injury, in my first race back after surgery and rehabilitation, it was a critical moment which convinced me that I could still dream of great victories.
At the last two rounds of the World Cup, I supported my team-mates, with Anna Zugno fourth at Rotterdam, behind winner Ina Teutenberg. One week later, at the final round at Nuremburg, Rochelle was the sprinter we were all supporting. She had not been picked by the Australian selectors for the World Championships, so we wanted to help her send a message to them. We worked hard to get her to the line, but she came second, narrowly beaten by Giorgia Bronzini. All the sprinters were testing themselves for Madrid. Oenone Wood won her second World Cup series in succession, and despite my disjointed season I finished ninth overall.
My final race before the World Championships was the six-day Giro di Toscana. By Stage 3, as a result of my lack of strength in the hills, I was well down on the GC and no threat for the overall win, so I escaped in a breakaway. In the closing stages, we received time checks indicating that the main group were chasing hard and would probably catch the break. I attacked the others to go it alone, I pressed on in time-trial mode for the last 5km, with the bunch swallowing up the breakaway and now breathing down my neck. I held off the charging pack to win by a couple of seconds; this was now the second time in a couple of weeks that I’d created a winning chance, despite not being the strongest in the peloton.
During the Giro di Toscana, I received visitors. Dave Brailsford had come to Tuscany to meet Max Sciandri, a British-born and Italian-raised former professional cyclist and bronze medallist in the 1996 Olympic road race. Dave was really taking to heart my message of ‘get them onto the continent’. He had visited Max with an idea of setting up a house in Italy for the U23 men’s academy as a base for them to ride continental races. Now they both talked with me about the idea of a house for the British women. The discussions were positive and at last I felt that things were moving in the right direction.
After the Giro di Toscana, the British team of Rachel Heal, Helen Wyman, Catherine Hare, Charlotte Goldsmith, Emma Pooley and me had a training camp in Tuscany. Of these, only Helen had been at the Holland Ladies Tour, so although we discussed tactics and practised manoeuvres for Madrid, we all understood the difficulty of translating these gestures into race-forming moves. Then, after our final pre-race briefing, at my suggestion, we watched a video of the Zolder World Championship men’s race which Mario Cipollini had won following perfect, race-long, support from the Italian team.
With lots of encouragement and Helen assisting, the girls sensed that this was a race where they could help me. We knew that we didn’t have the strength for the girls to do anything to counter the big teams in the last 5km, but if they could help me get there, it would be a plus, and if Rachel could do more, that would be a bonus. Sitting with the whole team watching a video and having a sensible discussion about tactics together with the coach was a new experience for me in a GB team. It had taken six long years of struggle, but things were changing. Dave Brailsford was bringing a new dynamism to the race strategy and preparation. The fact that I was being consulted rather than told what to do, was a major change which I appreciated greatly.
The squads from Germany, Australia, Holland, Italy, Russia and Lithuania all had plenty of capacity for delivering their sprinters to the final 200m, but it wasn’t their only option, as in their teams of six they also had riders capable of going the distance in a breakaway. Other nations like the USA and Canada would need to break up the race. Susanne Ljungskog was always a danger and there were about half a dozen other riders who would have the strength and desire to cause an upset. Joane Somarriba would be extremely motivated to win on home soil and would give everything she had. I knew from the Giro di Toscana that my endurance form was fragile, but in the sprints in Holland I’d been able to match the pure sprinters.
The course featured one long hill, so each lap I positioned myself near the front before the start of the climb so that during the climb I could allow myself to slide backwards through the bunch. What started as a tactic to conserve strength became a matter of survival after the halfway stage, as the serious attacks started coming. In the last three laps, the big attacks started from those who did not want a sprint finish. I only know that from reading the reports after the race, as it was all I could do to make sure I got back into the bunch after the hill each time. On the last lap, Joane launched a big attack on the final climb, not that I knew it was her at the time. All I knew was that I was really suffering just to stay in contact.
We were really stretched out from the action at the front. I had to pray that no one ahead of me was letting a gap open in front of them. As we crested the hill, I was still in contact. Rachel came alongside and led me up the side of the bunch until we were in the leading 12 riders. This was a terrific help. The German team appeared the strongest and Regina was their sprinter, so I knew I needed to get onto her wheel. The only problem was that I was not the only one who had worked out that this was the best place to be! After quite a bit of jostling, I was there with just under 1.5km to go.
With 1km left, Judith Arndt had taken over at the front and was going flat out, with Trixi and Regina tucked in behind. The finish was on a dual carriageway and to provide spectacle we rode past the finish on the opposite side before doing a 180 degree turn with 400m to go. As we went into the turn, Judith was riding too strongly and as she powered out of the bend she opened up a gap. There was a call from Trixi, so Judith eased and the German train stalled. This hesitation allowed other riders to start challenging, led by the Lithuanians who were leading out Diana Ziliute and the Australians leading out Oenone. If I waited behind the Germans, I could be overwhelmed by the other leadout teams and get nothing. The line was less than 400m away and getting closer every second.
Up the side came the Lithuanian train. I should have been following an ever-accelerating German leadout all the way to 200m and now that they were being passed, I was being passed. I was in no-man’s land. I knew if I waited, I could never win. I went for the line myself. It was a long drag. Trixi got going again, so Regina had her leadout and powered over the line to win with me in second place. I stood with clenched teeth during the medal ceremony. The pictures show a happy Regina and Oenone and an unsmiling Nicole. My desperation to be a World champion wouldn’t allow me to be satisfied with second, regardless of the circumstances and being beaten on the day by a very fast sprinter, led out by her national and trade team-mates.
Looking back, I am very proud of that ride. Behind me was Australia with Oenone, Italy supporting their sprinter Giorgia Bronzini and the Lithuanians supporting Diana. I was delighted with our new-look GB team. At long last, we had worked as a team and even though we had a long way to go, these were good first steps. For the first time ever, a GB rider had helped me in a worthwhile manner in the closing kilometres of a race. Rachel’s help was critical. Earlier in the race, my team-mates gathered around me as best they could, to help me get back into a good position in the bunch, as I slid out of the back on the hill. Without this support, there would have been no silver medal for the GB team, the single medal of these championships for Britain. Rachel had come through for 2005, despite those missed opportunities at the end of 2002; together, we were one step away from the top position. We needed to arrest the cycle of riders coming to the team only to leave a couple of years later, disillusioned by what they saw around them. With Peg Hill there had been one opportunity lost; here, four years later, another opportunity presented itself to British Cycling. Rachel and the others needed careful nurturing.
I may have always thought that the women in British Cycling were getting a rough deal, but an incident in the men’s race showed that it could be just as bad for the men. Roger Hammond was the team’s best rider; with a third in Paris-Roubaix to his credit. He wasn’t an out-and-out sprinter, more a fine classics rider. During the race, the crowds were treated to the strange sight of two GB riders riding on the front for several laps to close the gap to a breakaway. These tactics were not in the interest of the British team, as one of the stronger teams such as the Italians would normally have done this, as there were no Italians in the break. Tom Southam and Charlie Wegelius were effectively riding for Italy and not GB or Roger. Later the collusion between the Italian team and these riders was exposed, and they, along with British team manager John Herety, were permanently excluded from ever performing with a GB team again. For far too long, the team officials had thought that they could do what they wanted; after all, the riders had signed agreements telling them they must do as instructed so the chance of them complaining was very limited . . . apart from that ‘troublesome’ Nicole Cooke.
Looking back, this was clearly a turning point in the way British Cycling operated its road teams and would lead to the eventual success achieved by Team Sky. At the time, I simply knew that at last, after all my years of demanding improved standards of behaviour, changes were now happening in British Cycling.
I had been giving a lot of thought to the following year. I had seen how well the Nürnburger team was organised, not simply having good riders but the support staff, equipment and general race organisation. When Maurizio started his team in the ’90s, he was the best. Now the other teams had caught up and gone past him. While I had been concentrating on my build-up for the World Championships, some people had been working on my behalf discussing options with other teams, even including the possibility, which Dave Brailsford had mentioned, of a GB team house in Tuscany. When I got back to Montebelluna, I told Maurizio that I would not be re-signing with the team. He was good about it, telling me I would always have a friend. He asked if I had already signed with another team and actually, although those working on my behalf seemed confident, I admitted I had not received a contract or even a written proposal.
Together with my team-mates, we organised a big end-of-season party and then I headed back to Wales, ready to prepare myself for the future.
I hadn’t quite finished for the year. The mountain bike trial had not worked out, but there was no reason why I couldn’t target the track for the Commonwealth Games in Melbourne in March 2006, particularly now that Wales had an indoor velodrome in Newport. I would ride both the road race and the track. I entered the British National Track Championships and went into the races with nothing to lose. The 15km scratch race was an attack fest in the closing stages, with move and counter move, and I came in third behind Victoria Pendleton and Rachel Heal. The following day, in the points race, I dominated every sprint, winning my first and only senior National Track Championship.
Looking at the long term, I still needed to work with a coach. The coaching stint with Chris Boardman had ended because of my injury. British Cycling then recommended working with Dan Hunt, who I knew from the Welsh Institute of Sport although I had never worked with him. He was now with BC WCPP and together we formulated a programme targetting road and the track points race. My first test on the track would be the Manchester World Cup in December, with an eye on the Commonwealth Games, now just five months away.
I also needed some riders in the Welsh road team to defend my Commonwealth Games title. In 2002, as a first-year senior, I had been able to take advantage of the rivalry between the Australians and Canadians, but it was certain that this time they would use their six-rider teams to mark me out of it. In the winter of 2004–05, I had gained agreement from the Welsh Cycling Union to run a programme similar to the one being run for the men to develop girls specifically for the Commonwealth Games, and during 2005 the girls travelled all over Britain to designated races. Unfortunately, there was still a dearth of races for women and it was a big commitment for them to travel so far each weekend.
Mike Townley and Dave Brailsford were putting together a deal with Bob Stapleton, an American multi-millionaire who was about to take over the men’s T-Mobile team and wanted to run a women’s team alongside it. The idea was to get some of the British U23 men and GB female riders on the team. Negotiations were going well. I also met with Julian Winn, the latest WCU coach, who was also still a rider at that time and had his own preparations for Melbourne 2006 to optimise. We met to discuss the winter programme through to the Games, as I needed to train and race with the girls over the next months so we could practise our teamwork. Julian and I agreed a programme and we informed the girls so that they could plan time off work with their employers.
Just before I set off to travel to London to finalise discussions with my prospective new team, the WCU informed me of the selection decisions for the forthcoming Commonwealth Games. They had decided that I was to ride alone. I enquired about the men’s team supporting national coach Julian Winn. What had they decided to do for the men? That had a full quota of six riders. Just why did I waste my breath asking?
Chris Landon was chairman of the WCU and of the selection commission. He explained that it was the recommendation of the coach. I pointed out that only a few days before, the coach had held a very different opinion and how, after speaking to him, I had sent emails to other riders reflecting that position. It was irrelevant. The selection commission had made a decision and there was to be no going back and changing it now as that would look weak. I could have understood it if the men’s team stood a better chance of bringing back a medal than the women’s, but in fact the opposite was the case.
The girls were devastated. They had been working towards this aim for 12 months, training, travelling to races, giving up their normal social life and dedicating themselves to this goal. They had suspected that something was amiss for some time, as they could see the attention that the men’s squad was receiving, while they were practically ignored. On one occasion, when Julian was meant to watch their performances at a selection race, he turned up, went for a training session by himself, didn’t see them race and left without talking to them. As the WCU refused to budge, I went to the Commonwealth Games Council for Wales (CGCW) and the Welsh Sports Council. Eventually the WCU were brought to a meeting and forced to reconsider their dogmatic stance by the CGCW, which resulted in the WCU changing their decision and sending a letter to the girls.
But it was too late. The three girls – Michelle Ward, Rebecca Jones and Alex Greenfield – politely declined and decided to move on with their lives. British women’s cycling had just lost another three talented riders to add to the many others over the years. What a terrible and avoidable waste of time, effort, ambition and talent! By their decision, the WCU had gifted Australia, Canada, England and New Zealand my head on a plate. Not only was a full men’s team being sent to the race itself, but even more money was to be lavished on two warm-weather training camps, no doubt accompanied by a full complement of support staff. No wonder they were trying to cut down costs by not even sending the women to the race itself!
What was the result of all this expensive preparation for the Welsh men’s team as Julian, with Shane Sutton behind him, optimised marginal gains for them? Of the six male riders who started the road race in Melbourne, not one of them finished. Even riders from those well-known cycling superpowers Mauritius, Namibia and Malta rode with dignity and passion and at least managed to finish.
As I travelled to London trying to take in this news from the men who ran Welsh Cycling, I could predict all the events that would come to pass in the next few months. When I arrived, I was in no fit state to have a critical career conversation with anyone. My mind was raging with the injustice and duplicity of it all: the WCU treatment of me and women in general, and the fact that the coach said one thing to me and another thing to the commission two days later.
In London, I met Bob Stapleton of T-Mobile. Bob wanted to negotiate some points of the contract with me – I’m sure he did – but I was currently having an ‘off period’ with anything that resembled an alpha male, particularly if he wanted me to negotiate. We couldn’t come to an agreement and parted ways. It was November and I now had to start again looking for a contract for the 2006 season.
Giancarlo Ghillioni, the scout who had organised my first meeting with Maurizio after I won the Junior World road title in 2000, called me. Maurizio no doubt had told him that I had left Safi and hadn’t yet signed a contract. Giancarlo, knowing even better than me the world of cycling teams and contracts, was calling to check how I was getting on. Would I be interested in meeting Thomas Campana, a former amateur cyclist who ran the Univega Pro Cycling team? The team had been around the previous year as a Swiss national level team.
I called Thomas, who told me that he had plans to boost its ranks for 2006 and was keen to add me to the list. The only problem, as usual, was money, but he had a plan. Univega was a sister company of the British Raleigh Bikes firm, so he suggested a deal under which my salary would be paid by Raleigh UK and I would race on a Raleigh frame, while the other team riders would use the Univega frames. I asked if I could arrange personal sponsorship. Yes, this would be okay, as long as it didn’t conflict with anything else and was agreed in advance, so I extended my contract with Nike for racing shoes and glasses. A Cardiff businessman, Del DelaRonde had from time to time over the years helped me out in different ways. I spoke with him and he got in touch with Thomas and he agreed to become a part sponsor of the team.
Thomas organised a press conference to announce the signing during the World Cup track meet in Manchester. It would take place on the day after I competed in the points race. First, I had an innocuous qualifying round to ride. Early in the race, I scored enough points to book my place in the final, so I was taking it easy riding low on the track. I was then hit by a rider from above me and crashed heavily. I was rushed off to the hospital where x-rays confirmed I had broken my collarbone. Luckily, the bone had not completely separated into two parts so there was no need to operate, but it did not save me from excruciating pain that night.
The press conference went ahead the next day to announce my new team for 2006 and sponsorship deal with Raleigh. Thomas was there with his partner and fellow rider Priska Doppmann. He also introduced me to the directeur sportif Manel Lacambra who had also made the trip, showing their belief in me that I was the person to lead the team to be one of the best in women’s cycling. I refused to wear a sling for the photos and gingerly held the bike with my good arm, trying to smile for the publicity shots.
Inside I was turning over. Time and again it happened; just as things were looking up. After the blow about the Welsh team, here I was again, having to deal with a serious upset to my plans. I would need to rest the shoulder for at least a month, and training for Melbourne and the early season was washed out. Sitting at home on the turbo trainer, with my arm now in the sling, I had more than enough time to wonder if I would ever be able to string more than a few good weeks together. How I wanted to get out on the road and feel the rain on my face and the burn in my legs, and suck in the clean, salt-tinged air blowing in fresh from across the Atlantic.