CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Unfulfilled Commitments

While I was moving into my new flat, on 29 December Thomas Campana flew into Manchester for a meeting with Dave Brailsford, Dan Hunt and Dad. One year on from our fantastic introduction camp in the igloo at Engelberg, our team had achieved more than we could have hoped for: World No.1 rider, World Cup winner and three riders in the top five at the World Time-Trial Championships, with Karin Thürig in silver and my bronze in the road race. We were the top team in the world; however, Floyd Landis and Operation Puerto were still creating victims across the continents. While Pierre Boué lost sponsors and shortened the Tour further, Thomas was facing similar problems and had parted company with Univega. He was casting around for sponsors with little luck.

There was another underlying challenge around us. Many a women’s cycling team had spiralled off into oblivion fuelled by personal relationships between the male manager and female team members. Priska was Thomas’s life-partner. In the previous year’s World Championships she had finished fifth in the road race and had beaten me by 0.59 of a second in the time-trial. Without me in the team, she would be the star and an ideal team scenario would feature herself as the unchallenged leader and Thomas the manager.

The previous year, I had ridden a Raleigh machine and had my wages paid by Raleigh, while the rest of the team rode Univega bikes. As a result of my publicity, Raleigh were keen to extend their relationship with me. In addition Cardiff businessman Del DelaRonde, who had part-sponsored the team, wanted to do all he could to help me. Thomas explained the financial situation to Del. Despite its success, the team would not run in 2007 unless new sponsors could be found.

Del fully understood the nuances of the complex situation. He had followed my career for ten years and had seen how the talent behind me had been lost to the sport. Like me, he knew that I needed at least one other British rider in that last 15 of the World Championships or Olympics if I was to turn silver or bronze into gold, and that British Cycling had to be able to claim a portion of the success as of their making if ever they were to support me. Del recognised the opportunity as a canny entrepreneur would. He introduced me to two of his business associates, Michael Jankowski of Creation, a sports car racing team, and Heather Bird. Both were complete stars and fully engaged in what Del proposed. Raleigh would widen their sponsorship and be joined by Michael, Heather and Del. So exactly as in late 2002 and the ill-fated attempt that so nearly came off to get Rachel to Italy, here we were, Del, Dad and me, four years later, attempting the same thing and trying to get some British riders into my trade team, only this time I held a few more cards.

For Priska there was a reality – without my presence, her team would have to revert to Swiss national status and would not get starts in all the big races, so her own ambitions for Beijing would be thwarted. I think both she and Thomas accepted this in the most positive and professional manner. A critical question was: who would replace Manel? On a women’s team, the directeur sportif not only developed tactics but had to be involved in all the logistics in preparing for the race. Directing and helping the mechanics preparing the bikes, organising the meals and food and drinks in races, as well as liaising with the media to promote our results – it was a very hectic and varied job. Manel was very good at this, as well as superb tactically. He was going to be extremely hard to replace.

In a deserted Manchester velodrome, an attempt was made to thrash out a deal. Dave Brailsford stated that he needed to develop some British riders to form a women’s team and that was best done on the continent. He also needed a British women’s team manager who did not ‘fly-in, fly-out’ but was familiar with the riders and staff of other teams. The post had been vacant for over a year, after he stalled on the women’s team house in Italy while progressing the U23 men’s version. Thomas needed sponsors’ money and an effective directeur sportif. He did not have a need for riders, but he fully understood the need for me to have GB riders with me at a World Championships.

I had to keep this very good team intact, but I also needed British riders to be developed alongside me. I could bring a dowry of sponsors but I needed it to be used wisely. Thomas was effective in what he did and was motivated for team success, and therefore I had no worries about his commitment. But I had had several years of observing British Cycling doing wonders on the track and for the U23 road men, but somehow opportunity after opportunity fell through their fingers when it came to the women’s road team. I needed Dave Brailsford to be locked into a commitment that extended to others beyond myself. Surely this modest proposal, so much less than he was doing for the U23 men, and partly funded by British sponsors – because I was there – could be supported by the WCPP? After all, Dave was very keen to tell me every time he saw me that he wanted to support me through 2007 to Beijing 2008. Here was a golden opportunity to make good that commitment.

Of the girls available, Thomas agreed that Tanja Slater and Anneliese Heard would join me, but he did not want to work with Emma Pooley, who he had seen compete and did not impress him. Ironically, later, after he recognised her talent, she would ride for his team for several years. Anneliese’s career had stalled after her Junior World Triathlon titles. I had great sympathy for her plight. She was a competent cyclist and fierce competitor as a triathlete in her youth, and the prospects of becoming a good road rider were high if she could concentrate on that discipline alone. Due to the lack of sponsorship for the team, Thomas could supply only board and lodging, so British Cycling would recommend the two girls for Lottery grant support. To have two British riders in the team alongside me was a great start. The other part of the plan would be for British Cycling to develop a team manager who could manage the women’s road team in time for Beijing. Therefore, it seemed an ideal opportunity for BC to supply a manager to work with our team and understudy Thomas. Some financial support would also be given in relation to transport and other activities that could be attributed to supporting the development of the British riders by the team.

As a consequence of this happy coming together, it seemed like British Cycling, Thomas, Priska, Tanja, Anneliese and I would all be winners. At best, one could only describe the benefits accrued to the companies run by Heather, Michael and Del as ‘indirect’, but their contributions were greatly appreciated. Was this grand plan going to work? Thomas backed up his commitment straightaway. Tanja and Anneliese came out to Switzerland and were immediately taken with some other team-mates to Italy to get measured up for their full set of racing kit. On the way back, they stopped off in Lugano. Spirits could not have been better, as I met up with Tanja, Anneliese, Thomas and various other team-mates for an evening meal together. I was overjoyed: at last, I was going to ride with some British girls in my team and we could develop together, and behind us we had a team manager who had fully engaged in the plan.

Around that time, I read in a cycling magazine an interview conducted with one of the U23 men, saying how little he had to do apart from ride his bike, based out of the house in Italy. I could only contrast that with the hours I spent talking with and meeting potential sponsors and talking to the press. My presence, or Dad representing me, were intrinsic to negotiations, whether we liked it or not. If I was to win a World or Olympic title, I needed to have the support of a good British team, and if the system wouldn’t support me, then I needed to work to put something in place. Doing all this was difficult, but it was about to get a whole lot worse.

Over that winter, going out on the bike was the easiest thing I was involved in. I trained harder than ever before. The gym had now become important to strengthen the stabilising muscles around my knee, as I wanted to overcome the knee injuries that had blighted 2004 and 2005 and threatened to ruin the 2006 season. I also incorporated weight training to build up sprinting power, as Marianne and Trixi had beaten me in the sprint in Salzburg and I had to raise my game. In January, I travelled to Melbourne, met up with Craig and prepared to start the defence of the World Cup. I threw myself into endurance rides, building up the volume to new levels, and continued with my programme of gym sessions. I also rode a few local criteriums to test myself and felt stronger than ever before on a bike.

The team members had all arrived by the end of January in our new team house, near the beachside suburb of Brighton. Thomas was more than living up to his part of the arrangement, by agreeing to manage the Great Britain National Team for the Geelong Tour and World Cup. This allowed Tanja, Anneliese, and Emma Pooley, who had self-funded her winter training in Perth but was still without a team, to get a ride in these top-class events, when team number restrictions would otherwise have precluded them. We crammed a dozen riders and support staff into the four-bedroom house, some of us sleeping on mattresses on the floor, with Thomas on the couch. The human crush served as a bonding agent, as we all pitched in to play our part with rotations of cooking, shopping and chores.

Of the promised British Cycling team manager, there was no evidence. Thomas was now running two teams, Raleigh and GB, by himself, so he hired two local Australians to act as a masseur and mechanic. However, there was so much to be done for the two teams that the masseur hardly had any time to massage anyone, but we got by wonderfully. The GB track team were also in Australia, hotel-based with a full support staff. I doubt that Shane Sutton would have settled for sleeping on a couch like Thomas did.

Unlike the previous three seasons, when my winter had been wrecked by injury, I was primed for the opening events at the end of February and wanted to send out a clear message that, despite the bronze medal in Salzburg, I was the World No.1 rider. However, I had a major challenge. The T-Mobile squad of multi-millionaire Bob Stapleton was immune from the financial strictures present everywhere else in women’s cycling. Stapleton was doing exactly what he had set out to do and more signings made his squad the dominant force for 2007, by some clear margin. One of his new signings was my great rival Oenone Wood.

The Geelong Tour had been a prestigious feature of the women’s pro circuit for many years. It attracted a field of around 130 riders. Unfortunately, the last edition took place in 2008. In 2009 it was converted to a men’s five-day stage race. At the end of the first day of racing, I had the leader’s jersey after finishing third in the time-trial and third again in the criterium. Day 2 had a wonderful climb up Mount Wallace through the You Yangs, which, while a lovely location for an attack, was way too far from the finish to go alone. I showed my relative strength and then I let the bunch catch me and finished in the leading group to retain my lead. On the final day, the overall victory was far from secure, with time bonuses available at intermediate sprints. The whole Raleigh team rode with cool composure to contain some aggressive racing from T-Mobile, Colavita and the German national team, all of whom had riders within a handful of seconds who could win. Several times, T-Mobile attempted to smash the race apart and put one of their riders into a race-winning break. Quoting the Australian report for Cyclingnews.com:

 

Twenty-three year-old Welsh cyclist Nicole Cooke made history today, becoming the first non-Australian to win the UCI women’s season-opening Geelong Women’s Tour as the race reached a dramatic climax at Barwon Heads on the Victorian coast.

It was a smashing effort from the Brit, who, despite being under siege on a number of fronts, showed pure class to stave off a series of determined attacks from the magenta train of T-Mobile, not to mention fighting for every available second in the intermediate sprints.

T-Mobile rider Alexis Rhodes was quoted: ‘Today we were trying to go for the overall and we got on the front and did a bit of a team time-trial and managed to shell most of the bunch . . . The girls were awesome but we couldn’t shake Nicole [Cooke], she’s a class rider.’

Certainly I was very proud of the result, and spirits in our team, along with the GB national team managed by Thomas, were very high.

Although the Geelong Tour had been an important season opener, the real target was the Geelong World Cup race two days later. It usually ended in a bunch sprint, and last year’s winner, Ina-Yoko Teutenberg, who had just won two of the stages in the Tour of Geelong, was in great form and part of T-Mobile, who were described by the press as ‘holding the aces for the Geelong Tour and the World Cup’ and having ‘one of the most impressive team rosters ever to be assembled in the sport of professional women’s cycling’. They had three of the world’s top ten ranked riders, with Judith Arndt, Ina-Yoko Teutenberg and Oenone Wood, supported by Danish champion Linda Villumsen and Australian champions Alexis Rhodes and Katherine Bates. Their attempt to lure me into personally marking them, and wearing me down, had not succeeded on the last stage in the Tour of Geelong, but with the best sprinter in the race and on a course so suited to a sprint finish, they had the advantage.

Thomas and I were fully aware of T-Mobile’s relative strength and we executed a perfect counter, a break in which we placed Sarah Düster, forcing T-Mobile to chase. Judith, Katherine Bates and Alexis Rhodes made a ferocious pace to close the gap, so that we caught the break at the start of the last lap, with about 14km to go.

My moment had finally come. I attacked on the main climb with 7km remaining and Oenone marked me. I kept on attacking all the way up the climb and forced a break with Oenone and another Australian, Nikki Egyed. Initially, we all committed to working while the bunch was regrouping and organising a chase, but soon Oenone eased. Thomas was yelling into my race radio to keep on going. I was totally committed to the break, but even if we held off the bunch, how would I deal with Oenone? With her team-mate Ina-Yoko in the bunch, Oenone could sit behind me and save herself for the sprint, not worrying if we were caught because then Ina-Yoko would be fresh and do the sprint for T-Mobile. While Nikki and I had to keep going, Oenone prepared for the sprint.

The peloton was closing on us fast as we turned on to the Geelong waterfront and headed into the last kilometre. We couldn’t ease up, it was going to be a fast sprint. Nikki jumped first, Oenone and I were on to her straightaway and I kicked again, taking the lead and holding it to the line. The bunch was led home by Ina-Yoko just a few seconds later.

This is one of the victories I take most pleasure in. When the Welsh Joint Examination Council asked me for a picture to go on the cover of their new PE textbook, I chose the photo of me crossing the line with the pack looming behind us. It shows the dynamic of the race, the joy of winning, but also the dirt and grime visible on our legs, jerseys and faces after the downpour earlier in the race. Afterwards, Katherine Bates was quoted as saying: ‘I think we got beaten today because Nicole Cooke’s just better. We rode really well as a team and we’re really pleased with what we did, we just have to figure out a new strategy to knock Cookie off her perch.’

While I knew this was just the start of a challenging season, I had no idea the true challenge was going to come from events off the bike. In early February, Tanja, Anneliese and I were so alarmed with the lack of commitment from British Cycling that we wrote to Dave Brailsford to ask what had been done about providing the manager to support the team. We were informed we were not going to be supported by the member of staff who was initially provisioned at that December meeting, because he was going to work full time with the three U23 girls who had gone to the Junior World Championships the year before, the first time British Cycling had sent any girls since 2001. This would not have been a problem if there was someone else, but there wasn’t. We were told: ‘Leave it with us.’

That a manager at British Cycling was needed was evidenced a few days later when Tanja, Anneliese and I received an instruction from the BC WCPP that demanded we attend an ‘all rider’ conference in Manchester. Nobody had consulted the calendar to discover we were on the other side of the planet, about to race in the Geelong Tour. Our race calendar obviously didn’t come up on anybody’s radar. I was the No.1 rider in the world, and two other British riders were on the squad of the No.1 team in the world, and an integral place in the management was being held open for a member of staff from British Cycling. Where was the problem? Marginal gains were not in much evidence from where Tanja, Anneliese and I viewed things. Knowing that we were a lesser priority than the U23 girls was not a comforting thought. In Australia, Thomas had done what he had to and filled the gaps by spending money he did not have, hiring in local staff.

In Australia, we were there to do a job and the squeeze in the house and hectic nature of what we were doing carried us along. How would we shape up once back at base? Well, on the bike at races we carried our good results forward. We headed to Italy for the GP Costa Etrusca, two separate races on successive days. In my jet-lagged brain, I didn’t make the connection between the heat of Australia and the still thawing European winter and began the first race in light clothing. It began raining as we started and then snowed. I went back to the team car to get more clothing, then had to stop at the side of the road to do the zip up on the thermal jersey because my fingers couldn’t feel anything. I chased back to the bunch and finished fifth, barely able to ride because I was shaking so much from the cold.

On Day 2, I made sure I was properly clothed and was in the leading group of nine riders that had formed on one of the climbs. Fabiana Luperini attacked, joined by another rider. I’d missed the move, but then made a probing move and when no one followed, I drove hard up the climb to the finish, chasing to join the leaders. As I caught them, I attacked straight past them, continuing alone to victory. I added the Trofeo Alfredo Binda the following week, again attacking on the last climb and winning alone.

Back in Lugano, I began to meet other cyclists. One was Mauro Giacomazzi, who lived across the Italian border. Mauro competed in Gran Fondo events, where riders complete long and difficult courses, and he made the perfect training partner for me, being one of the few who enjoyed tackling the climbs I sought as a necessary part of my training.

The Tour of Flanders was my next target, the most significant race outside the Olympics and the World Championships that I hadn’t won, and it would also be my first meeting with Marianne Vos since the World Championships the previous September. With 9km of cobblestones and ten climbs in its 122km, it was a classic all-round test. The action started on the first climb, the Molenberg, after 41km when Marianne blasted up the cobbled hill and we pulled her back. Over the top of the Valkenberg climb, with 40km to go, Karin Thürig attacked for us, as per the team plan developed by Thomas. She got away alone and went into time-trial mode and steadily built up a lead over the next two bergs. Our first move had worked. When Karin’s lead reached 50 seconds, T-Mobile put Oenone Wood on the front of the bunch to bring the gap down. My team-mates and I watched. At 20km to go, the famous cobbled Muur Kapelmuur in Geraardsbergen was a decisive part of the race and with Karin still 45 seconds in front, I attacked at the start of the climb. I got a small gap, and kept on going. The plan was for me to drop the bunch and jump up to Karin. The pair of us would then time-trial to the finish.

The crowd roared and the noise was deafening. Fans had pressed in on the road and I had to ride between people lining either side of the hill. I caught Karin just before the steep section near the top, encouraging her to keep going. I needed her! Alone, we would both be caught easily. I waited for her, freewheeling and shouting encouragement. Over the top we raced on together. Could we hold off the chasers behind? Looking behind, we could see that a group of four were chasing, with the main group in sight behind them all lined out. This was going to be some team pursuit, two v four v a large chasing group! As we approached the Bosberg, with 11km to go, Karin told me to go on alone. She would be more help to me now by easing up momentarily and slotting into the chasing group behind rather than staying with me, as she would not be able to keep up with me on this last hill. By the top, I held a 20-second advantage over the chasing group of Marianne Vos, Trixi Worrack, Susanne Ljungskog and Zulfiya Zabirova with Karin sitting in last spot, watching and recovering from her 30km in the lead. They would have to take her as a passenger.

With about 6km left, I was caught but Karin knew exactly what to do, and having rested, she immediately launched a hard attack. Zulfiya sprinted to cover it. Assisted by Marianne and followed by Susanne, they closed. I slotted into the slipstream and planned my next move. As they caught Karin and we reformed, Karin and I glanced at each other; we did not need to speak. Karin attacked again, and was again covered by Zulfiya. Perhaps Zulfiya could see that if she got away with Karin, I would not chase and it may be her best shot at victory. She certainly wanted to win.

Whenever we glanced behind we could see the large group not far behind still actively chasing us. If we eased too much, we would be caught. This race was still a long way from being decided. Karin didn’t give up, she went again with 2.5km to go. This time, there was a lull as everyone looked at each other. Zulfiya was not going to chase for a third time, she played poker. Marianne cracked and sprinted after Karin, with Susanne and Trixi in tow; I followed with Zulfiya in last spot. Just inside the 2km banner, as we reformed on the left of the road, approaching a section where a central reservation divided the carriageway, out of the right corner of my eye, I spotted movement from behind. Zulfiya had attacked down the right, I dived across to get after her, aware that the others were about to be trapped on the left of the central reservation. I sprinted straight past Zulfiya to take the lead and draw her away with me; she needed to know I was happy to go with her to the finish. Here was our chance. None of the other three could switch into our slipstream. We both knew this and we both totally committed to this break. Inside the last kilometre, I checked behind and could see that Marianne was chasing us, now alone. We could not ease up. Zulfiya jumped early, but I was on her immediately, I waited for the right moment and then kicked hard for victory. A win in the Tour of Flanders is the dream of all classic road riders and one that I will treasure forever.

Karin had ridden a fantastic race. We had a basic plan but a lot of the tactics had to be worked out on the spot and Karin was great. Everything played a part in this race, including tactical cunning, the equipment for the cobbles, teamwork and physical strength. Karin and I both played to our different and complementary strengths. We could only do it together as part of a team. We celebrated together, right then, Karin and I; we were on top of the world.

Dad had been on the course watching the race develop and filming it. He was worried about Marianne Vos. ‘She was very angry at being beaten, and that anger is going to burn. She’s going to come back hard after you.’ Closer to home, there were other concerns. Thomas was burning the candle at both ends and the middle attempting to keep the show on the road. He was clearly more than living up to his part of the agreement thrashed out in December, but it was not fair. Priska had sacrificed her own position as leader on the team because of me, and right now, I was British and British Cycling was placing her whole project in jeopardy. On the way back to Switzerland, body language indicated that our success was not universally appreciated within the team.

Dad was right about Marianne, and I wouldn’t have to wait long to get a sense of her determination. The next World Cup was the Ronde van Drenthe, in the Netherlands, Marianne’s home territory, and we were so busy watching each other that we both lost sight of the bigger race with Marianne finishing third and me seventh.

The off-the-bike strains now produced real cracks in the team as Thomas continued to wait on British Cycling. Back from a very different time in Australia was Shane Sutton, who paid the team a visit for a day on a fact-finding mission for Dave Brailsford. In our different ways, both Thomas and I were left demoralised and disappointed after his visit, with little hope of the support Dave had committed to in late December arriving. Had Thomas known that no one was ever going to show up, he could have made other plans. As it was he tried to do too much himself and as a consequence corners were cut. Thomas and I had worked well together as coach and rider, but right now he no longer had enough time to coach me effectively. Bikes were not being prepared properly and communication deteriorated. I definitely felt my form was dipping a little, but first I had to get through the next round of the World Cup.

The Flèche Wallonne and its steep finish had become my fortress; I had won here three times and was determined to make it four as the race reached its predictable finale at the base of the Mur de Huy. I attacked midway up the climb, confident about taking the race on. Marianne stuck with me. No problem, I was riding flat out, but I also knew how to dig very deep. We got through the hairpin corners and Marianne was still with me, so I upped my pace, giving everything and hoping to break her, but still she was there. With the line in sight, we were shoulder to shoulder and then Marianne went. In about four pedal strokes she opened a gap and I could only watch as she pulled away. My reign on the Mur had come to an end.

The trip back to Switzerland from Belgium that night was uncomfortable and poorly planned; I was in the back of the car wrestling with my demons, while Priska, who had now recovered her sense of humour, cracked jokes from the front seat. I tried to ignore her. When we got back to our team headquarters, I was told that I would have to get back in the car the next day with Andy Walser and drive back up to Büttgen in Germany, to do time-trial bike testing. I couldn’t believe it: two enormous car journeys, straight after a demanding race when rest should have been my only priority, all to put me back within a few kilometres of where I had been the day before! I was livid.

The conversation driving to Büttgen was also disturbing, Andy was pondering about the number of women on tour who had found form suddenly. He had worked with male professional teams and it was clear he believed that some were doping, that it was systematic and that team managers and perhaps medical facilities were implicit in the cover-up. ‘I don’t think you understand how many people are involved in doping. Be careful,’ warned Andy.

It was not as though he was telling me anything I didn’t know, though Andy was as much at a loss as to what to do as I was. Dad had taken my observations to the head of UK Anti-Doping and had come back totally demoralised. Both he and I had continued to press after the positive tests from the Athens Olympics produced no outcome. However, for me at that precise moment, I considered it was the wrong time to be putting in time and effort when my resources were needed elsewhere. Having quashed T-Mobile, and thinking my problems were over, my focus was on what I could do to beat someone who had just borrowed my crown in my backyard. It was hard to get Marianne out of my head as I returned to Switzerland, hoping that a much-needed rest and a few weeks of solid training would sort me out.

It was now the end of April. While we were at the Flèche, Thomas was paying for Tanja, Annaliese and a hired-in manager to go as a second team to a race in Italy. Just like my two-way car journey, this trip proved a logistical disaster for them, with a long journey resulting in no race. Thomas was clearly attempting to fill the holes created by the lack of an understudy from British Cycling. Not only was he spending money to little avail, but reimbursement from British Cycling was not arriving, and while they asked him to provide lots of documentation to justify the expense, he simply wanted a pair of hands on the ground to help him.

Thomas took on a Swiss junior national coach to help out part-time at the team and requested that he be funded by British Cycling, as they had not fulfilled their part of the deal thrashed out in December. Now, looking at the correspondence, I read that Dad was urging Dave Brailsford and Thomas to communicate with each other and for Dave to at least send out a member of staff to see us at a race and gain a measure of what logistical pressures the team was under. Dan Hunt came out for one visit and Shane Sutton made another trip that had a similar effect to the previous one.

Matters came to a head in early May. Various things provisionally planned for the GB girls were not happening. Dan had spoken to Thomas, who was raging, complaining about lack of money for expenses he’d incurred but mainly that there was no manager. One further bone of contention was a training camp proposed for the British girls for mid-May. With no British coach around, Thomas agreed to facilitate it and presented a project proposal to BC. Eventually, approval was forthcoming from British Cycling for the camp, but approval was way too late for the plan to be executed.

This was the final straw; Thomas was finished with British Cycling. He was running his own show and I and the rest of the British girls could take part or walk away. Anneliese packed up and went home, never to race again. Tanja persisted. She would win a stage of the women’s Tour, but by the end of the season the racing was all over for her. She did one winter camp and then left the sport forever. Both Tanja and Anneliese gave the project everything. Looking back, the fact we were so concerned in February about the lack of commitment from British Cycling that we decided to write a collective letter to Dave Brailsford, and the nature of the response, really did only point to one outcome. Undoubtedly, marginal gains only applied to those they wanted it to apply to, and that they didn’t even know which half of the planet we were in, said it all. That we didn’t count was obvious. British Cycling was prioritising virtually everything, including the U23 girls, above the road women. After our stellar start to the season in Australia and the early races in Europe, I wondered if our independent ‘candle’ was burning too brightly. The fact was that Thomas, Anneliese, Tanja and I, along with Raleigh, Del, Heather Bird and Michael Jankowski, could not have been giving it a better shot.

What could I do? I was committed to the Raleigh team and so were the sponsors. My best efforts and plans to create a solid foundation for British riders and British staff to work together towards Beijing had been ruined. I would just have to get on with it. I had every sympathy with Thomas, but in the eyes of both Priska and himself I was now the embodiment of British Cycling, who they viewed as the cause of their current difficulties. He was trying to run a team and develop his commercial affairs with Cervelo at the same time. He was ambitious and competent, but as a consequence he was now trying to do too much. At the same time, he lost the services of Andy Walser, which now stretched logistical support beyond breaking point. Another casualty of this situation was the coaching sessions I had with Thomas. One time, without prior notice, Thomas was unable to make a motor-paced training session, then at another my bike was wrongly equipped. Reluctantly, I decided to ask Thomas to step down as my personal coach.

On 16 May, I flew into Birmingham airport and had a meeting with Dave Brailsford, Shane Sutton, Dan Hunt, Steve Peters and Dad. I am sure there was a box on a Lottery spend authorisation form headed ‘Project Cooke’ that needed to have a tick in it. We spoke about dieticians and equipment provision and lots of pointless trivia, but the real issue was the lack of a British women’s team manager. Dave Brailsford announced that he was going to apply himself to this.

Towards the end of May, I was asked if I would work with Julian Winn. Five months into the ‘job search’, this was the only name Dave Brailsford had come up with. So now, after it had all fallen apart at the team, I was asked to work with the person who had presided over the ‘preparation’ of the Welsh team for the 2006 Commonwealth Games. I am very proud of the way I conducted myself. I set aside all my past differences, did not focus on what the motives were for such a suggestion, accepted the proposal and just looked ahead.

Julian’s role was to coordinate and support the activities of Tanja, Emma Pooley, myself and those on the periphery, such as Rachel Heal, now in America, Catherine Hare, and the girls at Helen and Stefan Wyman’s Global team. This person would also have to liaise with the manager who was working full-time with the U23 girls. I was never going to be best friends with Julian, but I did believe that he would be competent in this role and would not make the same mistakes he had made previously. Certainly, he had a first-hand understanding of the pressures of being a rider expected to deliver, and I’m sure he had felt under pressure at Melbourne in 2006. I agreed without any reservations. He worked effectively and was committed to the programme and myself. He did what was asked of him, without needing to be asked again or needing constant reassurance. At this time, seeking to replace the loss of Anneliese, I was also aware of the problems Emma was still encountering. Dad pressed British Cycling to speak with Emma and support her at the Specialized team. This was one suggestion they did take up and complete successfully.

A short block of racing followed – fourth at the Magali Pache TT, fourth at the World Cup race in Bern and then fifth in a sprint at the Montreal GP with Marianne Vos taking fourth, so by the end of May I was still leading the World Cup but Marianne was slowly closing the gap.

The women’s Tour de France was held in the middle of June, and once again looked set to be a great race for our team with Karin, Priska, Tanja, Pascale and new addition to the team this year, Caroline Steffen. The race was a shadow of its former glory, as each hammer blow of drug abuse on the men’s scene drove sponsorship away from women’s cycling. As a consequence, it no longer attracted all the great names from the sport as it used to. Nevertheless, it was a prestigious race and the last stage, with climbs up the Tourmalet and Col d’Aspin, would be a classic to any aficionado. That huge Pyrenean stage effectively ruled out Karin going for the overall, and at early season calendar meetings it was pencilled in as a chance for me to repeat the win of the year before.

Due to his business commitments, Thomas did not come with us. With four stages to go, Priska was in yellow, because I had gifted her the stage after the two of us broke away.

‘I’ve got the yellow jersey, Nicole. Are you going to let me win this race?’

I was puzzled. ‘The only reason you’ve got the jersey is because I gifted it to you, not because you’re the better rider. I’ve had the Tour marked down all season. We all know that.’

The next stage was an individual time-trial. Karin would win but would lose so much time in the mountains that she would not take the GC. Priska wanted me to ride easily in the time-trial so that she could have an advantage to carry into the mountains and take the overall win. It was a pan-flat 20km, rectangular course with straight roads and four corners. Exactly the sort of course that suited me least. It was undoubtedly the best time-trial I ever rode in my life. I won, beating Karin by six seconds, Priska was at 47 seconds with Emma Pooley at 2 minutes 2 seconds, just four seconds clear of Tanja. I was now leading the GC and in yellow. The next morning, Priska made another plea, insisting that Thomas, who was back in Switzerland, had told her that she could win, even though he’d told me that I could go for the win. Since the team meeting the previous day, I had been calling Thomas to get the situation clarified, but hadn’t received any response, which only frustrated things further.

The penultimate stage settled nothing as Priska and I watched each other in the bunch, so I still held a 37-second advantage going into the last stage which would be raced over the Tourmalet and Col d’Aspin before descending to the finish in Arreau. Buoyed by my time-trial win, I was fairly confident I would be the strongest rider and could control the race by marking Priska, who clearly wasn’t going to back off. But all this trouble within the team was putting my mind into a whirl and I was clearly not thinking properly.

On the early slopes of the Col du Tourmalet, Emma Pooley made an attack and I followed. The two of us built up a nice lead, which seemed to solve my problem with Priska. I stuck with Emma, a fantastic climber who wanted to win the iconic stage of the Tour. But something was wrong. I started to suffer badly and I shifted down the gears, easing off, while Emma rode away from me. Had I managed my eating and drinking properly early on in the stage? Why was I so weak now? I needed to eat some energy bars and recover, otherwise this could turn into a disaster. The time gaps to the group behind containing Priska showed they were closing on me, and with about 5km to the summit I thought it best just to ride easy until the group caught me and then continue with them. It meant Priska would be in a position to attack me, but I didn’t have much choice.

The group caught me and I slotted in with them but was immediately struggling to stay with them. I had nothing in my legs and slid out the back of the group. Priska needed no invitation. She was riding away and in to the virtual yellow jersey. I could see the summit, I could just see Emma, now minutes up the road, and I could see Priska’s group in front of me. I put everything in to the next kilometres, desperately going as fast as possible and yet pedal stroke by pedal stroke losing more and more time. At the summit, I was about four minutes behind Emma and two minutes behind Priska. I had not conducted a recce of the course and I had never been over these Pyrenean climbs.

I sprinted down this unknown descent, my Tour de France lost unless I could catch Priska. I took the first corner at full speed, and realised, way too late, that this was a tight corner and the road kept on turning to the left. There were no barriers and I wobbled on and off the edge of the tarmac with one foot out of the pedal, trying to keep my weight towards the road. The road straightened and I was still on the road! I clipped my foot in and sprinted off. No time to dwell, I was still in this race. Three years later, a man came up to me at the GP Plouay and began telling me how he watched my descent that day from an official’s car travelling right behind me: ‘Oh, that corner!’ he wailed, putting his head in his hands. ‘I don’t know how you managed to stay on, and then you descended, you descended like a cannon ball!’

I took risks and never eased up; how would I live with myself if I threw away the Tour de France on the last day? Halfway down the descent, I caught up the group that had been with Priska, but I could see she was not there. Priska was clearly descending as fast as she could, as well. They could follow me or continue descending at their best speed, but I had a rider I needed to catch. No one decided to stay with me.

Near the bottom of the descent, I spotted a race motorbike and rider ahead. I was closing very fast. This would be Priska.

No! It was Emma. Priska was now first on the road and first in the race. Some thinking was needed. I had been dropped by Emma and passed by Priska and a group of other riders. Priska was leading, with the final mountain ahead, up to 1489m at the top of the Col d’Aspin, followed by a descent to Arreau. I eased up as I passed Emma and encouraged her to get on my wheel. Emma was still hunting for the stage win and if Emma helped me catch Priska, I would certainly like to see Emma win the stage. I took nice easy lines through the corners, started braking early, leading the way for Emma, keeping her with me.

As soon as we finished the descent and headed towards the Col d’Aspin, we worked together to try to catch Priska. Emma did most of the pace-setting on the climb as I was still not feeling great. We now had some time checks, we climbed steadily, and the times came down. Now Priska was only 30 seconds ahead; we could see her. We caught Priska on the climb. If looks could kill, I would have been dead on the spot. Our trio, led by Emma and with Priska and me marking each other, crested the Col d’Aspin and began the descent towards the finish, but hostilities were not ended. Priska set as fast a pace as she could, and as much as I wanted to help Emma, I had to match Priska, so Emma was dropped. Priska sprinted for the finish and stage win, I just eased up and crossed the line with my hands raised in relief, happy to have salvaged my Tour from an almost impossible situation, hoping that by not taking the stage win, it might be an element in later rapprochement. I was very grateful indeed to Emma for helping me catch Priska; without her I doubt that I could have done it and I would not have won the race.

It was the end of June and I headed back to the UK for the British National Championships. Although to the press all was well, I was beginning to feel very uneasy and quite down. It was hard to concentrate on anything. I had replaced Thomas on the coaching side with Gordon Wright and Dad, but they were both UK based, and looking back it is easy to see that despite the very best will by all of us, it was never going to be effective. The British Championships were postponed due to flooding caused by the heavy rains of that summer. Then, on recovering after the women’s Tour, my knee began hurting when I resumed training. I went to Bath to work with Dr Rod Jaques on building up my knee. The prognosis was that with rest and care, I should be fine.

As July turned to August, I had to steel myself for the Open de Suède World Cup when I would have to face Marianne Vos again, something I would relish if I was injury-free but that I dreaded in my current physical condition. Again, Marianne and I marked each other out but she was 10th and I was 12th, so while the points damage was minimal, and my overall lead intact, the cumulative impact of being beaten by her was wearing me down – a nightmarish Groundhog Day in which I was not going into races to win anymore. I had never raced like this before.

Early August, an event planned the previous December, organised by British Cycling, did take place. Julian ran a four-day GB training camp in Quarrata, Italy where British Cycling had based the men’s U23 academy. For four days, we had access to the motor-pacing scooters and all the facilities the Lottery had provided for the men. Present were Emma Pooley, Tanja Slater and Rachel Heal, along with Nikki Harris and Lizzie Armitstead from the U23 girls’ squad. The coaching team supporting the men, Rod Ellingworth, Dan Hunt and Max Sciandri, showed an occasional interest in the temporary visitors. The camp was good, giving a fleeting taste of what could have been. Julian supported all my requests for the types of training I wanted the team to do. We spent our time there as an initial bonding session, training, doing leadouts and talking about the 2007 World Championships and the Olympic Games, now just 12 months away.

I probably shouldn’t have raced at the rescheduled British Championships. I knew I was risking aggravating my injured knee, which had got worse in the past two weeks. It was a flattish course in Essex, the rain was torrential and my knee started to ache after just an hour, but I gritted my teeth. I attacked on the last climb, more of a drag than a hill, and got a small gap and went on to win alone. It was my eighth victory, the last seven in a row. Girls from the training camp filled five of the first seven places in the race. We were beginning to build a solid group as the World Championships started to dominate our thinking.

After the British Championships, my knee was so bad I decided to head to the doctors and get treatment before making a decision about my next races. I spoke with Julian and explained the situation with my knee. He was highly supportive, with his true athlete’s perspective shining through. A few days later, I travelled to Germany for the Albstadt Frauen-Etappenrennen which I rode with Raleigh, while the other British girls rode as the British Team. I performed terribly in the first-day prologue. I rode with tactical skill and willpower to win the second stage but was almost non-existent in the racing on the last day. The GB riders then travelled to Stuttgart to recce the course for that year’s World Championships. It was my kind of course, complete with an uphill sprint finish – if I could return to anywhere near full fitness, I felt this one could be mine.

However, before then, the World Cup needed to come to a conclusion and I wanted to be the first person on the planet to win three. I was not going to give up. The penultimate round was in Plouay, I would need to draw on every scrap of experience to try to reverse the losses to Marianne. None of my rivals knew about my knee problems, which I’d kept very quiet. I spent the first part of the race riding cautiously, and then on the last lap I attacked with 18km to go. I was joined by three others, including Oenone, while Marianne was in the peloton behind. Italian Noemi Cantele got away from us on the last climb. I put everything into beating Oenone in the sprint for second place, while Marianne was back in seventh.

I had an 80-point lead with only one race to go, the GP Nuremburg. In other years, I would have been the champion already, but this season the UCI declared there would be double points in the last race of the women’s World Cup. So instead of 75 points for the win, it was 150 for this one race, so I could still be beaten if Marianne won or got second, and I finished outside the top five.

There was a two-week gap to Nuremberg and after more treatment the doctors at Bath concluded I needed another operation to clear more of the plica membrane. They were ready to operate there and then, but I was determined to be there in Nuremberg and do everything I could to win the World Cup.

My gift of the final stage at the Tour was futile. Thomas and I spoke and we knew that I would not be part of any team plans Priska and he had for the following year. For Nuremberg we had a strong team, three riders would finish in the top nine at the World Time-Trial Championships two weeks later and there was any number of ways we could have blocked out Marianne from getting the top two finish she needed to overtake me. A sacrificial break driven to the finish was the easy solution, but Thomas did not see it that way, possibly because he did not want me go to another team as World Cup winner. Besides, we led in the team competition as well and he did want to win that.

Thomas felt we should not let a breakaway go. The race would be contained for a bunch sprint – my individual title sacrificed for the good of the team. I pointed out that if we had riders in a winning break, the team competition would also be won. Thomas was having none of it. I got through the first of ten laps before the pain began. It grew with each of the next nine laps as the breakaways were all quashed. I was near the front but as the pace picked up in the final kilometres the best I could do was 34th. Marianne rode superbly and her team delivered her on the day, winning the race and the World Cup. Of our team that had preserved every ounce of resource for the sprint finish, only Jo Kiesanowski made the top 20. She came eighth which, by pure luck, was enough to make sure Thomas had the team award.

Dispirited, I left the team. I bid a fond farewell to several of my team-mates, with whom I had many happy memories of two years together. They had witnessed at first hand what went on, but they knew the facts of life relating to a women’s professional cycling team, every bit as much as Fany did years before. It would take three years and a court case for me to recover the money owed to me, and in every race thereafter, Priska and Thomas ensured there was one rider they wanted beaten. They also had another plan to extend their impact on my career, which was a cruel twist, but that was another slow burn.

The following day, Mum was with me in Bristol waiting by my bed for me to come out of general anaesthetic after the operation on my knee. She drove me home very carefully and looked after me. I had lost the World Cup in the last race, having led the competition from the start to the last metres of the final finish line. The next year and thereafter, the UCI removed the ‘double points on the last round’ rule.

I watched the World Championships on TV. At long last, there was another GB rider who could finish in the lead group. The GB team comprised Lizzie Armitstead, Catherine Hare, Rachel Heal, Emma Pooley, Tanja Slater and Helen Wyman. Emma was 10th, with Catherine 30th and Rachel 57th; the others did not finish. Two things shone through. Emma had made more progress this year than could be hoped; and at the vital time in the race, the Italians played out their superiority in numbers. Subsequently, the other nations let Marianne and her Dutch colleague Chantal Beltman do the work. No one was going to help the favourite. Welcome to the club, Marianne. Hanka Kumpfernagel won the time-trial with Emma in eighth.

Wendy Houvenaghel – who, earlier in the year, when I was requesting the presence of her undoubted talent and professional attitude, only to be informed by coaching staff that she could not possibly come off her track programme to join in any road activity – was given a berth in the British team. She finished a creditable 25th in the time-trial. I did not even think ‘what might have been’.

The year had started so very brightly, but Marianne was now World No.1. It was ten months to the Olympics. A clock was ticking again, a clock I hadn’t heard for three years. Alone, the year’s events gave me much to think about. I had another yellow T-shirt for the person I held most dear, that little girl with the bike too big for her but with lots of determination, who came back to see me at quiet, critical times. Despite my very best efforts, an awful lot had gone wrong; I had a lot of bad news for her. She squeezed my hand and told me she was proud of me.