My preparation for the 2008 Olympics, while not perfect was now back on track; I was racing and training and had a very good win under my belt. A lot is now noted about the techniques of ‘marginal gains’ used by the British Cycling team and their efficient use of public money to support their riders in the build-up to and completion of competition. British Cycling and Team Sky are very keen to promote the story that it was Chris Froome who exorcised the ghost of Tommy Simpson on Mont Ventoux, riding in yellow past his memorial to win at the summit of that fateful mountain. In 2006, two years before the events I now describe, I had already done it, riding alone at the summit in yellow in that year’s Women’s Tour de France. No doubt there are many individuals who would prefer the efficacy of ‘marginal gains’ and the ‘Froome did it first’ account to hold firm.
Fifteen years after Robert Millar’s heroic defeat, I was on that same mountain, also riding to defeat, my dreams shattered. I was deliberately deserted by British Cycling’s ‘marginal gains’ machine, the system that was cosseting and looking after every whim of its chosen stars. Mum and Dad were there of course, cheering me on every yard, even as I lost my crown, despite all that the childhood friend and her team could do to assist and deny the inevitable. Olympic team-mates were not in evidence. Deadliest of enemies on the road that day were my team-mates the year before.
From early on in the winter, Team Halfords had planned that the women’s Tour de France would be my last major race, apart from the British Nationals, ahead of the Olympics, not least because it had a 40km TT which was similar to the Olympic course and the last two days in the Alps were very demanding. After the team finished the very successful Tour de L’Aude I went back to Lugano to prepare. Five days later, a short email arrived from Julian Winn informing me that the team was now not going to the Tour. I went straight to the decision-maker, Shane Sutton. Apparently Shane had decided that I was not going to race the women’s Tour and Team Halfords was being withdrawn. He did not consult me before changing the team plan on something I viewed as vital to my preparation. He simply didn’t seem to care about what I thought
Shane suggested I join Julian, Emma and Sharon, who were now going to do some club races at Abergavenny, where perhaps I could ride an evening club time-trial. While I had been recovering from surgery and had no form, he had not appeared interested in what I raced. But now, when I had form and might win the women’s Tour for a third time, was the time he decided to take an interest. I had won the two previous editions and had a yellow jersey to defend. I protested the decision. The management were men, the cycling reporters were men who wrote about men. I was a girl. I could scream, but the scream would not be heard. The management could ignore me and they knew nobody would know.
If Team Halfords, launched to the public to prove that the BC WCPP were fully committed to the best GB road cyclist, weren’t going to the Tour, I knew some long-time friends I could rely on who were. I joined up with Helen and Stefan Wyman’s Swift Racing team who had gathered around them a close-knit group, her brother Greg and long-term unpaid stalwart of cycling Martin Eadon, for Pierre Boué’s 2008 edition of the women’s Tour de France. The race, shorter than in previous years, was on life support, with just one more edition left before it became a silent victim of the drug-taking liars, too self-centred to contemplate the carnage they inflicted on others.
However, the race still included classic stages. Stage 1 started in Ghent, Belgium and raced over the Hoogberg and Kruisberg to Wattrelos. Stage 2 included the famous cobbled section from the Paris-Roubaix race, Arenberg Forest. Here, I finished second in the bunch sprint. In Stage 3, I finished second again in the sprint. The next day, we raced in torrential rain and the bunch was all together to contest the finish. I crashed as we went round the last corner with 800m to go. I remounted and finished, then surveyed the damage – just cuts and bruises. We all quickly got changed, put our soaking racing kit and shoes in black bags and tried to get some warmth back into ourselves. The race was moving 450km south to the Alps. As we drove there, I had an ice pack pressed on my hip all the way. When we got up the next morning, our soigneur Martin Eadon had been up all night and had cleaned and dried our shoes and had the kit laid out and all ready for us on the day of the long individual time-trial. I came third to my former team-mates Karin Thürig and Christiane Soeder, riding for Thomas Campana’s Cervelo team.
I was now nearly two minutes down on GC. My Swift Racing team-mates were excellent, doing absolutely everything they could, but they were not capable of an aggressive, attritional battle with Cervelo. The penultimate stage finished with a climb to the ski station of Villard-de-Lans, terrain which could provide opportunities for changes on GC. However, I was unable to reclaim any significant time from the Cervelo duo, as we finished within a few seconds of each other.
Prior to the final stage, we had another long transfer. At midnight, our happy band, cramped together in the camper, peering through the dark, was looking for the first glimpse of our accommodation on a mountainside. We were on the eve of a classic showdown in the most dramatic of settings, with three riders still capable of winning the Tour in a final stage comprising three giant climbs: first the Col d’Izoard at 2,361m, then Montgenèvre at 1,850m, before the final 12km climb to Sestriere, finishing at 2,035m in Italy.
The contrast could not be greater. Over 1,000 miles away the track stars, in their final build-up for the 2008 Olympics, were staying at the five-star Celtic Manor hotel, accompanied by the GB team manager, near the newly constructed Newport Velodrome, a building project that was cancelled until the plans were taken out and dusted off following my success on the world stage. Meanwhile, I was surrounded and supported by genuine friends. They were doing all they could to help me, not because they were paid, but because they wanted to.
I thought the time gap was small enough that I could leave my attacking until the final climb up to Sestriere, hoping that Karin and Christiane would be tired by then, and if I saved my energy for one big attack, I would still have a chance to claim the yellow jersey. On the first climb the field splintered with much aggressive riding. A small group of riders crested the Col d’Izoard together – including Karin, Christiane, myself and Jolanta Polikeviciute. During the descent, both Karin and Christiane were losing ground, so I pushed on, splitting it down to just Jolanta and me. By the bottom of the descent, we had nearly a minute lead. Straightaway, the ascent of the Montgenèvre started and I pushed on, dropping Jolanta. The slope of the climb was benign, not the gradient I needed. Behind Karin and Christiane worked together to haul me back. Jolanta sat behind them to make us a group of four over the summit. I had taken a gamble, spending quite a bit of energy in my early attack, but it had failed. I could only hope the chase had also taken something out of Karin and Christiane.
Jolanta and I descended as fast as we could, taking turns to lead each other, again dropping Karin and Christiane. Jolanta and I started the climb to Sestriere with a 30-second lead over Christiane, who had also dropped Karin. On the early slopes, I dropped Jolanta and made my bid for victory. Instead of pulling away from Christiane, the time checks showed she was steadily closing on me. I tried to dig deeper but was on my limit. I passed Mum, who shouted me on from the side of the road, but behind, Christiane was about to catch me.
Should I ease up to recover and go again, allowing Karin to get back up to us, or keep going, knowing Christiane would just sit on me, and resign myself to go for second place? I kept on going, thinking there was always a chance that Christiane may blow up. I passed Dad, who cheered me on, his video camera recording my impending defeat. I was nearly exhausted. Behind, Karin had caught Jolanta and together they were closing on us. Since Christiane was sitting on me, I was now one against the two of Karin and Jolanta.
With 1km to go, Jolanta and Karin were only 15 seconds behind and then Christiane attacked me. I pushed on to the line, desperate to stay clear of the pair behind. I lost 29 seconds to Christiane, finishing just five seconds ahead of Jolanta and Karin. Christiane won overall by 12 seconds from Karin, I was third, at 2 minutes 29 seconds. I had lost the yellow jersey, but had made Christiane fight for it over every inch of three great cols. Christiane had ridden a superb race and deserved the jersey. To Helen, Stef, Martin and the girls, I owed this fantastic group as much as I owed Emma for the victory the year before.
I started the race believing I could make it three in a row and I had been defeated; the winner inside me was bitterly disappointed. But the spirit of how we went about it and how some sincere, long-term friends had so readily come to my aid and done all they could to help me, contrasted with my treatment by the BC WCPP and fired up my passion. In the weeks before Beijing, instead of being downbeat I became more determined. Back in Britain for the National Championships, held in Yorkshire, the race settled into a match between Emma Pooley and myself when we broke away from the bunch with about 20km left. We worked well together. Emma is a very strong rider, but lacks the speed required for the last finishing burst over the final 200m. I won and we came in three minutes ahead of the rest.
The other match race didn’t occur. The previous year, I had a written commitment from Dave Brailsford, agreed by all parties, that Steve Peters was in charge of deciding how the ride-off for the time-trial places was conducted. During the time I was racing in France, I was aware that Emma and Sharon were practising on a course near to where Julian lived and suspected a ride-off being arranged, at minimal notice, on a course with which I was not familiar. I wrote an email to Steve with a copy to Shane and Julian suggesting a far better course that featured a single big hill and single descent similar to what we would face in Beijing – my training run over the Bwlch. Within minutes Shane had responded, stating that he was in charge of selection and that he would choose the course. The response was exactly what I expected. Shane simply walked over previously confirmed arrangements. However, within 24 hours the problem had disappeared. Sharon Laws cracked her tibia during a filming ride being conducted for the BBC. She would be recovered for Beijing, but could not ride a TT selection event.
Later, Shane called a team meeting in Manchester to discuss tactics for the Olympic road race. Once again, I felt that my views were irrelevant. Before I had arrived, Shane, who had not been to a single women’s race all year, had decided that Emma was to look for an opportunity to sneak away to a solo victory. So once we got to the circuit, I was to remain in the bunch, the false decoy for the others to watch. If this did not happen and it was a sprint, I could compete. Sharon was to go with any early break that occurred on the run from Beijing to the circuit. I felt an anger building inside me. I had come all this way without a team and constantly had to take on the might of the cycling world, single-handedly, and had delivered in virtually every race I rode for my country. Now, when there was finally some support on hand, it was being denied and my role relegated to that of a lure. Not only that, but this kind of tactic was doomed to failure. Emma had won continental races and always in the same way, a long solo attack. Her use of this tactic was now known and there was no way the strong teams would simply let Emma ride away to the win the biggest prize in cycling.
My fear was that if we actually went with this scenario, Emma would attack and then be joined by four or five other riders. If the break stayed away, she would not be able to get gold, as her sprint was not good enough. Even if Emma could get away alone on the final climb, there was still a long way to the finish and her chances of staying away from committed chasers would be very slim. My only option would be to piggyback on anyone bridging up to the group. Sharon was as good as she could be. She only wanted to help Emma and me, but was new to this level of road cycling and we needed to have practised as a team much more.
I was enormously frustrated with this plan, and felt that my views were being ignored. The culture within British Cycling was always that the coaches knew best. I could challenge them, and repeatedly did, because I knew that my place on the team was secure. The other girls knew that the gatekeeper to their place on the team was the coach, and you did not need a degree in psychology to work out that an alliance with me was not a ticket to a long-term future on the team. I spoke out against Shane’s plans but I was irrelevant. Great Britain’s first serious Olympic women’s road race team would ride as individuals wearing the same jersey.
I left the meeting and travelled back to Wales. The GB team were due to ride the Ras de Cymru amateur race to practise our ‘team tactics’, but the result was that we rode as three separate individuals throughout. At least it was a good block of intense racing. I spoke with Dad and we watched the video I’d made of my recce in Beijing and discussed the situation. We both agreed that the counter attack would come either towards the top of the climb or somewhere on the descent to the finish, and then the final 700m uphill sprint would be critical.
During the Ras de Cymru it hit me how much support there was for me in Wales. On one stage, we raced through a village where an entire school was lining the road cheering ‘Go Nicole!’ and holding out posters they had made depicting me in Beijing. BBC Wales interviewed the children on TV that night as they expressed their innocent support of me. I felt tears down my cheeks. It’s amazing how inspired that can make you feel. I packed away any negativity and determined that I would just have to race the smartest race I could.
I was on a mission. Firstly, I went to Andy Walser’s house in Tuscany for five days. I was riding around looking for a certain type of hill. After a ride in the morning, I set out in the late afternoon with a can of spray paint in my back pocket and found my ‘Beijing Hill’. I used the speedo on the bike to measure and spray lines at 100m intervals up the hill. Then I got stuck in. I would ride steadily to the bottom of the hill, and then sprint flat out to the finish at the top, from the different distances, 100m, 200m, 300m, 400m, 500m, 600m and 700m. I was leaving nothing to chance. This was going to be the most important 700m of my career.
As I drove back to Switzerland, I saw all the team cars and race vehicles of the Giro d’Italia going the other way on the motorway, and it brought home the risk I was taking by not racing against my competitors there. But it also made me more determined than ever. I believed in my plan and was absolutely focused on the remaining four weeks, balancing hard sessions with recovery days, something that would not be possible for my rivals taking part in a long stage race. Just before getting home to Lugano, I stopped off at another ‘Beijing Hill’ that I had found and got the spray can out again. I matched this with another hill that replicated the ‘long’ hill on the circuit. Over the next three weeks, I followed a fairly standard pattern with Mauro pacing me up the ‘long Beijing Hill’, while in the evenings I did sprints to the ‘finish’ on the ‘short Beijing Hill’. Each Wednesday evening I raced the RB Brugg club criteriums.
One Saturday, Emma caught the train from where she lived in Switzerland and joined me at Lugano to train with me, in particular leading me out. It was a very nice and much appreciated gesture. We did it ourselves, away from any official camp. Maybe we would be there at the real finish together and we chatted and discussed what might happen. Both Emma and Sharon were late converts to cycling, Emma from triathlon and Sharon from mountain biking, and they had great physical attributes but were still developing race awareness. I had been racing practically my whole life and had honed my race instincts over many years. Not for the first time, I reflected that we should have been practising leadouts in real races for the past 15 months: the signals, the shouts, recognising the threats and opportunities, our positioning on the road. The last 800m of an Olympic road race is not the place to try out some new tactics for the first time. None of this was the fault of Emma or Sharon.
My race bike arrived in July and I tested it out on a four-hour Gran Fondo. I felt strong on the climbs, fast on the flat and also kept the intensity up all the way to the finish. I was ready. After crossing the line, I went in search of Mauro to see how he’d got on, as he was always on or near the podium. Mauro had won! We were so delighted together. Mauro had been fantastic and I couldn’t have completed my training in this period without him. His everlasting good humour and warm-heartedness were a great strength throughout. It was a memory I shall never forget, seeing him so happy, taking his first prize at the Gran Fondo. Mauro never wanted great things for himself, so it was wonderful to see his face as he walked up to collect his award.
I was excited that everything seemed to be coming together at the right time. Mum and Dad came to meet me in London and spend the night with me. The next morning, my grandparents Maurice and Hazel arrived, together with Aunt Karen and my cousins Stephanie, Dan and Sean. We had a leisurely breakfast together before Mum and Dad took me to the airport.
After waving goodbye, I felt that I had entered an ‘Olympic Bubble’. There were seven days to go and I wanted everything to go perfectly. The flight to Beijing went quickly and before long we were in the Olympic village. It was very compact, with high-rise apartment blocks and flats on each floor with two rooms, each with two beds. Sharon and Emma shared one flat, having a bedroom each to themselves, and I had the flat opposite, with my bedroom and lounge space which I quickly made to feel homely by laying out my good luck cards. I tried to stay awake as long as possible on the first evening and slept well, adjusting to the new time zone straightaway. I did a light session on the rollers and spent my first full day finding out the locations of the food hall, Team GB offices, medical zone and anything else I might need over the coming days.
Now that I was here, I wanted to get out on the course and test out the real Beijing hill. As it was over 80km away and I was the only GB cyclist who wanted to ride the course, I went with an official driver and interpreter who took me to the finishing circuit where they would wait and watch as I did my training. I did medium- and high-intensity intervals on the long hill and practised different ways of tackling the finishing hill. I knew that the race was going to be decided on that final climb to the line and I wanted to be as prepared as I could be. On the journey back to Beijing, I ran through the details of the course, the gradient, the corners and the changes in road surface, trying to memorise as much of it as possible.
Three days before the race, Sharon, Emma and I went to the official training session on the course. We had not practised a leadout train together for a sprint all season and certainly not attempted one in a race. I asked to practise a sprint. Julian led us out, followed by Sharon, then Emma and finally me. As I powered through the finish line, I felt very strong. It was an immense feeling; it was as if I could push harder and go faster, as if there were no limits. I had got my form spot on: I could win. Then an icy feeling came over me; this was not just a race I could win, but one that was now mine to throw away. I sought out Steve Peters and I told him things were so good that I was now very nervous, and I didn’t know how to deal with the emotion. His advice was simple: I had done all the work so I could relax, I was an instinctive competitor and this would kick in once the race started. I should look after myself, make sure I was ready and enjoy it.
The next two days we did some very gentle rides, barely forcing the pedals round, just to make sure our legs were spinning nicely. I was robotic when it came to food and sleep, aware that I needed the right fuel in my body and my batteries fully charged. I passed the days writing postcards to friends and, when I had finished those, I had a look around what was on offer in the athlete zone of the village. There was a variety of low-stress activities, presumably designed to occupy bored or nervous athletes like me. I passed the time learning to write some words in Chinese. With the cycling road events so early in the programme, the GB cycling team watched the opening ceremony together on television, resting. We marvelled at the choreography and scale of it. Truly we were taking part in the greatest show on earth. It made me feel very humble and very grateful. I thought of those children at the side of the road in Wales so far away, holding their posters, and knew that they would be watching as well.
The men’s road race took place on the Saturday, and the women would race on Sunday. The last lap of the men’s saw the bunch catch a long solo breakaway and then the attacks up the long climb saw a rapid selection in the bunch. The finale was contested by a group of six riders, with Samuel Sanchez of Spain taking the gold. There was no GB rider in that group, nor for that matter in any of the groups. Not one male GB rider finished.
That evening Shane took us through the tactics as he saw them, again. ‘Sharon, cover the moves on the flat . . . Emma, attack on the main climb on the last lap . . . Nicole, be ready for the finish.’ This meeting, led by a coach who had still not seen a single international women’s race all year, was far removed from a proper professional team meeting prior to a critical race, where the talk would be as much about competitors’ likely moves as our own plans. I looked on. For weeks I had been running through many different scenarios in my head weeks, storing away lots of permutations and processing the likely outcomes. The meeting was a different distraction.
The main thing I was telling myself was to save my energy as much as possible. In Athens I had raced well, but rather than be the rider making the attack that splits the race apart, I would follow the moves and save my energy for a big move of my own late in the race. Emma, having recently won the Tour de Bretagne, would be watched and reaction to her bid for glory would be guaranteed.
I was aware that riders were going to rise to the occasion; people will ride out of their skin for the biggest prize in cycling and also take more risks. The field was small, restricted to just 63 riders, with countries limited to three riders maximum. However, in terms of the Olympics, this was the event with the largest number of individual competitors and of the longest duration.
I packed my bag during the day and checked it again in the evening. I had food in the fridge ready for breakfast, which would save me a journey to the food hall, and I was about as ready as I could be. I rang Andy and then rang my parents, touching base for the last time and checking to see if they had picked up on anything new after watching the men’s race. I went to bed, falling asleep soon after; a clock was running but I was not disturbed by its tick. I woke up to grey skies and puddles around the village. We knew it might rain and Andy had prepared my ‘rain wheels’ for this eventuality, to complement the dry wheels he had designed with wheel-builder Haider Knall of Haico. I had breakfast, listened to music then went over to the food hall for my pre-race pasta meal. I was quite happy in my own world, not being distracted by what was happening around me.
At the course, we found our tent and got ready. I had to decide if I wanted my rain wheels or dry wheels. The staff at the finish circuit said it was raining, while at the start it was overcast but not raining. A lot could change in three hours, so I decided to go with my dry weather wheels as they were lightest and I didn’t think the thin tread would cause me any problems. I wanted every advantage I could get.
I looked at my watch; silently, it indicated that it was time. On the start line, I gathered myself and went straight into race mode, all my senses heightened and taking in everything, watching for every little sign of body language from the other riders. The gun fired and we were off. I wanted to be near enough to the front to watch what was going on and stay out of trouble, but at the same time find some shelter behind other riders to avoid tiring myself out too early. Although the course made its way past the historic sights of Beijing, Tiananmen Square and many temples, we were almost unaware. Sightseeing could be left until afterwards. We had 80km to ride until we reached the circuit, and it was not long before it started raining and we were soon soaked from the rain as well as the spray off the wheels around us.
Those who had been expecting sweltering temperatures like the previous day might have been upset. I didn’t care, I didn’t feel it; my mission was to win this race and I was certainly no stranger to riding in the rain. There were a few exploratory attacks on the way to the circuit, but nothing that stayed away. I stayed near the front as we rode out through the big puddles to the circuit. Before the feed zone, I made sure that I was at the front; it was raining and there was a high possibility of a crash. As we started the circuit, Team USA rode hard at the front, causing riders to get dropped from the back. Eventually, they eased, and as they did so my old sparring partner from that first Junior World Championship in Plouay, Natalia Boyarskaya, attacked. Who would respond so far from the finish?
The security was tight for the road race course and the whole of the main climb had no spectators on it, creating an eerie and creepy atmosphere. We could hear each other’s breathing and every gear change, sounds normally drowned out by the crowds. We were on the finishing circuit, so I made a quick resumé of the situation. Were my rivals riding as I expected? Were there any potential threats from riders who don’t ride the European circuit, such as the Chinese? I needed to watch out for any places where there was a sudden change of course due to the positioning of security barriers. It seemed that I was not alone in carrying out an appraisal of the situation, as nobody decided to chase Natalia.
The circuit was 23km, and basically consisted of a long 11km climb followed by a descent on a wide new road, at the bottom of which were toll booths to negotiate followed by the 700m climb to the finish. The feed zone was located just after the finish. Natalia did the whole of the climb by herself and the gap grew, time checks indicating 1:04, then 1:46. Everybody was watching each other as we crested the climb. As a lone rider, Natalia was going to lose time on the descent, as a big group taking turns to provide slipstream to each other would easily move faster on such a wide sweeping road.
On the descent I watched Emma move to the front, preparing for her moment. We were coming down to the toll booths and there were plenty of white lines on the road, which can be treacherous in the wet. Then I heard a crash behind. Unfortunately, Sharon was caught up in it. Watching the video afterwards, it was a bad fall, but true to character, Sharon got back up and chased hard, pursuing the peloton and passing stragglers for the rest of the race. Emma rode to the front and as others took their bottles in the feed zone, she rode away to launch her bid for victory. It was a good move, she now had the whole of the climb to extend her lead before the descent, and she could pick up Natalia ahead and they could work together.
Ahead, Emma tapped out a steady rhythm, pacing herself; she was riding well and the gap opened. Then Tatiana Guderzo of Italy cleverly jumped away from the bunch, taking no one with her. If I jumped up to Tatiana, I could sit on her, but with two Brits up the road the peloton would recognise the danger, combine forces and chase us down and Emma would have fired her best shot to no effect. I had to sit tight. Soon Tatiana, Emma and Natalia joined together and were riding as a trio at the front with still most of the climb to come.
This was now the dangerous situation I had tried to explain at the team briefing. Emma would not be able to win from this group, as Tatiana was the better sprinter and Natalia was probably as strong as Emma. They were good riders, and being only three, they would work together to get a medal each. However, it wouldn’t be gold for GB. Four years earlier at Athens, the team had the specific goal of working to support me, but unfortunately there was no one capable of helping me in the last couple of laps. Four years later in London, the team would be working to support Lizzie Armitstead. Now in Beijing, with a strong team, we had been told not to work for one rider. Sharon had crashed and Emma was up the road in a move that would definitely not bring a gold medal.
However, the peloton saw the danger of the new situation and knew that those three were perfectly capable of staying away. Judith Arndt for Germany responded, so I moved onto her wheel with Trixi Worrack, Judith’s team-mate, following me. I needed to stay in this spot to disrupt the two working together. Trixi then went to the front and this time Tatiana’s Italian team-mate, Noemi Cantele, slotted in behind Trixi, helping disturb the chase. Judith was behind Noemi, with me riding fourth. I was feeling good and ready for the next phase of the race as the Germans powered on the chase. All around I could hear the sound of heavy breathing, as the pace set by Judith was taking its toll. I was puzzled that Judith did not try and jump across on her own, which could only mean she was riding for Trixi today. If Trixi was to be led out by Judith, then she would be a possible wheel to take in the sprint. Judith drove on and made the junction to the breakaway. Emma and I glanced at each other as the break was caught. It was clear that her race was now finished.
The pace had been fast as the Germans chased, but it had at least been steady. Now, everyone left in the front group was back in with a chance, and so there was attack and counter attack which caused constant accelerations that opened gaps in the string of riders. I made sure that I was always near the front; even though many of my efforts would be wasted, I could not afford to have any regret about missing the right move.
Zulfiya Zabirova attacked, countered by Judith with me following. Then Christiane Soeder attacked and Trixi went after her. I immediately reacted – no need to hesitate with those two. Tatiana joined us, but then there was a slight easing from Christiane and we were caught. Zulfiya tried again, and once more Judith was the first to react.
All the time I had to have my eyes everywhere, watching out for an attack but also checking on the response of others. The Swedes, Susanne Ljungskog and Emma Johansson, were near the front but had not made a single move. I remembered Hamilton where Susanne had done nothing all race and then attacked into the last corner. The Australians had already lost Katherine Bates and maybe they were weakened from the earlier chase. I hadn’t seen Marianne Vos at the front; she was obviously riding further down the group, relying on her team-mates to close down any breakaway that looked threatening. There were also other individuals who still hadn’t made a move.
Modesta Vzesniauskaite rode hard on the front, Emma J followed and I followed her. The strange sensation of riding the finale of such an important race without crowds emphasised the sounds of heavy breathing all around me. We were approaching the top of the climb and time was running out for the breakaway specialists.
Tatiana attacked again. She was certainly on a mission today; she had been in the break with Emma and Natalia but was still trying to get away. Emma J jumped around Modesta to chase her. I went with Emma J but saw that Susanne was on my wheel. Emma J pulled over to signal for me to take up the chase, but with Susanne on my wheel it was a move that would have left me open to a counter attack by either one of them. Tatiana was powering on ahead by herself. Then Christiane came from fifth wheel back, with Linda Villumsen of Denmark, so I chased and Emma J followed me. Behind was Modesta, but she was losing contact. We swung right and left onto the motorway and a gap had opened up behind. I shouted to the others that this was our chance. I did a really hard turn on the front to try to increase the gap and make sure the others knew I was committed to this. We soon caught Tatiana and there were five of us, one each from Italy, Sweden, Denmark, Austria and GB. The key missing countries were The Netherlands, Germany, Australia and Switzerland. Judith had been extremely strong earlier on the climb. Was she running out of strength? If Marianne tried to jump across to us, could she still be strong enough in the sprint to the line?
We had gained our initial lead while out of sight of the bunch as we went round the bends, but we would now be easily visible on the wide three-lane road. We couldn’t afford any hesitation, we had to totally commit ourselves and we couldn’t afford a passenger. Fortunately, everyone understood that three medals out of five was much better odds than three out of 20, if caught. Although in theory the numerically superior group behind us could have caught us, they were not able to use their numbers effectively, while we five were fully committed to staying away. I had to look at the video to see exactly what went on behind. Susanne and Noemi are to the fore, often lying in second wheel in the line, particularly Susanne, disrupting the chase with a team-mate in the break ahead. After that, Judith does a huge proportion of the chasing behind. Zulfiya helps and Trixi does a bit, along with one of the French riders. It was road racing at its fascinating best. It was going to be a close-run thing between the riders who had missed out on the move and we who were in the break, but ‘fortune favours the bold’ and we now held the advantage.
Going down the descent flat out demanded total concentration, and I only dared the occasional slightest glance backwards. At least the gap seemed to be remaining constant; we weren’t gaining but neither was the bunch. As we came down towards the toll booths I indulged myself with another glance back to check the gap. It seemed to be about 20 seconds; we were not going to get caught now. This was the part of the circuit where Sharon had gone down on the slippery white lines. I wasn’t going to repeat my Athens error and decided that I would be better off going through this part on my own, away from the others, especially as I was on my dry weather tyres.
I was confident that my absence would not trigger an attack, because anyone going from that far out would just be providing a leadout to the others. As I came round the bend into the finishing straight, I needed to catch the others before they started their sprint. It was going to be a very long sprint for me. I was catching them quickly and took the risk of taking the lead and the inside line around the last bend. There was just enough room for me and it would be shorter than going round the other side of them. I needed to carry my speed to get through that gap before anyone noticed and closed it.
I was through on the right-hand side and was now leading out the sprint. There was still 200m to go; Emma had got on my wheel. My legs were already burning from the effort I had made to get into this position, but I wasn’t going to let the pain stop me. This was the moment I’d been dreaming of since I was 12, fighting it out for the Olympic gold medal. I had taken a risk in leading out so early, but I was ready to push myself to new levels of physical pain to win. Whatever the others had, I would have to match it.
I focused on a point just after the finish line and gave it absolutely everything I had. I sensed that Emma and Tatiana were just behind me, getting ready to sprint past me. With 150m to go, I made an extra effort. I kept going, going, going, my eyes locked on to that point just after the line. They were still behind me, but I was focused on giving everything to get to that line, my own personal battle to get every ounce of energy out of my body as I concentrated on each pedal stroke.
I crossed the line. I looked right and I looked left, double-checking with my eyes what my senses were telling me.
I had won! I was Olympic champion!
I screamed with delight, my hands still clenched on the bars, and I looked down.
‘You did it!’
This moment meant everything to me. My whole body was exploding with emotions: the joy of winning, the burning in my legs, the tingling in my teeth, my rib cage searing with pain and the wonder of a dream coming true. I collapsed off my bike on to the barriers, gasping to get some air into my lungs. After about three breaths, the realisation hit me again that I had done it. I was swept up by the British staff, jumping around and hugging everyone. I looked for Emma and Sharon and gave them a huge embrace.
The rest of the day was a blur of excitement. Soaked but all beaming smiles, Tatiana, Emma Johansson and I lined up for the medal ceremony. A medal at an Olympic Games is a huge feat, whatever the colour, and we were all pleased for each other and enjoying the moment. I was struggling to take everything in: the flash of photographers, the scenery, with the Great Wall of China looming around us, the rain, the colours. It was all perfect. When the medal was hung around my neck, I knew it was for real. I took the medal in my hands and looked at it. It was huge, so shiny, and the detail of the engraving on the front with the Greek goddess of victory was very special. I’d never seen an Olympic medal up close before.
I applauded Emma and Tatiana as they received their medals and then the British national anthem was played. It was emotional, I felt like I was going to burst with happiness. I called Andy and my parents – it sounded like half the village was inside the house. I was then whisked off to the media centre for interviews and found out I had won the first gold medal of Beijing for Team GB, and the 200th in history. I like round numbers, but as far as I was concerned, I had won the only medal that mattered to me. At 10pm we called an end to the interviews and headed back to the village. There was a joyous welcoming party to greet me as I got back to Team GB headquarters, including Dr Rod Jaques who had been treating me and my knees for the last five years. I went back to our apartment block and the whole cycling team had waited up to welcome me back. I felt slightly overwhelmed; it was wonderful to share the moment together with everybody and I hoped that they could fulfil their dreams too and experience the feelings I had.
In the time-trial, Emma Pooley did a great ride to take the silver medal, 24 seconds behind American Kristin Armstrong, and actually was faster than Kristin on the climbing part of the course. Karin Thürig was third at 59 seconds. Although I had improved since the Grande Bouclé and finished 1:20 behind Karin, that was only good enough for 15th place, one place behind Marianne Vos, who incidentally had won the sprint for sixth place in the road race from the chasing group behind us.
Sharon, Emma and I then enjoyed a glass of champagne that night to celebrate our success. Over the next few days, I tried to take in as much as possible of the Olympics. I was fortunate that Clare Dixon, the first girl to follow me to a team in Italy and a fellow rider from the Junior World Championships in 2000, was there covering the games for Channel M. We spent time together sightseeing in Beijing, taking in both the culture and the games.
I had another very important race coming up – the World Championships – which were to be held in Varese, Italy. So I left Beijing and flew back to Lugano to join Andy and start training again. We headed to Tuscany for five days of training including a Gran Fondo. I then travelled to London, arriving at Heathrow to meet the rest of the Olympic team flying in from Beijing, and joined in the post-Olympic celebrations. I was the only gold medallist who had come out of the Games and resumed training, and so I was the only one in London waiting with Gordon Brown, the prime minister, for the team to touch down. My mind flashed back to the last time I was talking to the British prime minister. Nobody ruined my day this time.
There were many highlights for me. Being reunited with Mum, Dad and Craig, all together for the first time in three years, was very special. The ‘Welcome Home’ in Cardiff for the Welsh athletes, where the endless crowds filled the area in front of the Welsh Assembly in Cardiff Bay, was incredible. I was asked to speak to the crowds on behalf of all the athletes and then again, once inside the Assembly, to respond to the first minister of Wales.
Perhaps best of all were the celebrations in Wick, where the village turned into a carnival for the day. We started with an open-top bus tour around the local villages, escorted by well over 100 cyclists from the local cycling clubs. I stood on the top deck, waving and being waved to, while behind me a brass band played. I saw that so many people had made such an effort to decorate their gardens and houses in an Olympic theme to celebrate my achievement. I remembered those children who had stood at the side of the road before I went to Beijing, many of them now dressed in costumes with Olympic motifs, and I was so pleased that I had been able to live up to their hopes and expectations.
Then there were speeches and the national anthem, followed by events for the kids in the park with bike races, climbing frames, water slides and endless activities. The villagers had all donated into a fund and every activity was free for children. The County Council generously provided a marquee, in case it rained. The day ended with the unveiling of a plaque in the village hall that hangs next to the plaque unveiled in 2002 marking my junior world titles. Family, friends and so many who had helped me in the past came from far and wide. In a UK summer notorious for its appalling weather, that one day we were bathed in glorious, warm sunshine, from beginning to end. It was the most perfect occasion.
I returned to Lugano very focused on the World Championships. During my ‘rest’ in Wick, I had still trained every day, for example getting up a 5.30am to do two hours’ training before going to Cardiff for the celebrations that day. I was deadly serious about the World Championships. I met up with Mauro to drive round the course and make a DVD for my British team-mates and myself. The next day, we rode the course and I started to get a feel for the hills and the final kilometres; in fact the close proximity to Lugano meant I had probably never recce’d a course so intensely, riding it two or three times a week. World Championships in Italy are always very special, as there are huge, knowledgeable crowds with fan clubs for the individual riders. The course featured two climbs each lap, and I was sure that it was going to come down to a sprint from a small select group. Neither of the hills was particularly long or steep, so would not by themselves be decisive, but they certainly would allow riders to make attacks.
We had an excellent preparation race planned, the Tour de l’Ardeche. We would be riding as a GB team – Sharon Laws, Emma Pooley, Jess Allen, Catherine Hare, Rachel Heal and myself. I spoke to Julian and advised him that I wanted to practise sprints all through the race and needed the leadouts to perfect them. Julian consulted, and the instruction came back that both Emma and Sharon were to ride for GC and so were not to participate in any sprint training supporting me, but Rachel, Catherine and Jess could. I could not have asked any more of those three girls. We did brilliantly. I took a sprint stage win and we contested many prime sprints. Emma rode splendidly to come second overall.
Our national ranking was now such that GB qualified seven riders for the World Championships, so there was even room for another rider to join us in Varese. The British Cycling coaching staff then decided not to select Catherine or Rachel, who had worked so tirelessly to support me through this Tour. They did select Lizzie Armitstead, which meant we had two vacant places. Despite winning Olympic gold, it seemed that old British Cycling habits would never die. The GB men, who had not finished a single rider at Beijing, were qualified with six berths and took a full complement of riders, including drug cheat David Millar.
There were another couple of unhelpful events leading up to the World Championships. When I finished the Tour de l’Ardeche, the headset on my bike needed replacing. This is basic bicycle maintenance, but apparently there was no spare available and no one could make a decision to go and buy one. Despite my urgings, it continued to remain unrepaired.
There is a photograph of me during my first time in Holland in 1995, aged 12, when I’m riding against Joost van Leijen, who has a race skin suit. I took the message to heart. Four years later, for my ill-fated British Championship, I had a new race skin suit, which gave me an advantage over the Lottery-funded WCPP riders that year. In 2000, when Dad was told that all I would have would be a standard GB jersey and shorts for the World Championships, he stated he would pay to get one made in GB colours, pointing out that 12-year-olds in Holland understood the advantages. Then, embarrassed, BC did get one produced. For Athens and Beijing, I had insisted on a skin suit, as on many other occasions, but despite asking for a skin suit for Varese, there was none. Fortunately, I had brought my previous GB skin suit with me, so if they couldn’t supply the new one, I said I would wear that instead. This was not acceptable to Dave Brailsford, who was protecting the new sponsor’s rights, and so we got into a stand-off.
In the past, Mum had sewed logo badge after badge onto Mick Ives’s jerseys for me, as sponsors failed to match their side of the bargain, but this was now post-Beijing 2008. There were TV programmes investigating how British Cycling and its ‘Secret Squirrels’ maximised each ‘marginal gain’, with vast quantities of the public’s money spent on technical investigations to ensure the country’s finest had the best chance. Fortunately, Emma Pooley had her sewing kit with her and came to the rescue; a Sky logo was cut out of a jersey and sewn onto my old skin suit.
I put to the back of my mind these injustices. I needed to concentrate on the forthcoming race. We were going to be in for a great contest, there were many potential winners and most countries had six riders, so it was a big field. On the very first lap, there was an attack which, unusually, included some big hitters. Kristin Armstrong, the Beijing time-trial gold medallist, attacked with former World champion Diana Ziliute, who had won a stage at the Tour de l’Ardeche. There was a reaction from the other teams and a 13-strong group formed which included Lizzie Armitstead for GB, three Germans, although one then dropped back to the bunch, and representatives from all the strong nations, with the notable exception of the Swiss and Dutch.
This was a very good move for me, as it forced Marianne Vos’s team-mates to chase as the rest of us looked on. This was no ordinary early race break and there was a real possibility of it going the whole distance. Diana had her Lithuanian team-mate Jolanta Polikeviciute with her, and the rest of her team were very active in constantly going to the front of the bunch and disrupting the Dutch and Swiss chase. In fact, the lead was increasing so much that even the teams who had riders in the break had, in the end, to help the chase, otherwise we would have gifted the race to Kristin or Diana.
The break stayed away until the last lap. As we caught the break, I asked Lizzie to take me up to the front of the bunch, so that I could be there for the start of the climb. I latched onto her wheel and she drove smoothly past many riders, taking me to the front. It was a super effort on her part, and just at the right time before Marianne attacked. The attack was so hard that only the strongest and those near the front were able to respond. We were a group of six: Susanne Ljungskog and Emma Johansson for Sweden, Judith Arndt and Trixi Worrack for Germany, Marianne Vos for the Netherlands and me. Noemi Cantele, riding in front of her home crowd, had missed the move and would spend the rest of the race trying to catch us. Unfortunately for Susanne, she caught her front wheel in the rear mechanism of Trixi’s bike and lost some spokes, so we were down to five, with the Germans having superiority in numbers.
No one was waiting for the finish and there followed one of the most exciting finales to a race that I have ever had the privilege to participate in. Each rider was capable of winning and each had a deep-seated motivation to win. Trixi had been beaten for the gold by Marianne in 2006, Judith had sacrificed her own chances at Beijing (she finished 41st), Emma had narrowly lost out to me in the Olympics and of course Marianne had been the red-hot favourite for the Olympic road race and had finished off the podium, a feeling I knew only too well.
From the formation of the break to the finish, there was not a single moment where I was not either attacking or responding to the attack of someone else. Every one of us put in a potential race-winning move prior to the finale. Every single move was countered. All senses were fully alert. It was necessary to constantly monitor your position in relation to everyone else and to our place on the circuit. Each move required a calculation: do I react immediately and give an easy ride to the person on my wheel, or wait to see if someone else will chase instead? I knew that any of the others was capable of going the distance to the finish if you gave them more than a few seconds’ lead.
Marianne made another strong attack on the second hill. She had completely changed her tactics since Beijing and was going to try to make a lone break, or at least further thin down our group. She managed to get a ten-second gap and only through the dedicated efforts of the Germans was she brought back.
It is impossible to describe what followed in a blow-by-blow account. It was simply the five best riders in the world battling it out for the honour of being able to put on that World champion’s jersey at the end of the race. Every time an attack was nullified, I would take a look at all the others. Who was starting to suffer, who seemed fired up and ready to attack again? If one attacks, who will respond? All the time we were getting closer and closer to the finish. It was a good job I had been training on the circuit for the last few weeks and knew every bend and turn of those final few kilometres and could concentrate on the tactics.
I was on the front when Emma attacked with just over a kilometre to go, but instead of chasing I simply moved sideways as if to say, ‘I’m not chasing. Someone else can.’ Marianne, Judith and I watched each other as Emma pulled away. As we slowed, Trixi attacked from behind us to chase Emma. Still, Marianne, Judith and I watched each other. It was the coolest manoeuvre I had ever made in a big race, the desperation of previous World Championships not there. I was not cracking. None of us were, but if we stayed like this we would be riding for bronze.
Finally, Marianne cracked and attacked, and I dived for her wheel. Emma was still alone ahead, with Trixi about 50m behind her, and the three of us about 50m behind Trixi. As Marianne caught Trixi, it brought Judith back in play. She attacked from the back and I jumped straight on to Judith’s wheel with Marianne now following me. Judith was now bearing down on Emma. As we turned left into the finishing straight, Judith stormed past Emma and it was now going to come down to a three-way sprint for gold.
I had gifted Marianne the best position of being on my wheel, but for once I was coming into the finishing straight not having spent the last lap chasing down most of the attacks by myself. I had remained cool and forced Marianne to do much of the work. I was watching closely for signs that Judith would kick and launch the sprint, while also glancing back and checking on Marianne, in case she jumped first from behind while also anticipating my own opportunity. I didn’t need to maximise shelter now, I needed to leave a gap so that if Judith didn’t go, I would have enough manoeuvring room to avoid being closed in by Marianne, or accelerate into Judith’s slipstream if I made my own move.
The road bent round to the right at 200m to go, and as it straightened out Marianne made her attack. She made a really hard acceleration and was in front going for the win. The line was coming up fast. Was there still time for me to accelerate, catch her and then get in front? At 100m to go, I was alongside. The current and previous world No.1s were battling it out in the last few metres, just the sort of heavyweight battle I had dreamed of. I gave it absolutely everything and passed Marianne in the last 50m, with enough time to fling my hands in the air in a victory salute.
I had ridden the best race of my life. The elation and joy of winning came flooding through me, and all this in front of a crowd that was as close to a home town as I could possibly get; the passion of the Italians and their love of cycling reached out to me. All those years of frustration and disappointment were finally laid to rest.
On the podium, I wanted to absorb every single moment. I looked at that jersey and medal as they brought it across to me. There is a photograph of me slowly pushing my head through the neck opening of the jersey. I was pulling on the jersey very slowly and deliberately. Under the jersey, my eyes were shut tight. I was ten years old, charging up and down the hills after watching Robert Millar’s heroic ride, daring to dream. Now I was the first person ever to achieve the double of Olympic and World champion in the same year. I was savouring this moment every bit as much as pulling on that first polka dot jersey in Holland at my first international race. It had been a very long, very hard journey.