The screech of brakes on carbon rims, of bikes bouncing all over the road, and women screaming as they pile up is a sound that I will never get out of my head. Every crash sounds the same, I don’t need to look, and if I’m lucky I’ll have gotten through. To remain safe in the bunch I need to shut off any concern for my teammates and fellow competitors and refocus on my race. If I let myself register that something horrible may have happened, my day is over. There’s no room for doubt when you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with 100 women, all fighting for the same space on the road.

I have never feared the likely results of a crash. Broken bones and road rash, while inconvenient, have never been a real deterrent to racing. My love of the sport has far exceeded the risk of a few scars. What haunts me is the deeper fear – an inarticulate darkness. The what-if, worst case scenario. It’s the loss of who I am as a person. It’s the loss of connection. It’s the loss of all other aspirations beyond sport. It’s death.

These are not irrational fears. Permanent injuries happen. People die in this sport.

The first time I saw someone airlifted from a race, I stayed removed. I told myself stories about what it took to be a professional in this sport while scouring the internet for updates on her brain injury. The next time it happened, the stories I told myself couldn’t mask the reality that racing could have catastrophic outcomes beyond my control. These are fears I have had to work through and acknowledge in order to compete.

After my first concussion in 2015, I wrote my partner my what-if letter through tears. To be opened only if that unlikely worst-case scenario came to pass.

When I can’t shut out my fear, I use key words written on my stem to bring me back to what I’m there to do: ‘Be Here Now’ prompts me to stay present, to leave the close call behind me. ‘Belong’ inspires me to compete for the front of the race. For the win.

The dominant narratives of endurance sport tell me that I should ‘never give up’, that I should work hard and earn my success. What these stories fall short of capturing is the luck, the split-second, life-changing moments that see one competitor rise to the top, while others step back, or worse, are unable to continue. Putting in the work, managing the pain, eliminating distractions are all a given to compete at this level – and all that guarantees is a place on the start line.

FootNotes

No Human is Limited

I'm Here To Win

The Humble Son

My Incredible Journey

The Most Interesting Man In The World

Season 3