One Year On: Lessons from a Broken Back

Photo credit: Olivia Hugh

I don’t usually keep count. I’m not one to mark the anniversary of a crash or dwell on moments of misfortune. It’s never been my way to adopt a victim mentality — I’ve always believed in moving forward, learning from the past, and using adversity as fuel. But today, one year on from a crash that could have changed everything, I feel it's worth pausing to reflect. Not to relive the pain, but to acknowledge the process — and the growth that came from it.

It was Stage 1 of the Volta Catalunya. A high-speed sprint finish. Just a few hundred meters from the line, a rider slid out in front of me. I had nowhere to go. The crash happened in an instant. There was no time to think, no space to react. I took the initial impact on my head, and then my back folded violently beneath me. That force is what caused the burst fracture.

The moment I came to — lying on the road — I knew something was terribly wrong.

The diagnosis: a burst fracture of my T10 vertebra. An unstable injury, with a bone fragment dangerously close to my spinal cord. The kind of injury that usually requires surgery. But thanks to an incredible medical team, we opted for a conservative approach — no operation, just time, patience, and a very strict back brace. It was the right call, but it came with uncertainty, fear, and many long nights lying still, hoping the bone wouldn’t shift, praying the nerves would stay untouched.

For the first two weeks, I didn’t take the brace off. Not even to sleep. I was terrified of making one wrong move. I broke the process into phases. First, survive those two weeks. Then, gradually start moving again. I vomited constantly the first few days — a side effect of the trauma to my spine and nervous system. One of those days, I lay in bed and thought, this is it. But I made it through.

And then, in true me fashion, I was back on the Tacx trainer on Zwift. Back brace on, mind focused, eyes on the Olympic Games and the Tour de France Femmes. It was a fine line between risk and resilience — between pushing forward and holding back. But I knew that if I could control my environment, I could take back some power. So I controlled what I could: my mindset, my movement, my approach.

I’m no stranger to injury. Perhaps the most formative one came long before I turned pro — in my final year of school, during a horse riding accident. I wasn’t wearing a helmet. I hit my head on a concrete block and was placed in an induced coma for ten days. Doctors said I’d never finish school. That I’d never be the same again. That I’d be brain damaged. But I recovered in three months, finished school with seven distinctions, and went on to study chemical engineering. That experience shaped me — not just physically, but mentally. It taught me that adversity is not the end of the story; it’s often the beginning of a new one.

Throughout my career, I’ve faced setbacks — broken collarbones, a fractured ilium in a violent time trial crash in 2016 — each time, learning that recovery isn’t linear, and that patience is often the most powerful kind of strength.

This broken back, though — it’s been different. Longer. Deeper. It’s forced me not only to recover physically, but to reconfigure how I relate to my body, my goals, and the athlete I strive to be.

The bone has now fully remodeled. It’s not the shape it once was — no longer a square but a wedge. My body has adapted to accommodate it, and that’s been its own journey: managing spasms, strengthening the surrounding muscles, and re-learning what “normal” feels like.

But let me be clear: I haven’t accepted that I won’t be the rider I was before. In fact, I haven’t yet had the chance to fully focus on the marginal gains again — on performance in its purest sense. I believe I could come back stronger. Smarter. More complete.

What I have done is learned how to adapt. How to contribute in new ways. How to reinvent myself in the face of challenge. Because that’s what life — and a long career — is all about. Maybe I’m not always the rider chasing results at the front, but I’ve grown into a road captain, a mentor, a leader. I’ve learned to bring value in other ways, and that too is something I’m proud of.

If there’s one overarching lesson this year has taught me, it’s that there is no such thing as instant success. We live in a world obsessed with quick results — with winning now, with bouncing back fast. But real transformation doesn’t happen that way. True growth — in sport, in life, in ourselves — takes time. It’s a process.

And in many ways, it mirrors a Grand Tour. You don’t win it in a day. You win it by showing up — stage after stage — navigating the highs and lows, weathering the crashes, adjusting when plans fall apart, and always keeping your eyes on the bigger picture.

So no, I don’t celebrate crash anniversaries. But today, I acknowledge the journey. And I recommit — to the process, to the pursuit of excellence, to becoming the best version of myself. Maybe it won’t look exactly like it did before. Maybe it will look even better.

The fire still burns. I’m still here. And I’m still moving forward.

The Women’s Tour of Britain: A Turning Point in the Story of Women’s Cycling

As I sit on my Tacx trainer, spinning out a session on Zwift while at altitude, I’ve been watching the Women’s Tour of Britain unfold — and I can’t help but reflect on just how important this race has been to the evolution of women’s cycling. In many ways, it was the first event that showed us what was possible when our sport was treated with the respect and professionalism it deserves. It wasn’t just a race; it was a statement — and a catalyst for change.

For much of my early career, women’s racing felt like a well-kept secret. We poured our hearts into races that barely made it onto the radar — no live TV, only the occasional highlights package uploaded hours later, if at all. Following the sport meant refreshing Twitter feeds or trawling obscure websites. It often felt like the only people who truly followed women’s cycling were those with a direct connection to a female rider.

Even prestigious events like the Giro d’Italia Femminile were organised and marketed more like local races than elite sporting events. There was little investment in publicity, and no real strategy to draw local crowds, let alone a broader audience. We often felt like we were on our own — doing it for the love of the sport, yes, but without the infrastructure to support a real professional career path.

The Women’s Tour of Britain changed that. Introduced in 2014 by SweetSpot, it was one of the first races to take women’s cycling seriously — not just as sport, but as a product worth building, marketing, and sharing with the world. The same organisation that ran the Men’s Tour of Britain brought the same level of professionalism to the women’s race. And it showed.

Towns and communities got involved from the start, bidding to host stages, launching local campaigns, and lining the streets with schoolchildren waving flags. The organisation, the marketing, the sense of occasion — it felt like we had finally arrived. Even in the early years, when TV coverage was limited to highlight shows, the professionalism and visibility were game-changing. It was the first time I saw, in practice, what a career in this sport could look like.

Personally, finishing second overall in the 2016 edition of the Women’s Tour remains one of the proudest moments of my career. It was a turning point that gave me the confidence to keep pushing — to believe that this dream could become a sustainable, professional reality.

Of course, the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted everything. But in a strange and unexpected way, it also acted as a springboard for women’s cycling. With traditional racing halted, Zwift became the epicentre of the sport. And when ASO approached Zwift to host a virtual Tour de France in 2020, Zwift only agreed on the condition that the women’s event be treated with complete parity — equal stages, equal coverage, equal opportunity.

It was the first time the women’s peloton raced under the Tour de France name. Before that, we had La Course — a one-day event that always felt like a token offering. It began as a criterium on the Champs-Élysées, and while it later included more challenging parcours, it never received the same marketing or coverage as the men’s race.

But during that virtual Tour de France, broadcast around the world, people watched. People cared. The popularity and engagement proved what we had always known — that women’s cycling had a real audience, a real business case, and a bright future. That moment opened the door to the rebirth of the Tour de France Femmes avec Zwift, and it changed the trajectory of the sport.

Still, none of that progress would have been possible without the early pioneers. The Women’s Tour of Britain was a trailblazer — a race that led by example and showed what women’s cycling could become with the right support and belief behind it.

Which is why it’s so heartening to see the race return this year after a two-year hiatus. Sadly, SweetSpot — the original organisers who did so much to elevate this race — went into liquidation amidst the economic downturn. The future of the Women’s Tour was uncertain. But thanks to British Cycling, who recognised its value and stepped in to ensure its survival, the race is back. That act alone speaks volumes about the growing recognition of women’s cycling as something worth investing in and protecting.

And this year’s edition has already been full of emotion. My team, AG Insurance–Soudal, has been racing brilliantly, and it was great to see my teammate Kim Le Court take a fantastic stage victory in the opening stage yesterday. Unfortunately, bad luck struck during today’s stage and Kim was involved in a crash, meaning she is no longer in the leader’s jersey. But her win remains a huge moment — both for her and for the team — and a reminder of just how far we’ve come.

So here’s to the Women’s Tour of Britain. To the visionaries at SweetSpot who created it, and to British Cycling for ensuring it still has a future. To the towns, schools, volunteers, and fans who lined the streets and believed in us when it still felt like we were racing in the shadows.

And here’s to the riders — past and present — who fought for this sport when few were watching. We ride on your shoulders. And we ride with purpose, with pride, and with deep, deep gratitude.

Stuck in the Dark Ages: Why Professional Road Cycling Needs a Revolution

Professional road cycling is stuck. Trapped in a cycle of tradition, ego, and outdated thinking, it’s a sport that fails to reflect the values and energy of modern society. While the world around it evolves — embracing inclusion, mental health, authenticity, and meaningful leadership — cycling clings desperately to a “win-at-all-costs” mentality that no longer serves anyone, least of all the athletes themselves.

This isn’t just about the lack of diversity or the outdated team structures. It’s a deeper, systemic issue. Professional road cycling is one of the most cutthroat environments in sport — where results are everything and human beings are often reduced to statistics. It's an industry driven by fear, pressure, and a narrow definition of success.

One of the biggest reasons for this is the recycled leadership model that dominates the sport. Former riders step into managerial roles with the same philosophies they raced under, perpetuating a culture that’s resistant to innovation. Of course, there are exceptions — incredible, forward-thinking individuals and teams do exist, including my own — but they remain the exception, not the norm. They are the minority in a system that rewards conformity over vision.

There is no strong, collective leadership in professional cycling. There's no central mission to develop well-rounded human beings or to foster environments where riders thrive beyond the bike. Instead, the message is clear: your worth is your performance. And that mentality is dangerous.

We are creating generations of athletes who have no identity beyond the bike. Cyclists who are so singularly focused on results that when the wins dry up or their careers end, they are lost. They haven’t been taught life skills. They haven’t been supported as people. And when their usefulness to the team fades, so too does their self-worth.

Sport — especially cycling — should be a vehicle for something greater. It should be a platform for inspiration, resilience, connection. But we’ve reduced it to a highlight reel of podiums and power numbers. Victories fade. What lasts are the values, the lessons, and the personal growth earned through the journey.

Professional cycling has an opportunity — one it’s failing to seize — to evolve into something far more powerful than a results machine. Because the world has changed. The way brands engage with consumers has changed. Visibility on a jersey isn't enough anymore. Brands want connection. They want storytelling. They want to be associated with athletes who are real, relatable, and human.

That’s where the true potential lies — in the stories behind the stats. In the processes. The setbacks. The sacrifices. The mental battles. The community. That’s what inspires people. That’s what grows audiences. That’s what brings value to sponsors far beyond logo placement.

By continuing to centre everything around winning, cycling excludes the very people it claims to want to reach: young people, women, casual fans, and new audiences. Because most people don’t live in a world of constant winning. They live in a world of ups and downs. They want role models who are human — who show them that struggle and vulnerability can coexist with strength and ambition.

And if we want to grow the sport — if we want cycling to matter in the years to come — we need to rethink the model. We need to stop chasing short-term wins and start building long-term impact. That means investing in people. In leadership. In education. In storytelling. It means shifting the definition of success away from just victories and toward value.

The current system might still work for a small group — for the same old audience, the same egotistical, performance-obsessed bubble. But it is not sustainable. It is not modern. And it is certainly not inclusive.

It’s time to break the cycle.

Explore Can Campolier

Chasing Rocacorba

Rocacorba Cycling Covid-19 Policy

Open Space 

We are situated on the estate of Can Campolier in a remote area on the outskirts of the town of Banyoles, near Girona. Our estate is centred around the main villa, but consists of three separate buildings spanning acres of open space. Each property has its own private outdoor area.

For the safety of our guests and staff we have implemented the following protocol:

General Guidelines 

• Anyone displaying symptoms of Covid-19 will be denied check-in, please do not travel if you feel unwell. 

• Your room and bathroom will be solely your domain, nobody else from outside of your party will enter during your stay.

• Use of the communal outdoor spaces such as the courtyard, gardens and field areas will be determined by local regulations, however social distancing measures must be adhered to.

• A distance of 2m will be kept between staff and guests at all times. 

Check-in

We will operate a no-contact policy when checking in and out. Keys will be made available at your villa upon arrival and communication will be via email or instant message.

Bathrooms 

Each room has a private bathroom.

Travelling 

We ask that everyone respects the current government restrictions on travel within provinces, regions, and countries. 

Cleaning Protocol

We comply to the highest standards of cleanliness and hygiene at all times and have applied additional measures to comply with Covid-19 requirements.

If you require any further information please contact us via email on info@rocacorbacycling.cc. To download this document click here.

A Common Dream

A Zwift Victory

The countdown timer for the race to start ticked over on the screen. I sat mounted on my bike, warmed up and ready to go, completely focused. I was genuinely in race mode and, after almost a month in lockdown, that was a welcome feeling. But the unfamiliarity of e-racing was making my heart beat a little faster. 

I had been invited to race the Zwift Classic Trofeo Bologna but initially I was hesitant. I’ve made a big effort to embrace Zwift since lockdown but I had been watching some of the other pro races and the power stats were intimidating. I had never done an e-race before so I also wasn’t sure how to strategize or use the power-ups. Even though I had actually raced the course in real life, this really was racing in a different world, but the newly addicted Zwift athlete in me couldn’t say no.

In the comfort of my own home, I waited for the start absolutely tingling with nerves. I hadn’t been this nervous for a race in years! When the race officially began, I over-powered the start and shot right out in front. In the peloton I was like a yo-yo. As a first-time e-racer, I didn’t have a sense of the delay between pedal power and on-screen position. I would be leading the race and then almost out the back, off the front and then instantly back to 30th. Eventually, I got the balance right and as we approached the first ascent up the Madonna di San Luca, I moved to the front and set the pace. I crested with only one other rider but we were caught at the bottom of the descent by a chase group of eight riders. By then, however, I had the hang of things.

I sat in the wheels, taking my turn on the front but also saving my legs as much as I could. In the one-day Giro dell'Emilia, we race up the Madonna di San Luca so, even though I was an avatar in a computer-generated representation, I knew exactly what to do. When the gradient screamed up on a sharp hairpin around 1 kilometer to go, I attacked. In the 2016 Giro dell'Emilia, I had come up short and finished second to Elisa Longo Borghini but that wasn’t happening today. As my family stood right next to me in the grips of excitement, cheering me on, I put down the watts and claimed the victory.

My family swarmed around to congratulate me, as did the virtual community. I knew the London Dynamo Club I often rode with on Zwift were watching from England and their messages began to pour in. I had tons of messages from riders I knew in real life and riders I had only ever “met" in Watopia. A lot of people were reaching out and, maybe it’s because of lockdown and the current situation, but the response seemed bigger than some of my real-life race wins.

The race was only 41 minutes so, even though it was around 21:00, I rode on for a long time after. The house settled back to quiet but I could feel there was lift in the atmosphere, a buzz from the race. I never imagined that Zwift would be such a big part of my life and I definitely never imagined I would be the winner of an e-race! I also never imagined that physical distancing would bring the cycling community so close together or that our sport would continue on in such a new way. Change brings uncertainty, as my racing nerves reminded me, but it also brings the hope and excitement of new opportunities and that makes my heart beat a little faster too.

Ashleigh´s Coconut Fish Curry Recipe

I absolutely love food and for me there’s nothing more satisfying than cooking a delicious meal for friends, family, and sometimes even guests at Rocacorba Cycling. Seeing people’s expressions as they tuck into a delicious meal brings me joy.

For me one of the things I enjoy most about cooking, is experimenting with flavours from different parts of the world. At the moment I’m really enjoying Indian and Thai flavours, and during the Coronavirus lockdown I’ve had more time than usual to experiment with new combinations.

I would like to share with you my recipe for my favourite dish at the moment; it is a colourful hake and prawn one-pot infused with a combination of Indian and Thai inspired flavours. The great thing about this dish is that it is super quick and easy to make, and is absolutely bursting with flavour.

Prep Time: 15 mins

Cook Time: 15 mins

Serves 4… or in the case of Carl and I, maybe only 2 ;-)

INGREDIENTS:

1 tbsp olive oil

1 onion, finely chopped

thumb-sized piece of ginger, finely grated

3 garlic cloves, crushed

1 anchovy fillet, finely chopped and mashed

1 small red chilli, shredded (deseeded if you don’t like it too hot)

rind of 1 lemon, finely grated

1 heaped tbsp medium curry powder

1 heaped tbsp muscovado sugar (or any brown sugar will do)

small bunch coriander, stems finely chopped

400g can coconut milk

450g skinless hake fillets, cut into generous rectangles

220g pack frozen raw whole prawns

1 lime, halved

cooked rice, to serve

METHOD

1. Heat the oil in a crockpot or lidded frying pan, then soften the onion for 5mins. Stir in the ginger, garlic, anchovy, chilli, and lemon rind, and cook for 2mins. Add the curry powder and sugar, and keep stirring. When the sugar starts to melt, add the coriander stems, coconut milk and a little water, then bring to a simmer.

2. Add the fish and prawns to the sauce, then squeeze over half the lime. Pop on the lid and simmer for about 5 mins or until the hake is just cooked and flaking, and the prawns are pink through. Taste for seasoning and add the remainder of the lime juice if you like. Scatter over the coriander leaves and serve with rice.

Finding Peace and My Place in Lockdown

So, life has changed. If you’re a human on the planet, you’ve been affected by Coronavirus. For us at Rocacorba Cycling in Spain, that has meant full lockdown. It happened with very little notice and, with the exception of groceries, medical care, or walking a pet, we are confined to our homes. 

The notice of our lockdown came fast. In about 48 hours we went from rumours to “effective immediately” and with that came a lot of fear and questions. As the gravity of reality sank in, so did my fear about the future. In the big picture of life, sport is not an essential good. Everyone is vulnerable—physically, mentally, and economically—and in such unprecedented times, I was struggling to find peace and place in the global pandemic. 

The biggest obvious challenge for me was shifting all my training indoors. I’ve always rather put on a jacket and trained outside, rain or snow, so, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to being stuck inside. But, whether injury, illness, the racing calendar, team decisions, training, family, work, or whatever, the best athletes are the ones that can adapt, period. Ready or not, I had to rise to this scary and extraordinary challenge. 

Rocacorba Cycling has always had a top-of-the-line indoor training set up thanks to our friends at Zwift. With a Tacx smart trainer and Zwift, I knew I had the best possible tools for success. Still, I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep it together mentally. A week was one thing. I was confident I could handle three even four weeks but what if it was longer? What about the Olympics? CCC-Liv? 

I just started out riding around Wattopia (one of the Zwift virtual worlds). Pretty quickly, I started to discover all the people; I began joining group rides and eventually started hosting meet-ups of my own. I rode with guests who were supposed to be staying with us, friends from across the planet who I never get to ride with, and I’ve even joined the London Dynamos for what’s become a regular Saturday morning ¨race¨. A whole new world of indoor training opened up to me and with real people behind every avatar, there was real engagement, real fun, and even real DOMS. I have a meet-up almost every day now and, unexpectedly, it’s actually allowed me to be more social than ever.

It took a while but I began to make peace with the situation. The Olympics weren’t gone, they were just a little bit farther away. The races would come back and I hoped women’s cycling would be able to find more ground in a post-pandemic world. We might not be racing as CCC-Liv but we were still very much a team. We had started meeting twice a week over the internet and that was actually bringing us closer together. The future of cycling was going to be different but CCC-Liv was already building a new, stronger normal and that security and support is just as comforting as it is a source of motivation. 

And I had also found my place: the indoor trainer. I felt blessed to be healthy and committed to doing my part and staying home. I was grateful that technology and Zwift allowed me to continue working and more grateful it became a source of motivation that also kept me connected to so many people. 

Rising to the challenge of Coronavirus, for me, has meant finding my place and making peace with reality and the unknown. Lockdown, no matter how long it will be, is always going to be hard but doing our part and staying safe from COVID-19 is about physical distance not social isolation. Whether it’s training inside and meeting-up for virtual rides, making a home office or a home gym, or picking up the phone and giving a friend or family member a call, staying together is the best way we can all rise to the challenge, stay healthy, and make it through Coronavirus.