Keep Fighting. Period.

Everything was falling apart. 

I got off my bike and it was dead quiet. I had just finished the individual time trial at the Giro Rosa and, I knew it wasn’t my best day, but was it really that bad? Being met with silence from my team affirmed my worst fears. I had finished three minutes off the pace, out of the top ten, and it was a really hard pill to swallow. At the biggest stage race of the season, as my teammates sacrificed themselves for me, I just couldn’t deliver. I rode back to the team bus, taking that silence with me. 

Image: Jojo Harper

I started to spiral. I’ve had tons of bad races but this felt like more. My period had arrived early, leaving me feeling completely flat and in pain. I had strange and severe stomach pain that was keeping me up at night. Even my skin was sensitive to touch. I couldn’t eat and I didn’t want to. I knew it wasn’t true but it felt like everyone else was having a perfect race while mine was a disaster. Nothing was going right this season, it was just obstacle after set back after bad luck, and now, as I slid down the GC from 3rd to 9th, I felt completely disheartened. 

Of course, all of this was also happening in front of an audience. My teammates, the peloton, friends, family, and fans were all seeing me struggle and so the messages started. What was happening and why, I still wasn’t sure, but the support messages were clear: I had to find a way to keep fighting. 

I made it through the next two stages, getting dropped, clawing back, and fighting for every single pedal stroke. Every time an attack went or the pace surged, I couldn’t draw on my physical abilities like I was used to. I had to really dig deep into my experience to keep it together. My mum called to remind me how I had overcome an eating disorder, a serious head injury and a hip fracture. My husband, who was thankfully there by my side, kept reminding me what I was normally capable of and what we had accomplished, although, really, just his presence was a source of strength. My team was incredibly supportive, fully understanding how much impact your period can have on performance, let alone stomach issues. My phone was also constantly beeping with encouragement from fans through messages on social media. I didn’t have the physical power but I was constantly reminded that I did have the strength. 

Image: Sean Hardy

By Stage 9, the Queen Stage, the team doctor had helped get my stomach under control and I was over the worst of my period. I started to feel like myself again and Montasio, the big mountain top finish, was my chance to prove it. It was against the odds and the top riders in the world but, finally, my guts were saying let’s go for it. 

The stage played out exactly as predicted. We hit Montasio and Annemiek van Vleuten attacked. All the favourites respond and—hallelujah—so did my legs. Anna van der Breggen, Lucinda Brand, Amanda Spratt and I chased hard. As we caught Annemiek, the pace was…you can’t even believe! I knew it was impossible to keep that power going without blowing up and, after Lucinda dropped off, so did I. Moments later, Amanda did too. While Annemiek and Anna powered on, I set my sights on chasing down Amanda. 

I bridged to her strong and steady and as we hit the steep part together, I tried my best to get rid of her. I couldn’t shake her so when we hit the flat section, I slammed my gears into the big blade and punched the speed. I escaped from Amanda, crossed the line for 3rd on the stage, 4th in the GC, and I had never felt so relieved. 

I received lots of messages after Stage 9. The messages that recognized my low along with my stage podium were the ones that stayed with me. The people who noticed me struggle, saw me fight, and how I turned it around from such a low place, had seen something that felt vulnerable to me. The exposure of my difficulties had demonstrated, even to myself, a strength that went beyond watts and bikes. 

Image: Anton Vos

We all go into big races as prepared as possible but reality constantly shows us that races, seasons, and life never go to plan. The lesson, however, isn’t that life is unpredictable but that we can be resilient and rise above whatever challenges come our way. I’ve learned that lesson over and over again but, still, I keep learning it because as we rise, the difficulty of our challenges rise with us. It never gets easier but our capacity to handle what we once thought impossible is unfailing if we have faith in our fighting spirit. 

Join Ashleigh at the Harvest Tour

May your choices reflect your hopes, not fears

The last time I wrote publicly, I declared that an African would stand on the podium of a Grand Tour for the first time in history. It feels remarkable to deliver on that statement.

Coming second at the Giro Rosa after 10 days of aggressive, exciting, and demanding racing was incredibly satisfying. To back that up with Cille's fourth and my third at La Course only 48 hours later shows the depth of capability and dedication at Cervelo Bigla. Never have we gone so deep, pushed so hard, or fought so bravely. At one point during the Giro, I saw Clara Koppenburg in tears while she was still laying down the power.

To declare a massive ambitious goal publicly was equal parts scary and energising (maybe more 60/40), but we weren’t going to the Giro to lose. We went in with the hope of winning, and used that as our 'north arrow'. We were going to make attacks and believe they would be successful; we were going to ride like a big team because we could influence the outcome; we were going to race the Giro Rosa because we could win. We made sure that every choice, as Nelson Mandela scripted, reflected our hopes, not fears.

There were many times during the race when that strategy was challenged - when we lost two riders in the first few kilometres of the opening team time trial due to unforeseen mechanicals, when I crashed 8km before the finish line on stage 4 and almost lost everything, when Clara stood up to cover another attack on stage eight after I thought she couldn’t possibly turn another pedal stroke. Time after time we held onto our hope.

There have also been moments when our gutsy choices guided us to exactly where we had hoped to be, like when Cille attacked at La Course and I got to watch the entire bunch scramble and discuss what the heck they were going to do, or , back at the Giro, when I crested the Zoncolan in second place, chasing the pink jersey solo, and, of course, stepping up onto that final podium for second overall.

We raced with the hope of winning not the fear of losing. It was an ethos the whole team had to adopt, and we aren’t the only ones. I recognise it in the other women I race with, the teams of people behind each event, every family, fan, and sponsor. I see it when, like at this year's Giro, there are bigger crowds, more community engagement, better media coverage, and challenging courses. I feel it when the women's peloton delivers an exciting show and world-class performances. I feel it when I'm the first African to podium at a Grand Tour.
If there is just one thing the organisers of the Giro Rosa and the incredible teams that raced it proved that Cervelo Bigla's success proves it's that, if you choose to let it, hope will guide you to incredible places.