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.

A Common Dream

One Step Closer

There was a whole lot of orange when I got back to Spain. Back with my South African National Champs title and over six weeks on the road, I was happy to be back home and even happier to have the entire CCC Liv team there—it was orange from inside out! I love being in a team environment and, I have to admit, I felt quite spoilt having a team camp at my house and in the place I love to ride my bike. I couldn’t wait to show everyone everything! Nevertheless, with all the Liv bikes lined up in the courtyard, the big orange truck, the staff, and all the riders, I was also a bit apprehensive. It was the first professional team camp we would host at Rocacorba Cycling so, although I was excited, I also felt the weight of the opportunity. 

As a rider, I knew the camp would go well. Team camps are usually hosted at big hotels with average food in a strange place that boasts nothing but good weather. Here, not only did we have amazing weather, we also had the stunning superior roads of Girona and the comforts and athlete-friendly catering of Rocacorba Cycling all to ourselves. The riders and staff each had their own house so coming back to a home, sharing meals all together, and having the property to ourselves really allowed everyone to relax and settle in. I didn’t have to wonder if things were going well, I could feel it and I was hearing it. As we explored the Costa Brava and the Pyrenees under the sun, there was a definite consensus that Calpe and Almeria were out and Girona was in. 

As the ten-day camp came to an end and we all prepared to travel to our first European race, Setmana Ciclista Valenciana, the positive feedback was overwhelming. With athlete-driven care and attention to detail, the dreamy training roads, and, the heart-stealer herself, Mila our family beagle, we had pulled off our first professional team camp. The best part was hearing what the team loved most was the same thing our recreational guests loved: the welcoming homey atmosphere. 

I knew Rocacorba Cycling had the ability and facilities to provide everything a pro team could need but I also knew, if the camp went well, it was an important opportunity to get a little bit closer to realising our vision. I always talk about connecting the dots in the cycling industry and this was one of those connections; having pro teams use the same facilities we provide to amateur and recreational cyclists is a way of connecting people and creating a more sustainable platform for cycling (especially women’s cycling) to flourish. Accomplishing our goal of hosting a pro team camp had validated that our longterm vision was possible and that feeling was the real success.

Images by Oliver Grenaa