“I started this journey looking for confidence, and ended up with a new dream”
As my elite cycling career on Zwift transitioned fairly quickly into road racing in the UCI Peloton, I had to learn how to handle a bike quickly!
I’ve always had an ability to suffer through tough climbs and ride hard for a long time getting me second place in both the National Hill Climb and second place in the National 100 mile TT, however having an aerobic engine and the ability to hurt only gets you so far in the pro peloton.
I’d been chomping at the bit to rub shoulders with the best riders in the sport and see what I could do but I perhaps hadn’t appreciated that you LITERALLY need to be rubbing shoulders with them.
In the high-speed navigation of the peloton, putting yourself in a position to capitalize on moves and stay out of trouble requires a flow state that many riders develop from a young age, making it second nature, while others rely on sheer bravery! I however had neither of these things but something I did have, was the willingness to keep trying. It was time to learn some new tricks, so I turned to gravel racing—In the hope that this would be my springboard to level up.
What I didn’t expect was that gravel racing would not only help me grow as a rider but also spark a passion that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Why Gravel Racing?
At first, gravel was just about gaining confidence. I loved that I could push myself without worrying about riding in a tight pack of 150 women. The trails and varied terrain kept it exciting and gave me space to focus and it became a place where I could build my confidence, adapt to new surfaces, and gain transferable skills for road racing. I used to see people moving up the peloton by literally squeezing down the side of the road
on the grass bank and I never quite understood how people could get themselves to do this with the pack moving at 40kmph.
What really surprised me, though, was how quickly I felt comfortable with gravel’s unique challenges like loose climbs and unpredictable conditions. It forces you to focus and zone in helping improve my mental endurance!
Particularly useful for me as I grew up with Attention Deficit Disorder and I have always struggled with my concentration, yet I found myself embracing gravel racing, falling in love with this new challenge and developing a new sense of purpose.
There’s the time trial aspect. Gravel races often have long stretches of racing where it’s just you, the trail, and your ability to maintain an effort where every pedal stroke counts. That’s where I feel truly at home—grinding it out. It reminds me why I fell in love with cycling in the first place.
There’s something special about the gravel community too. It’s a little more laid-back, more about the journey itself than the competition. That’s been refreshing for me and I always look forward to the next adventure with the new friends I’ve met. And camping! It relishes the camping culture as well.
It all kicked off with my first gravel race in Scotland. I’d booked to be off at the end of the week, starting on Wednesday, to catch the 5 a.m. train up to Galloway and Dumfries, where my mate Phil Murphy was waiting to pick me up in his campervan.
The plan was simple: recce the furthest part of the course on Wednesday, the closer sections to the race campsite on Thursday and then a recovery day before the big race on Saturday.
I rocked up at Euston station at 4:30 a.m., helmet and sunnies already on, with
a frame bag strapped to my bike. Inside were all my essentials:
Lizi’s Race Essentials:
● My trusty one (wo)man tent
● Race kit: skin suit, training jersey, and bibs
● A dress for the after-party (because priorities!)
Phil scooped me up, and we made the obligatory stop to stock up on Irn-Bru
and BBQ supplies, including a bottle of Merlot that we planned to spread out
over 4 days after we had the conversation, “Technically, we’re on holiday, but let’s not go too wild,” especially after we saw the course profile—1,800m of climbing over 110km through the rugged Scottish forests!
We parked up on the course and it was time for the fresh rubber to hit the gavel and
get a feel for the terrain. There’s something magical about the thick smell of moist
pine, a reminder that we were deep in the Scottish wilderness. What I lacked in pure
talent, I made up for with a false sense of security, thanks to Irn-Bru pulsing through
my veins. It wasn’t just fuel—it was optimism in a can.
Gravel racing is tough. Not just in a fitness way, but in a muscular fatigue way and
consequently, fuelling well is crucial for survival which is why most riders carry a
rucksack with a 2L hydration bladder to stay topped up on the go and something else
that is significant about fuelling from a mouth piece that can be tucked away, is that it’s
easier to keep it away from the dust and dirt in comparison to the bottles on your bike
which can leave you with a bit of an upset stomach somewhere down the line!
Tire Choice:
I’d copied Phil’s tire setup, rolling on Pirelli’s ‘Mixed’ gravel tires, 40mm wide. They felt perfect—smooth uphill, bouncy downhill, and they handled the rocks and occasional mud like a dream. Surprisingly, the slushy mud was almost non-existent because, believe it or not, May in Scotland is prime tanning weather!
Being both online coaches, we found this charming little internet café, which turned into our optimal workday/carb-loading HQ and enjoyed the lead up to the race with the sun shining, minimal drama and maximal Scottish vibes on our rations of merlot before we hit the sack and were joined by our mates the next day.
The day before race day:
The race HQ campsite started filling up with racers and what was once a serene oasis of tranquillity very much metamorphosed into all of your worst memories of Glastonbury and it became about embracing the grit (or was it someone else’s sh!t?)
As my mates set up their camp retreat, Phil helped me haul my little tent across the field without packing it down and I joined the rest of the guys. I’m normally not a fan of buying race merchandise but by this point I’d run out of clean clothes and grit resilience and decided to pay a visit to the Expo for souvenir wearables that were eventually
given away with signature “eau du race aroma”.
Gravel race numbers that cable tie to the front of your bike typically attach to the bike and act as a parachute in the wind. We attempted to cut them down to as small as ‘race legally possible’ to optimize aerodynamics and then we set off to the pasta party where I met ‘Ex-Pro-on-front-cover-of-every-MTB-magazine-in-the-90’s’ David Hemming,
who was working on the event in media. We got chatting, shared some stories and became acquainted, which became significant the next day in me getting to the finish line!
Race morning:
We were almost ready. Optimized aero gains, hydration pack filled up with 320g of carbs in my 2L bladder, beetroot shot! (which, given the state of the porter-loos, everyone must have bought into the concept), tyre pressure which was quite a bit of a debate. More pressure; less grip and comfort, less pressure; more rolling resistance. However, Dr. Google suggested that the benefits of running lower pressure still outweighed its negatives and once again this modern twist of flipping a coin solved the old debate.
I arrived at the start line, soaking up the Scottish sun as the pen filled with female pros from around the world. They kicked things off with a lively presentation, seeding the gravel celebrity flair at the front and giving them a chance to share some words of wisdom against the breath-taking backdrop of the Scottish Highlands. The countdown kicked off, And within a blink, we were off!
Right from the gun, we hit a brutal 5-10 minute climb, which was perfect for me. The race kicked off with 50 elite women, but after that punishing ascent, only 8 of us remained in the lead group. We worked together to create a gap, and I quickly felt in my element—pushing hard on the climbs and staying cautious on the descents.
Gravel Racing in the Scottish highlands is the ultimate “no hiding” zone. Where strength in depth can ride away and stay away. Normally, after the 2 hour point in these races, the field starts to really spread out and at the punchy end of the field, there tends to be less than a handful of riders up the road.
Around 40k in, the girls were really starting to feel it and I was turning the screw to open the hurt locker knowing how good my lactate clearance is, so when I got to the descents, I knew I’d be able to recover fast. There was a section that we had reccied the friday before that was a bit of a disaster zone. It was more MTB style with a mixture of deep mystery puddles, mud tracks, large boulders and tree routes. On race day I knew we’d just plough through it but if there were any red flags where technical issues were likely to happen, this would be it and I soon learnt that the hard way. Note to self – Start with fresh tires next time. And there, on the unforgiving scottish gravel, I stood with the entire content of my sealant having leaked out. No repair kit, just a damsel in distress. FML..
10 seconds later I must have become the luckiest person in the race! The media car pulled up with Mr. Hemming to the rescue, frantically plugging 7 holes which were probably a build up of damage in the tire from the training week but defended by the sealant.. Until there was no sealant left to defend! Despite David’s best efforts, we had to find outside assistance to fully change the tire at the aid station up the road
which felt like an hour but in reality was only around 10 mins. I managed to get back on the bike. A fire in my belly and a fresh tire later, I made my way back through the field and finished the race, passing the dropped riders and crossed the line in 5th place. Unfortunately, because of the special assistance, I had to disqualify myself. Honestly, I
was having so much fun and I was feeling really good about how I’d been riding, I didn’t even care.
At the finish line, my friends, who had started an hour ahead of me, were nowhere to be
found. They were back at the campsite, expecting me to roll in about 30 minutes later as they prepared for the party. I arrived at the campsite before they left and we had some
great banter, sharing stories about the chaotic punctures left right and centre and how amazing the race actually was with the sunshine and the tough competition. That day the strongest elite women were faster than most of the men’s age group fields.
I started getting ready and slipped into the essential yellow dress, tucked my phone into
my gravel rucksack, and we all set off to post race drinks. Those days the temperature
stayed over 20 degrees with sunshine until 9pm. We were blissfully sitting under the canopy in the shade drinking cider listening to the award ceremony then, just as we were getting comfortable, the heavens decided to unleash a monsoon! It absolutely poured while some age groups were still finishing their races. But did they let that dampen
their spirits? Not a chance! They crossed the finish line buzzing with excitement, rain-soaked and smiling, posing for celebratory group photos like a bunch of soggy superstars.
Now that’s what I call a fun day out!
The final day before embarking on our journey back to London, we decided to sneak in one last adventure. We mapped out a Strava route – a 90-minute steady cruise along the coast, meandering through scenic gravel country roads. The perfect blend of farm road and gravel. Naturally, we wrapped things up at Carb-loading HQ, our go-to spot for a caffeine fix and some much-needed recovery treats. After all, we had an 8-hour drive back to London ahead of us, and nothing fuels a long road trip quite like a caffeine hit and the famous Scottish ‘Tablet’, a sweet, melt-in-your-mouth treat made from sugar, butter, and condensed milk. YUM.
I caught a ride home with my friend Alex, who generously offered not only the lift but also a quick detour to British Cycling Headquarters so I could pick up a TT bike I’d
scrambled together for my first upcoming UCI road stage race in France, starting THAT Wednesday. But I’ll save the details of that adventure for the next blog!
Spoiler alert: We made it back home (just shy of midnight), and despite being half-asleep, I still managed to get the TT bike built and ready for the next day’s journey to France. Stay tuned—things are about to get fast and exciting!