Stage 20: Time trial

For an amateur cyclist any grand tour (three week cycle race, of which there is the Italian Giro, French Tour and Spanish Vuelta) would be a demanding experience.

But the 2014 Tour de France route was a particular challenge. Ten days back to back with no rest day, relentless mountain stages, very cold weather, followed a few days later by very hot weather, and many sleep and energy sapping transfers.

And only one time trial. With timing that meant it could not be used as a much needed surrogate rest day. Instead on the second last day it was asking you to ride on legs that were gone.

Four of us ladies created our own division of women's team time trial, and once out of the neutralised zone of traffic lights put our heads down along with the hammer. It was so much fun, and my only regret is I didn't have more in my legs to contribute to the train.

Something that I have discovered in the past year of cycling is that I can go downhill quite fast, and faster that a lot of other people. There is some pure joy in just going fast, and I still haven't figured out why other people don't go as fast as me.

It may be a blatant disregard for my personal safety, but until today the only accidents I'd had on the bike had involved not clipping out, and usually falling over in view of as many people as possible.

So, we were about 5km from the finish line, and I was enjoying a marvellous descent, well ahead of the rest of Team Ovaries. A white car pulled out in front of me, and I was concerned about having to slow. So I didn't see the sharp turn or roundabout come out of "nowhere".

Brakes on a road bike are not designed to make stops from 60km/hr to a stop in a matter of metres (especially on slightly damp and gravelly roads, and when the bike operators handling skills aren't the best). 

It's true, time really does stand still when something like this happens. You can see everything unfolding, but you have no way to control what is happening.

I am either awesome, lucky, or I suspect, a combination of both. I somehow managed a bit of a somersault (graceful commando roll) and to be (somewhat shakily) standing by the time the rest if the team came down the hill.

The damage: a very minor graze on a knee and elbow, a chunk out if my wrist (from the bracelet I was wearing) and a small scratch on my chin. Bike damage: handlebar angle slightly modified. Thankful I didn't go into shock, and was fairly easily able to ride to the finish line.

Closer inspection and a few days have revealed some additional bruising to my arse and shoulder, but  I think I was extremely lucky to escape intact.

My descents on the following day suggest I wasn't injured enough to shake some sense into me.