A team. A group of people working together towards a collective goal. Whether in work or in sport, it's arguably one of the most powerful formations humans can take. In cycling, that formation provides physical protection and endless performance benefits. For us, launching a team has given us a female force that has power way beyond the peloton. 


"We were four friends, who, for various reasons, all wanted to come together to be part of something positive and encouraging, and that's really what underpins the whole ethos of scarpa racing" - GEM

At the end of 2017, Scarpa Racing was founded. A new female race team based in London, born out of a conversation with one of my best friends, and all-round cycling mentor, Gem Atkinson. The combination of friendship, experience on the bike together and vision for what a female team could be, was a perfect set of ingredients to start a team. 

The Scarpa ethos is mostly driven by development but glittered with individual and team goals throughout the season. We all possess different strengths and so form a mega mix of experience to support each other. 

"People are constantly looking for something to be a part of and I’ve found my tribe, a group of misfits who have made racing something much bigger than that" - KPP

The three other girls (Gem, Olivia and EJH) are powerful, amazing and inspiring females. Bosses on bikes who are full time hitters and part time trolls. 

"I’ve had some frustrating races in the mud but post race, the girls are there to pick you up" - OLIVIA

We'll be wearing our new team kit from January 2018, proudly supported by Rapha Custom and Camden Watch Co, with a colour palette of navy, green and black (with adidas slides to match). 


From testing new tactics to challenging ourselves at different races, the team culture is underpinned by 'never mind' always being better than 'what if'. 



The team are there for each other, on and off the bike. We have started something new and hope to bring a unique flavour and approach to the female circuit (as well as gin, beer and an impressive array of bobble hats and snacks).



If all else fails, we can certainly podium at that....



Follow the team: @scarparacing
Read our interview with Camden Watch Co
Register your interest for Rapha Custom


#FESTIVE500 2017

#FESTIVE500 2017

Every year, Rapha hosts the infamous #Festive500 - a challenge to ride 500km between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. 

For 2017, I kept the plan simple with a handful of rules:

1. Explore. Stop at new cafes and not just the usual ones
2. Document each day
3. During each ride, think back and be grateful for 2017 (I went one stop further and listened to my Spotify 'top songs 2017' playlist)
4. Don't rush any of the kms
5. Get out early to be home early

As per Rule 2, I took the below notebook out on every ride. And as two of my 'Top Songs 2017' would say, I documented 'All These Things That I've Done' and came out the back of it 'Stronger' (thanks Kanye). 


Parting words to #Festive500 can be summed up by three other songs from my 'Top Songs 2017' playlist: 

- Intoxicated, Martin Solveig
- Hurt, Johnny Cash
- I lived, One Republic



What goes up, must come down. What's seen as fitness one month will be seen as 'losing fitness' another month. What's deemed success will be seen as anything but the year later. How do we remain content when goal posts are constantly moving and uncontrollables are often thrown in our way? 

We, as humans, have a terrible habit of not only struggling to retain contentment but actually find it in the first place. We think we know the secret to discovering it, but are proven wrong when we reach a chosen destination but our wandering eyes set sail somewhere else immediately. Or we find ourselves riding the wave of momentum, onboard what we think is the contentment train (one way ticket to fulfilment please), only to be de-railed by a sudden problem or injury. We're disheartened, struggle to find the station again and often decide to give up. Until, that is, we set our sights on the next lofty goal. 100% sure that this time, it will lead us to contentment.

I think we are getting it wrong. In particular, I am. 

Goals are great. I have discussed, talked and written a lot about the power of having goals and working consistently towards them. A focused mind is a forgiving mind. However, to retain contentment in this life (no matter what goal you are working towards) the secret could simply be in choosing 'attitude over outcome'. 

Attitude over outcome.

Externals are not in our control. Our attitude always is. This isn't just referring to our ability to handle the world when shit hits the fan. It's about knowing your life rules. Preferences that become our individual truths. Being crystal clear on what decisions and behaviour give us contentment, and then letting go of the rest.

Recently, my sciatica problem returned meaning my plans and goals were well and truly messed up. No riding and no end of season racing. The emotional journey began of frustration, anger and sadness. Struggling to deal with being out of my control and the plans I thought would lead to contentment were broken.

A few days later, my mind became more open and understanding. Adapting quickly and wonderfully the way humans always do. I sat with the concept of being focused on 'attitude not outcome' and realised a life truth of mine is 'find progression'. Instead of being overwhelmed by the backwards progression of racing, I focused on the upwards progression of back rehab. What initially felt pointless became purposeful - stretching daily, walking daily and reaching out to a specialist. I found my progression, just in a different way. 

'Contentment' isn't judgemental. It doesn't wait for external factors to be aligned or certain goals to be achieved. It's an emotion that favours the flexible and the forgiving. So find your truths - those preferences that no matter what happens, you can stay true to - and say yes to the daunting and inevitable concept of external change. No matter which road you take, it turns out contentment is just like coffee. Consistently there for you, no matter what. 



L'Etape du Tour. An epic blend of faff, fun and f**k me this is hard.
It's a sportive not a race. This year it was 180km and 3800m up, finishing on the infamous and seemingly never ended Col d’Izoard. 

Below are four pieces of advice you're likely to read when you google L'Etape du Tour. But often, our sassy human minds and real life get in the way of simple theory. So underneath are stories from the weekend without the censorship. Salty arses and all. 


Fuel well. Don't wait till you're hungry.


Don't rely on hotel breakfasts (I consumed something that resembled half omelette half cake). Locate the local bakeries. You’re probably going to eat cheese with every meal. Go to the supermarket, buy provisions and set up a work table in your hotel the night before to make ‘back pocket picnic’. Brioche rolls filled with warm cheese and melted guacamole may not sound appealing, but you’ll prove yourself wrong 100km in. The food stops should only serve as top ups. Putting overnight oats in a McDonald's cup ready for the 0500 breakfast is absolutely fine. The only thing shittier than the progressively terrible toilets would have been dehydration. Keep drinking. We went  through 10 bidons each. 


Pace yourself. 


Jump in with a group for the long winding flats. Don’t smash the first incline because you get carried away when the French crowds are screaming ‘allez allez’ or because everyone around you seems to be going faster. Find your rhythm and stick to it. Forget about the clock. No one actually cares apart from you (well, maybe also your boyfriend who is waiting at the end in a car parking space due to expire).


Take in the atmosphere. Look around you. 


Watch the tour on TV because those pirate camera views are much more spectacular than the handlebars you’ll inevitably be staring at during your ride. You won’t be able to ‘take in the atmosphere’ when half way up another 15km climb, sweating through your helmet and hunting out the next km marker. Instead, make friends with the flats. Chat to more people. We only had two meaningful conversations with strangers even though we were surrounded by 10,000+ people. You’ll more than likely pee in a bush with thousands of people riding past and you're more than likely to have salty sweat marks in places you'd prefer people not to be looking... take in that atmosphere too. 


Be prepared. 


We laughed at the guy who had packed toilet paper into his jersey. 130km into the ride was a bad time to realise he was right. Take time to prepare your finish line backpack with the precision you aligned your socks with that morning. Makes sure it includes food, drink, a hoody, face wipes and fresh socks. Pack layers - this is one ride where you’ll have to get over the aesthetic rule of bulging back pockets. The start line was freezing. Lara and I sat on the floor wishing we’d brought a cheap jumper that we could throw away once we got started. There was one guy with cardboard taped to his legs. Interesting. But do what you have to do so you can feel as comfortable as possible before the 180km of discomfort commences.  


If you're obsessed with this beautiful sport, taking on the Etape will give you another level of profound respect for the pro peloton. As you're taking a week off and recovering with all the beige foods you can find, they're back in the saddle racing again. Without the indulgent food stops. Without the novelty of a melted cheese baguette at 80km. And without the possibility of pacing and picture taking procrastination. 

If you’re looking for a new challenge, then wear the cleats of a pro rider for a day. Be inspired by the superhumans and ride your own great race, and by doing that you'll no doubt inspire someone else. 

Allez au héro de tous les jours.
- Go on the everyday hero. 



Good things come to those who... get absolutely pissed on en route to the start line, don't bring enough layers to warm up and probably shouldn't be racing because of a head cold that hasn't cleared. 

I managed my first proper win this month at a 3/4 race at Bovingdon Circuit. The incredible feeling of crossing the finish line first can only be explained by how strong the desire is to feel it again. I definitely don't have the magic answer on how to do that, as I'm pretty sure mine was 90% luck, but here are a few personal learnings:

1. Perfect form doesn't exist in your mind.
I 110% convinced myself I was in shit form - don't believe everything you think. 

2. Comparing is the devil.
I still have a terrible habit of not feeling good enough when looking at others. The infamous 'shut up legs' should be changed to 'shut up mind'.

3. Have a game plan and stick to it.
For once I had time to breathe and figure out a plan. Even if it doesn't turn out how you envisioned, 'never mind' is a much more positive force than 'what if'. 

4. Know your strengths (I don't have many so this is easy for me).
Use them rather than kicking yourself about things you're not so good at. 

5. Surround yourself with the right people.
The advice and encouragement I was given on the day was much more useful than the words I was telling myself. 

6. Keep going. 
The shit ton of hours in the saddle which don't feel progressive or the races that are too fast to grasp are just stepping stones not obstacles. 

7. Journal.
Even on a scrap piece of paper. I genuinely try to follow the rule of three and often have three things I'm working towards to keep me busy. And that doesn't just mean: Gin. Tonic. Cucumber. 

8. Race to race. Not for results.
When your parents used to say 'winning isn't everything', it turns out they were right. Don't wait for a first place to feel content. And don't wait for a win before a celebratory gin. It's cliche but it's true - turning up to race is amazing. Results only tell half the story. 

9. Fake it till you make it.
I still feel like I'm turning up to a party I've not been invited to. The outsider who didn't get the dress code or laughs along at the wrong jokes. Belief doesn't come easy to a lot of us. Force it so your mind and body eventually follow.  

10. The real winner...
was the girl who brought a down jacket for before and after the race. I looked on at her with such envy as I depressingly looked on at my shivering arms. 

The £20 prize winnings will be framed. Not as a reminder of the good times or a reminder that I did actually win a race once (probably won't happen again for a while). But as a reminder that even when you win a race, you're still a loser if you cross the finish like looking like this: 



I’m still very new to racing so every day is a school day and this weekend, travelling to Eastbourne for a seafront criterium, was definitely a lesson in problems not podiums. 


Control that which is controllable, because racing is anything but.  


Waterloo was full of people dressed up for the races.
And there I was, heading to the races too, but instead I was wearing lycra, sipping coffee like it was champagne, donning a Rapha cap as my fascinator and with 15-1 odds of getting my ass kicked. 


Swooning over the seafront was soon replaced with pre-race panic when I saw how technical the circuit was with corners as sharp as my tan lines. 


Where there is a bike there is a ball ache.
60 minutes before the race one of the tubeless tyres I was riding burst. 

I then ripped my skinsuit in a public toilet, whilst trying to pin my number on.
 I couldn't find anywhere to buy water and there was nowhere to store my bag.
 It felt like a finish line when I finally made it to the start line. 

1600 40 MINUTES + 5 LAPS

Fast. Technical. Painful. Repeat. 


Ass officially kicked. Finished 6th.
I cycled off the course avoiding the white dress of a bride who was watching the race, picked up my bag and headed to the station.
I spent the 2 hour journey home disappointed and over analysing the race. 
Gin and tonic please. 

Sometimes it's just not your day. But inbetween the issues and the oil stained tissues, there's  moments that mean more than a medal. I strengthened my ability to ignore my ego. I'm now clued up on tubeless tyres. I was made aware of how far I have to go on this racing journey, and that's ok. I was reminded that if I'm feeling tired, it means I need to rest, not give up. I learnt that no matter how strong your backpack tetris skills are, your yoghurt can still explode on the train home... Thanks Eastbourne for the sun, the type II fun* and for reminding me that race days can sometimes be a beach. 

Strava link
*Type II fun: Sucks the entire time you are doing it, but you are excited to either brag about it at the bar later or look back on it and value it as a character-building episode.  




Photojournal of a four day training trip to Mallorca.



"How many people does it take to fit three bikes into the back of a VW golf?"

Bike hire: Rapha Mallorca
Car hir: Gold Car
Hotel: HSM Lago Park Apartments



Strava link



Strava link



Strava link



Strava link


Days: 4
KM: 355km

Climbed: 4,700m
Punctures: 0
Ice creams: 8
Boxes of granola: 3
Ride bars: Lost count
Films watched: 1
Bike Computer: Wahoo Bolt



Palma De Mallorca. With high amounts of switchback porn and cycling racks outside each cafe, it's an island built for cyclists. Ride, eat, drink, repeat - my holiday zen. 

This week, I travelled over with a group of 13 who were completely new to mountains. By day, varying ability on the bike. But by night, a shared expertise of good food and large alcohol consumption. 

Below is the holiday's top fives, covering riding, eating and planning. Simple information designed for those who are also heading out for the first time and need to know some of the best and none of the overly complicated rest:  


1. Ride Formentor. The infamous climb to the lighthouse and back. There are goats en route. It's often windy. Stop at the top for coffee, cake or savoury snacks but be aware that the queue often takes as long as the climb.
2. Ride to Campanet. For a rest or easy day, this is a flat and scenic route. Stop in the square for coffee or lunch. Cortado was 4/10.
3. Ride the Lluc loop. 8km switchback climb that never gets too steep. 25km from Pollenca, there is a 'splash and dash' coffee stop before you reach the mountain. The climb finishes at the petrol station where you'll be met with a zoo of other riders. If your legs are asking for more, you can answer with a Formentor finish.

4. Take on Sa Calobra. The legendary and beautiful climb. It's a bumpy and big day out but you're spoilt with views, smooth tarmac roads and plenty of coffee along the way. 

5. Enjoy Pollenca to Palma for a tourist day out. We did the route to drop our bikes off at Rapha and followed the Ma-13A. Flat and fast. Get an ice-cream in Palma and then ride back. Route:


1. Visit Tollos restaurant, Port De Pollenca. Part owned by Brad Wiggins. The chips and dip starter is a winner. Book a table in advance. 

2. Visit Rapha. Have the flat white. Joe also recommends the carrot cake. If you need ride leaders, they also host weekly rides. 

3. Visit Cappucino, Port De Pollenca. Great lunch or breakfast stop. Varied modern menu including eggs and avocado on toast for anyone craving London life. 

4. Visit The Braserie. Located at the bottom of Col de Fem. Amazing home cut chips. Shandies are a bit odd - cloudy lemonade rather than normal lemonade. Embrace it. 

5. Do a Supermarket trip at the start of your holiday. We spent 50 euros and got all the provisions you need, including too much gin.


1. Get a taxi from the city, not the airport, if possible. Approx 80 euros into Pollenca, including bikes. 

2. If you're an RCC member, hire your bikes from Rapha. Otherwise, try Procyclehire. They have mechanics, a bike shop, pumps outside for anyone to use and a cafe. 

3. Have your routes in a spreadsheet, so you can be flexible if the weather changes. The island has everything from 50km flat routes to 150km+ mountainous rides - enough web and strava stalking and you'll discover them all. 

4. Bring playing cards. After a long ride, there's nothing better than sitting in the sun and playing Gin Rummy whilst drinking it too.
5. Bring layers. Mallorca can drop a thunderstorm at any mile. A few of us were wearing a musette of regret as we descended without arm warmers or gilets.

Next week, I travel back to the cycling love island. A mini training camp with the girls ahead of L'Etape. Our spreadsheet is printed, whatsapp group created and the holiday hashtag is confirmed. Onwards to #VueltaGranola. 



Friendships are unique. You have the one you cry with. The one you laugh with. The one you drink with. The one you often end up in trouble with. Then, there’s the one you cycle with. These friendships are built on a base of long, sustained hours together, emotional journeys both physically and emotionally, and a constant sharing of pain and food (two things that we often keep to ourselves). These friends see you at your worst and at your best, and often the distance between the two is only one hill apart.


We don’t ask ‘does my bum looks big in this?’. We just take a photo and show that, 99% of the time, it does. #foreverbuttphotos

We know each others coffee and breakfast preferences and can reel them out with military precision.

We often spend all day together. Waking up ridiculous early to meet, rather than stumbling in stupidly late (sometimes both).

We rarely see each other with our hair down and make up on. When we do, we don’t recognise each other. 

The constant new roads, landscapes and coffee shops often create stories we annoyingly relay in front of people who weren't there. 

We get to know each other quicker than usual because as soon as you start pedalling, there’s no filter to what stories you tell.

We show our loyalties by taking a turn on the front, strategically slowing down the pace or using bad chat as distraction. True ‘cycle friends’ know there’s a sensitive time and place for each. 

We're at our most creative when deciding the name for our Strava upload. 

We believe that seeing each other at 6am during the week is absolutely normal. 

We pee in a bush. And not because we’re drunk in the middle of a festival field. We’re sober, on the side of a main road. 

We talk about things like chamois cream... And saddle sore. 

We suddenly think wearing matching clothes is a team necessity not a fashion tragedy. 

To the girls who are not just my ‘cycling friends’, but are now some of my best friends: thanks for the plans, the purpose and the endless photographs that are forever unflattering. Together we’ve dealt with life problems, punctures and my pathetic sulks when we end up off-road. Whether it’s the up and down of a lane or of life, I’m glad I’m wearing your often strange but forever hilarious friendship ring for the ride. 



The female cycling community is small yet mighty. It’s women questioning routine and finding the courage to be uncomfortable whilst discovering more about the world and themselves. Over three consecutive days - Regents Park with The 5th Floor girls, racing at Hillingdon against Cat 4 women and a 70km Hertfordshire loop with Sarah - I was reminded that these ‘normal’ women are anything but, and are experiencing life in a way that deserves to be heard. 

Friday 0630

Whilst London was sleeping, we were riding to Regents Park. Sitting on the top tube waiting for the traffic lights to change, I spotted Sophie, knowing she’d beat the cold weather, inner demons and the end of week exhaustion to be there. It was the same excitement as when you used to knock for your friends, but instead of ‘after school’, it was ‘before work’ playtime. Squad assemble.

Friday 0715

We were riding laps, two abreast. I was next to someone I’d never met before, discussing ambitions for racing and plans for the year. Meeting and making new friends as an adult is tough. We deem it too daunting or embarrassing (coming from the world that thinks Tinder is perfectly acceptable). Cycling breaks those barriers.  

Friday 0730

I heard about the morning routine everyone had to honour to make sure they could complete training whilst getting to work on time. Prioritising, and finding purpose, from their 0600-0900 not just their 0900-1800.

Friday 0815

We rolled up to Workshop Coffee, faces covered in mud, taking over the seating area as we began unlayering and pausing our Wahoo GPS devices. It’s comrarderie courtesy of caffeine, whilst commuters look on with confusion. I'm sure they were thinking 'Is that the cycling equivalent of the Taylor Swift squad?!’ Yes. But this is one squad where anyone is welcome.

Saturday 1145

I turned up to the race surrounded by women unpacking their carefully assembled race bags. From food in tupperware to chamois cream we hope hadn’t exploded, a silent kudos is shared appreciating the success of making it to the start line amidst all the internal and external barriers.

Saturday 1230

The unglamorous toilets set the scene for last minute faff. One of the women helped me as I struggled to pin my number on (good start KPP). A humbling act of consideration before competition. 

Saturday 1320

During the race, we worked together to bridge the gap between the rider who attacked. A moment where complete strangers have each others back, and the unspoken thank you (a nod of the head) connects you with humans in a unique sporting way.

Saturday 1400

The post-race adrenaline high gives you permission to be positive. We shared compliments and congratulated one another on an experience only we had shared.

Sunday 0800

I met Sarah for a Hertfordshire ride. It was cold and it was early, yet we’ve trained ourselves to accepting this as normal. Surrounding yourself with great people expands your view on the world, and suddenly you realise your new ‘normal’ is much more than that.  

Sunday 0930

We took turns on the front, supporting each other when we were both depleted and broken. Experiencing these extreme emotions on the bike makes us more caring people off the bike (which hopefully balances out the ridezilla that appeared when I was hungry and pathetic half way up yet another hill). 

Sunday 1130

An endurance style breakfast of eggs, avo, mushroom, tomatoes and toast finished the ride. Instead of exchanging pointless gossip, we exchanged the salt and pepper and ideas for our next ride. Cyclists may suffer, but it results in moments of deep gratitude and contentment. An emotional pattern that becomes addictive amongst those that have experienced it.

Women change the world daily. They can often be unsung heroes, with full time jobs, who are finding time to better themselves and reduce the distance between other females. It’s a vast world but when we ride together it’s a friendly one. 

So to the female superheroes, the wild ones with wardrobes that can sometimes prioritise lycra over the little black dress, your strength is infectious and I’m proud to spend these moments surrounded by you all. Keep riding, keep finding and keep saying no to being normal.