Olympic and world champion, Katie Archibald got into cycling after winning handicap races on a Highland Games grass track. She writes a column for Cycling Weekly each week
I’m moving house today. If you tell me I can’t ride my bike I insist my collarbone is entirely healed; fully functional; maybe actually stronger than it was before (I broke it three weeks ago).
Tell me I need to pick up that box full of crap and the bone begins to throb. Tell me I need to throw the crap out instead and my heart aches. Today is going to be painful.
I’m moving in with my boyfriend. You know him; Gus, Angus, once traitor Madison partner now sweet companion. He just got a job in Manchester (which is where I’m based as a member of the British Cycling Olympic programme) and so we’re teeing ourselves up for disaster and choosing to share living quarters.
I’m very excited. I don’t get to watch as much daytime TV as you might expect a professional sports person would, so the extra drama will be welcome.
The new house is huge, also. Three bedrooms. That means we can fall out and both go and stay in separate rooms, leaving any guests to suffer the toxicity of the main bedroom. There’s also a basement and a double garage which was my main motive for the move: more bike space.
I’m done with stacking bikes behind one another. My life is bikes hung neatly on hooks from now on and my turbo trainer won’t be a main feature of the dining room. This drastic change in feng shui might be just the marginal gain I need to make it to Tokyo 2020.
The year 2020 also being the next time I will even consider moving again. And once it’s been considered I hope I don’t do it. Collarbone or no, packing my life into 12 suitcases and realising that’s only half has been a struggle.
The move has revealed me as a hoarder and I can’t imagine moving into a bigger house is going to help me turn that off.
Maybe resisting another house move (training with the Olympic squad being the reason I live in Manchester) will be the motivation I need to try and make it to a third Games.
We’re going to have to think of a more inspiring lie for when I write an autobiography though.