The Big Read | The quantum shift of a champion cyclist

“The race of your life doesn’t happen when everything is perfect — it happens when you trust that what’s within you is far greater than what’s against you!”

In physics, a quantum shift is the movement of an electron from one energy level to another — a sudden and significant transition.

Likewise, in life, a small shift in consciousness can lead to a profound transformation in your external reality. When you elevate your awareness, you step into the highest version of yourself, creating ripple effects that reshape your world.

The first part of 2008 went reasonably well as far as my racing was concerned, but after some disappointing race results, I retreated into what I called my “hibernating bear” state — enjoying comfort food and relaxed training during Cape Town’s rainy winter. Having skipped the previous year’s World Championships to focus on Consciousness Coaching, I assumed I wouldn’t be considered for selection. Then, on 21 July, the unexpected arrived: an invitation to compete in the UCI Masters World Road Championships in St Johann from August 24–31.

When I received the news, I felt a surge of adrenaline and my heart skipped a beat. Despite my excitement, my mind said: “No; you’re crazy — you know what it’s like there. You need to be in peak form to even stand a chance of getting onto the podium. Look at you — you’re ‘overweight’ and unfit; you don’t deserve to go!” But there was no time to hesitate. Despite not being race-ready, I decided to follow my gut feeling that said: “Yes! Let’s do this!”

That’s when reality hit me. I had little more than four weeks to get into the best possible physical condition for racing. It was basically damage control, but it had to be done. I phoned my cycling coach at that time, Peter Wright, and explained that I had to get into shape without overdoing it. He put together a plan and I got to work. I was fully committed — I had to use every opportunity available, even if it meant doing hill intervals in the pouring rain!

The practical arrangements fell into place with surprising ease. My friend and fellow cyclist David Garrett, who was also racing the World Champs, offered to drive from St Johann to Munich to collect me, solving the logistical challenge that had troubled me in previous years.

It felt as if the universe was conspiring to help, though I still needed to do the inner work. Arriving in St Johann, the atmosphere felt different this time. The familiar excitement of the international cycling festival was amplified by a large contingent of South African cyclists. The World Cup race on Monday, August 25, would prove to be a crucial teacher; it was an important race, as it gave one a good indication of both one’s own form and that of the other competitors.

Despite knowing the route well, I hit the wall on the first climb, dropping back to the second bunch. I thought: “There you have it — your performance has equalled your state of fitness.” While I managed to win the sprint to the line within my group, the overall performance left me slumped over my handlebars in disappointment. It was then that fellow cyclist Graeme Cronje approached, steadied me, looked me in the eye and said: “Cathy, take out your winning files!” I knew he was right — I had work to do.

That evening I called my mother. Trying to be positive, I started with: “Mom, I won my sprint …”, but before I could explain that it was only the sprint of the second bunch, she responded ecstatically: ”My Darling, I knew you would win!” She had always underplayed my achievements, so I was quite taken aback by her comment and decided that I had better not let her down now!

The next day, despite having to tape my painful left knee, I joined my friends on an outing. David, Susan, Chris, Jolandi and I went on a tourist excursion to Swarovski Crystal World near Innsbruck. The otherworldly crystal displays might have seemed a distraction before the World Championship race, but they created space for what would happen next.

The race had demonstrated that physical preparation, while essential, is only part of the equation. The real quantum shift happens when we dare to challenge our limiting beliefs, when we align our thoughts with our highest possibilities, and when we trust in something greater than our doubts.

That evening, alone in my hotel room, I was finally able to be quiet. I sat on the floor, thinking about what Graeme had said about taking out my winning files. In that moment I realised: “Yes, of course, that’s what I need to do!” All the consciousness training, all the books, all the inner work — this was the moment to apply it. I took out a sheet of paper and drew two columns. In one, I listed every negative, sabotaging thought. In the other, I wrote corresponding positive, empowering statements. As I completed this simple but powerful exercise, something extraordinary happened. I got up off the floor and, as I walked past the mirror in the room, I glanced at myself and saw a light — almost a twinkle — in my eye, and I knew: “Tomorrow I will ride the race of my life!”

When I got to the start line the next day, Wednesday, August 27 2008, I was calm but focused. There were ladies from all over the world: France, Germany, the Netherlands, Norway, Canada, Russia, the USA, and Great Britain. The largest contingent was from Italy with five riders, but the favourite was the French cyclist Claudia Saintagne, who had beaten me twice before.

The race unfolded like a meditation in motion. Just 4km in, I attacked the first climb at a ferocious pace, dropping Claudia by four bike lengths. She fought back before the steeper second climb, launching an attack that sent my heart rate soaring, but I stayed glued to her wheel. Through technical sections and over cobblestones, the Italian team tried to disrupt our rhythm, but I remained perfectly focused, moving through the pack like water.

With 3km to go, I found myself pushed to the back of the bunch at the worst possible moment — approaching a complex section with a railway crossing, multiple intersections, and sharp bends.

In previous years this might have spelled defeat. Instead, a calm certainty arose within me: “No, this is not how it’s meant to be!”

Throwing caution to the wind, knowing the finish line was still almost a kilometre away, I raced to the front of the bunch. I took the lead with just over 500m to go and accelerated with so much effort that the handlebars started shaking, like a speed wobble when going down a steep hill. But nothing was going to stop me, and I flew over the line, finally taking the victory.

I completed the 45km course in 1:06:05, with Claudia Saintagne (France) and Patrizia Spadaccini (Italy) taking second and third places. We had averaged 36.2km/h, but time itself seemed to have a different quality.

That race was an experience of a lifetime, like touching heaven — flying, focused, and at one with the bike. I never needed to think; I just knew what to do, as if I was on autopilot. The pace was unrelentingly intense; in fact, I’ve never since recorded such a high average heart rate (174bpm), but I hardly felt the effort. It felt as though I had “conquered” myself, risen above myself, and after that moment I knew that anything was possible.

That evening’s prize-giving ceremony transcended all my previous podium experiences. As I stood on the top step, watching the South African flag rise to the sound of Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika, every emotion possible coursed through me — joy, gratitude, humility, awe.

The finish area erupted with celebration — hugs, shrieks, and tears of joy from my friends and fellow South African cyclists.

Later, David Garrett, Chris Botha, and Moolman Welgemoed bundled me into a car and we drove up the mountain to have a celebratory drink at a quaint little restaurant. It was quite a drive, with many twists and turns. We must have been at least halfway up when one of the guys asked: “Did you report to anti-doping?”

As I had not won a UCI race before, I was unaware of this protocol, and that winners must report to anti-doping within an hour after the race or face disqualification. I said: “No.” The car was turned around and we raced down, at pace, to the official tent. We made it back with minutes to spare, only to be told it was not necessary to be tested! We were grateful that all was in order and went back up the mountain to enjoy our drinks in peace.

Every evening there was a prize-giving for the day’s races. All the competitors would congregate in the village square to support and cheer for each other. It was an impressive affair with rows of flags representing the participating nations, and the tables alongside the podium were filled with magnificent trophies and medals. The master of ceremonies was very charismatic and able to speak several languages. When he announced the winner, he would build up the hype using titles in various languages.

That evening’s prize-giving ceremony transcended all my previous podium experiences. As I stood on the top step, watching the South African flag rise to the sound of Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika, every emotion possible coursed through me — joy, gratitude, humility, awe. Then, in a moment that perfectly captured the day’s lesson, I simply let go and allowed every cell in my body to celebrate.

This victory represented more than just a cycling achievement. It demonstrated what becomes possible when we align body, mind, and spirit — when we’re 100% committed to our goal while remaining completely unattached to the outcome. I had discovered that peak performance comes not from desperate desire but from a place of presence and trust.

That evening, a special group of fellow cycling friends from home celebrated together. It was wonderful to enjoy the moment with everyone and have the opportunity to be a bit crazy and have fun.

The next day, I noticed a subtle but significant shift in my fellow South African teammates. It was as if my victory had meant more than another gold medal — it had expanded their sense of what was possible. When someone you know and train with achieves something remarkable, it somehow makes your own dreams feel more attainable.

As John Kehoe writes in Quantum Warrior, “My failure helps no-one, but my success helps many.”

This victory had proven something I’d learned through Consciousness Coaching but had now experienced at the deepest level: we achieve our greatest successes when we find that perfect balance between total commitment and complete surrender. It’s a state where we give everything we have while remaining unattached to the outcome — what some might call being in “flow” or “the zone”, and what I had come to understand as alignment with universal consciousness.

The race had demonstrated that physical preparation, while essential, is only part of the equation. The real quantum shift happens when we dare to challenge our limiting beliefs, when we align our thoughts with our highest possibilities, and when we trust in something greater than our doubts. That simple exercise of transforming negative thoughts into empowering ones in my hotel room had been as crucial to the victory as all the hill training in Cape Town’s winter rain.

Most importantly, this wasn’t just about winning a bicycle race. The principles that had taken me from “hibernating bear” to World Champion in four weeks could be applied to any goal, any dream, any challenge.

When we combine disciplined action with consciousness principles — when we’re willing to do both the outer and inner work — anything truly is possible. We are all capable of so much more than we imagine, not just in sport but in every aspect of life.

That moment on the podium was the culmination of countless people’s support, belief, and investment in my journey. As the reality of becoming World Champion settled in, what overwhelmed me most wasn’t pride, but a profound sense of gratitude.