Robyn Clay interview: the sufferer’s road to the pro ranks

In Robyn Clay’s bedroom, a bundle of race numbers hangs loosely from her wardrobe door. Each one carries a scrawl of biro — a journal entry of sorts, a reflection on how each race went.

It’s a quiet collection, ordinary and remarkable at once — a diary told in digits. “If it’s been good or bad and I’ve learned from it, I’ll keep it,” she says. The numbers stretch back through crashes, comebacks and all the moments in between; each a memento of a small battle survived.

Twelve months ago, when we last spoke, Clay was still clawing her way back from a turbulent 2024. Her body was mending after a broken collarbone, her confidence fragile. She talked then about fear — of falling again, of losing her chance, of watching another season slip away. This year, the tone is different. The fear has given way to something steadier: calm, deliberate confidence.

It was rubbish at the time but in hindsight it was a blessing in disguis

2025 began much the same way as the year before — with injury. A ten-week Achilles lay-off that could easily have broken her rhythm. “It was rubbish at the time,” she admits, recalling long, slow days in Mallorca watching her DAS-Hutchinson teammates head out on training rides while she was confined to gentle recovery spins. “But in hindsight it was a blessing in disguise. It meant I was going well at the right times rather than too early.”

The difference was in her reaction. Where once she might have spiralled into panic, this time she waited. The enforced pause became a kind of discipline — a lesson in patience that would define her season. When the legs finally came good, they came good at the right moments: victories at the Tour of the Reservoir, the Otley Grand Prix and the Guildford Town Centre Races spearheaded her charge towards a historic treble — overall wins in the National Circuit Series, National Road Series and the inaugural Rapha Super-League. And, in the spring rain of Bohemia, her first UCI stage win at the Tour de Féminin.

By then, the numbers on her wall were starting to tell a different story — not of recovery, but of arrival. And of the achievement of a dream: a professional contract.

One the eve her Team PicNic–PostNL transfer announcement, The British Continental caught up with Clay to reflect on her remarkable year.

Her season began well, despite her injury-delayed start. Fifth at the CiCLE Classic — a race that rewards nerve and cunning as much as raw power — confirmed her recovery. Then came the Rapha Lincoln Grand Prix, where she finished fourth in a race where she tasted victory in 2023, the city’s cobbles and cathedral climb as punishing as ever. “I wanted more, of course,” she says, “but looking at my prep, I was really happy. The girls that beat me were flying, so I couldn’t be too upset.”

A few days later in Czechia, Clay’s season properly ignited on Stage 3 of the Tour de Féminin. The rain in Bohemia came down hard — steady, relentless, the kind that soaks through everything. The roads were slick, the racing as attritional as it gets.

“Kate Richardson attacked on the climb, and I went with her,” she recalls, her tone calm, analytical. “There were four of us at first, then one got dropped. On one of the descents I opened quite a big gap, so I pushed on, knowing there was another QOM climb coming up. Either I’d get a head start on the climb or stay away to the finish.”

She didn’t stay away — not quite. “They caught me at the top, which actually helped,” she says. “We worked together after that, and it came down to a sprint. It was me and Kate in the end.”

Clay won that sprint, sealed not by a single dazzling surge but by the cumulative logic of a rider who had learned how to measure herself. “I wanted to win that day,” she says. “I went all in for it. But it’s never a given, is it?”

There are so many things that have to line up. The weather, the legs, the confidence. That day it all just worked

“I think I kind of knew it was possible if everything went right,” she says. “But there are so many things that have to line up. The weather, the legs, the confidence. That day it all just worked.”

For those who have followed her career, it felt like the natural outcome of a slow-burning progression — the moment when everything clicked. For Clay, though, it was the first box ticked of a three-part plan set months earlier in the margins of a notebook.

Ahead of the 2025 season, supported by The Cyclists’ Alliance and a Strava grant, she was asked to set three goals. Modest, achievable, specific. The kind of goals that build momentum rather than overwhelm it. “One was to score UCI points in three separate races,” she says. “Another was to podium at the National Time Trial Championships. And the last was to turn professional by the end of the year.”

By midsummer, all three boxes were ticked.

The Cyclists’ Alliance support offered more than just financial help, Clay says. It gave her structure — and something rarer still in a sport that often consumes its own: a space to pause, reflect, and plan. “The grant just took the pressure off,” she says. “It meant I didn’t have to work as much through the winter. I could go to Belgium and not panic about money for travel or food or kit. You don’t realise how much it all costs until you step back.”

The mentorship element proved equally valuable. Each rider was paired with an experienced guide — someone to help them navigate the unspoken realities of the sport. “We had monthly one-to-one calls,” Clay explains. “We’d talk about everything — sleep, stress, confidence. Whatever you needed help with. And they’ve got people who can help with contracts, finances, even visas. It’s not just about racing; it’s about being supported as a person.”

The lessons she was learning off the bike — about patience, balance and trust — were beginning to show on it too.

In cycling, the time trial is known as the race of truth — a test without excuses, a pure measure of what’s left when the noise falls away. For Clay, it became exactly that — and, as she says without hesitation, the highlight of her season.

“Nationals,” she says simply. “That was the one.”

It’s not a discipline she’s known for. Before this season she’d raced only one proper time trial on a TT bike — at the U23 National Time Trial Championships a couple of years earlier, when she’d finished a single second off the podium. “My dad’s always told me I’m built for time trials,” she smiles. “But it’s never really been my focus. I’ve only done a handful, really.”

My dad’s always told me I’m built for time trials. But it’s never really been my focus. I’ve only done a handful, really

When she rolled up to the start line this June, her preparation was as makeshift as her equipment. “Most of what I was riding wasn’t mine,” she admits. “The wheels, the frame, the bars — all borrowed. I think the only bits I owned were the pedals, cranks, and skis.” She says it with a laugh, but the image is telling: a rider patching together a setup from generosity and goodwill, relying on the kindness of others as much as her own legs.

She hadn’t even had the chance to train much on the bike. “It’s such an expensive discipline,” she says. “You can’t really afford to practise like the pros do. I just used the TT bike when I could, on the turbo, trying to get comfortable.”

The start list that day read like a roll call of British talent — Clay would need to best established WorldTour riders and full-time professionals to reach the podium. “I thought, I’ll just ride my plan perfectly,” she says. “If I do that, whatever happens, I’ll be happy.”

Out on course, she found that rare, elusive flow — when the body and the machine seem to move as one, and the effort feels almost pure. “Everything just clicked,” she says. “Even if the result hadn’t been good, I couldn’t have gone any faster.”

When the times came in, Clay sat second behind Millie Couzens – who won the National Road Championships road race later that week – and ahead of a host of big names. For a few long minutes she waited under the tent, convinced someone would edge her out. No one did. “I couldn’t believe it,” she says, laughing softly at the memory. “I knew Millie had beaten me, but when someone told me I was second, I just couldn’t believe it.”

The time trial gave me confidence that I’m strong enough

For Clay, that silver medal was far more than a line on a results sheet. It was confirmation — that she could compete with the best, that resilience could make up for resource, that strength built in adversity can hold its own on any stage. “The time trial gave me confidence that I’m strong enough,” she says. “It’s the test. The race of truth.”

What followed was a summer of domestic dominance. Clay went on to complete a historic treble — the National Road Series, the National Circuit Series, and the first-ever Rapha Super League. No rider had ever managed it before.

Just ahead of the Nationals, at the Tour of the Reservoir, fought out on the wild, wind-scoured moors of County Durham, she rode with the assurance of someone who had finally worked out how to win on her own terms. “There was nowhere to hide,” she says. “It was one of those hard, honest courses. But I felt good — stronger than I’d ever felt on the climbs.”

From there, she was almost unstoppable. Through July and August, her name became a fixture at the sharp end of every major domestic race — on the road, in town centres, on circuits bathed in late-summer light. She won with guile, with patience, and with a strength that seemed to grow deeper as the season wore on.

With wins on multiple terrains, what kind of rider does that make Clay?

“I can sprint, but I’m not a sprinter,” she ponders. “I can climb, but I’m not a climber. Maybe my rider type is just… a sufferer.”

The Rapha Super-League became the thread that bound it all together – a 16-round season-long contest that rewarded consistency, resilience, and racecraft over showy one-day glory. For months, Clay had quietly amassed points while others surged, faltered, and fell away. But as the final round approached, her lead was by no means cast-iron.

“That one was the tightest of all,” she says of the Wentworth Woodhouse Grand Prix. “I only had about seventeen points on Anna Morris going into the last round.”

It came down to the wire. “Once we were racing, I just focused on the race,” Clay remembers. “I knew she’d be someone to watch at the finish. It just so happened I was on her wheel.”

I couldn’t quite believe it. After all the rounds, all the travel, it came down to one place

Morris crossed the line in fifth, Clay just behind in seventh – a margin so fine that for a few moments, she wasn’t sure which way it had gone. “Jess [Morgan] told me I’d won it in the post-race interview,” she says. “I couldn’t quite believe it. After all the rounds, all the travel, it came down to one place.”

She’d done exactly what was required — nothing more, nothing less. The Rapha Super-League was hers by just five points. A fitting climax to a summer defined by precision and poise. Her treble — the National Road Series, the National Circuit Series, and the inaugural Rapha Super-League — was unprecedented: a statement of quiet dominance in a discipline where consistency is often undervalued.

“It’s about showing up every week,” she says. “Being consistent, being there.”

By August, Robyn Clay had little left to prove on British roads. She had become the rider others measured themselves against, the one whose presence shaped a race before the flag even dropped. But away from the bike, another race was quietly unfolding — one fought not on tarmac but in inboxes.

“I don’t have an agent,” she says. “I just pester everyone.”

It’s an image that undercuts the glamour of turning professional: a rider hunched over a laptop between races, drafting emails to teams between recovery shakes and washing loads. “You make a CV, send it out, try to sell yourself,” she says. “It’s uncomfortable, but it’s what you have to do to get noticed.”

It was stressful. If I couldn’t get paid to do it next year, I’d have to get a full-time job. So yeah, there was pressure

After years of living season to season – part-time jobs through the winter – the stakes felt high. She was turning twenty-two, about to age out of the under-23 category, aware that opportunities narrow fast in a sport still finding its feet on equality. “It was stressful,” she admits. “If I couldn’t get paid to do it next year, I’d have to get a full-time job. So yeah, there was pressure.”

Clay can’t point to one specific performance that made the difference in her search. It was more the cumulative effect of successive successes. The Tour de Féminin win helped. So did her national time-trial silver and her top-30 at the Tour of Britain. Each result became another line in her self-written pitch: evidence of range, resilience, readiness. “A string of solid results — that’s what made the difference, I think,” she says. “Showing I could hang on in the bigger races, but also that I knew how to win at home.”

By early August, one of those emails landed in the right inbox. The team already knew her; she had done testing with them a couple of years earlier. “I sent over my time-trial file,” she says. “They were happy enough with that.”

Now, as this article goes to print, the news is official: Robyn Clay has signed with Team PicNic–PostNL, joining the Dutch Women’s WorldTour squad for the 2026 season. It’s her first professional contract – a long-awaited step into the European peloton, and a natural progression for a rider who has quietly become one of Britain’s most complete all-rounders.

“The relief was massive,” she says. “It was just… a weight off. Everything I’d been working towards finally clicked.”

For the first time in her career, Clay can now call herself a full-time cyclist. “It means I can give up my job and really focus on the sport,” she says. “I can recover properly, train properly, not be constantly juggling things.”

Her winter will look very different this time. After a short break — two weeks off, followed by a frustrating bout of COVID that extended it to nearly three — she’s easing back into training. “I’m on a steady build-up now,” she says. “Doing a bit of track because I’m racing the London Three Day, just to get some intensity back in the legs.”

Soon, her life will shift again — away from home roads to new landscapes. “I’ll be based abroad some of the time next year,” she confirms, careful not to reveal too much yet. “I can’t say where, but it’ll be exciting.”

She talks about the move with curiosity, not bravado. “I can’t wait,” she says. “I’m just excited to learn, really. I know that basically all of the girls I’ll be surrounded by are more experienced than I am, and that I’ve got a lot to learn from them. I just want to pick their brains, get stuck in, and find my place.”

I know that basically all of the girls I’ll be surrounded by are more experienced than I am, and that I’ve got a lot to learn from them. I just want to pick their brains, get stuck in, and find my place

There’s a humility to her ambition — an understanding that turning professional isn’t an arrival, but another beginning. “It’s going to be a big step,” she says, “but that’s what I’ve been building towards.”

Back home in Leeds, the bib numbers still hang from the wardrobe door. Each one carries a scrawl of biro — a private shorthand of effort and emotion. Somewhere down the line, she’ll add another: her first race as a professional, the start of a new collection. “I’ll definitely keep that one,” she says, smiling.

“In 2027 the Tour de France Femmes starts in Leeds,” she says, eyes brightening at the thought. “That’s home. To race there one day — that would be pretty special.”

It’s not a boast, or even a plan — more a statement of quiet intent. The kind that fits the rhythm of her story: one step, one season, one number at a time.

And when that day comes — if and when she makes the start line in her home city, cheered on by familiar voices — there’ll be another number waiting for a place on the wardrobe door. A new line in biro. A new chapter in a story still being written, in neat, unhurried handwriting.

Featured image: Alex Whitehead/SWpix.com