My head matters: from crash to comeback
Hi, I'm Yilla Threels, a cyclist from the Netherlands, born and raised in the city of Woerden. This is my story of how in a blink of an eye, your life and dreams can change. And how you recover.
Growing up, sports were woven into the fabric of my family life. Surrounded by siblings and parents who were always active, I started with field hockey, but my passion truly ignited watching my dad compete in cycling races on courses that looped around the hockey fields. At 11, I decided to give road racing a try at the same club where he rode—WTC Woerden. Like every Dutch kid, I was already biking to school and the fields daily, but this was different: the thrill of a race bike. My dad figured it was just a phase, but here I am, 10 years later, still riding my bike. I even moved out to develop at the Watersley Sports & Talent Park, joining the Watersley Cycling Team as an U23 rider. For years, my bike was never untouched for more than a week, until last year shattered that routine.
On March 13, 2024, during a team training ride, disaster struck with just 10 kilometers to go. A mistake in the group caused a rider to fall, taking me down with them. I landed face-first on the pavement. At first, I seemed okay, though I was acting strangely. They bundled me into the team car, and that's when the fog descended. I kept repeating the same question: "What happened?" Five hours later, I "woke up" in a scan machine, but the truth is, I was conscious the whole time; I just have no memory of those hours, or even many days leading up to the crash. The diagnosis: a fractured skull, a broken eye socket in two places, a severe concussion, and a small brain bleed.
I was sent home after a hospital stay, and in my optimism, I immediately started plotting my comeback with my dad: fixing the bike, ordering a new helmet, planning rides as if I'd be back in the saddle within a month. Reality hit hard. Constant, debilitating headaches plagued me; lights, noises, even everyday stimuli amplified the pain. It was utterly exhausting. Four months passed before I felt strong enough to begin rehab. When I shared my goal of returning to cycling, the initial specialists dismissed it as unrealistic, especially racing in a peloton. But I refused to accept that. With my friend Leonie and the supportive staff from Watersley and my parents who had been by my side from the moment of the accident. we sought alternatives. We found the right fit at the National Football Federation's rehab center, where I received tailored guidance from psychologists, occupational therapists, and physiotherapists. Their trust in my recovery fueled me, and after six grueling months, I finally touched my bike again.
My first ride was with my friend Ilse. She guided me to the nearest coffee spot, just 10 minutes away, where we sat because fatigue overtook me.. Fast-forward eight months, and now Ilse and I train side by side not as guide and guided, but as equals pushing each other forward.
Amid this recovery, I faced another blow: my U23 team was folding. I wasn't riding, had no recent results, and felt vulnerable. Then, CJ O'Shea entered the picture and offered me a shot with a new team. To this day, I'm so grateful. The team is incredibly supportive, kind and inclusive. Unlike other situations where I've been treated differently due to my accident, here I feel safe, normal, and trusted. That environment has not only helped me heal but has elevated me to a better rider than before the crash.
Today, I train and race normally again, but the aftermath lingers. I still battle daily pain and remain vulnerable to noises and high-stimulation environments. Yet, I've adapted, found coping strategies, and believe I can continue improving.
My story has a positive arc, even with ongoing challenges I had a great environment to help me recover, but not every cyclist's tale ends this way. Daily accidents in our sport claim careers and lives, often because head injuries aren't taken seriously enough. This is where I want to raise a voice for awareness: brain injuries like concussions are invisible wounds that isolate you in profound ways. They're lonely because no one can see the storm inside your head, the constant fatigue, the sensory overload and other damage. It's incredibly hard to understand, accept, and manage because you're stuck with it for a long time or life, and every case is unique. Some riders shake off a concussion in days or weeks; others, like me, endure months or years of recovery. I see it too often: athletes crashing on their heads, brushing it off, pushing through the pain, only to face prolonged or permanent consequences.
We must change this. Proper guidance is crucial but hard to find standard protocols don't always fit, and dismissing symptoms can lead to irreversible damage. As cyclists, we owe it to ourselves and each other to prioritise head safety: wear safe helmets religiously, seek immediate medical evaluation after impacts, and never rush recovery. Teams, coaches, and federations need to foster environments where reporting symptoms isn't seen as weakness but as strength. Invisible injuries deserve visible support through education, research, and resources tailored to athletes. If my experience can spotlight this, perhaps fewer riders will suffer in silence.
Finally, I want to extend my deepest thanks to my team for their belief in me; to my family and friends, whose love carried me through the darkest days; and to Watersley for their support from crash to comeback. Together, we've proven that with the right help, even the hardest breaks can be mended.
Let's keep the conversation going. Your brain is worth protecting.
