It's been a theme running through my mind over these past 5 weeks in Italy, with ample time in cars, vans, shabby motels and team houses for thinking and concluding.

The Age writer Sam de Brito in his All Men Are Liars column has reminded me of this in his most recent column about individuality, but also in an earlier one about the Five Truths of Man (which can be applied to all humans, methinks). He surmises that the sooner we accept that we are more ordinary and 'un-special' we are, the sooner we'll be happier with our lives.

This was further reiterated in a fabulous book called 'Stumbling on Happiness' by the psychologist, Daniel Gilbert. We are all very similar, in this western world existence we inhabit. We all seek to be unique or different in some way to be happy, but how can we be?

(Aside: this reminds me of the great Freakonomics chapter about dating websites, and how applicant describe themselves. If we're all above average in the looks, talent, finances and desirability department.... how can that work, mathematically?)

I know how: quit your career, change your life, move to a foreign land and become an apprentice all over again.

The strange existence of living, training, communing and racing with young women and staff of an all Italian team is a constant challenge.

Yes, I get to ride on scenic roads, travel to amazing cities (we see them fly past from the team van, kind of like Contiki but with less sex). We race on incredible climbs, enjoy 12 months of summer and I get to live a life I could never have imagined even 3 years ago.

But most of the forms of communication I have are stifled. One is left interpreting the actions, gestures and tone of voice of those around you.

Fortunately, I'm in a team of friendly, kind and fun young women. They take the trouble to explain things, reiterate instructions and if required, draw basic diagrams that my niece Ruby would find patronising.

Yet, it's a constant reminder that I am indeed different. Special, even!

Here, in this context, I am older than all my team mates. I've had years of experience in the work force and in other sports, and I have plenty to say.

Sadly, my ability to utilise most of my REAL talents like sarcasm, an almanac of facts about cinema, ridiculous pre-planning of training & travel... all these things are COMPLETELY untapped wonders!! If only they knew how useful I could be in a pub-trivia team or in oranising the whole team's travel itinerary....

The best part about being without any control or knowledge of the when/where/how and why of what we're doing, though, is that for a moderate control freak like myself, it's an excellent exercise in relinquishing power to the universe.

It's forced me to try and find happiness in what I'm doing NOW, rather than waiting to get disappointed or hoping not to be lied to (trust me, after last season, that last sentence is a diplomatic and succinct summary of the inner goings on of my first professional team).

Seeking happiness is often linked intrinsically with seeking greatness. "If I become great, I will be happy." This fact is no more pertinent than in elite sport.

Last week, when I stood on the start line at Fléche Wallonne, the fourth UCI women's world road cycling cup of the season, I looked around at the 170 starters, noting the champions among us.

I know I'm a good bike rider. So are the other 6 riders in all of the 29 professional and National teams in these World Cup races.

But then, there are the great riders. And the truly talented riders... the incredible riders... and then, there's Marianne Vos.

She's only 23 years old, and the friendly but unassuming Dutchwoman has already won 7 World Championships, on the track, in cyclocross and on the road.

But a great thought occurred to me the other day on the autostrade: pro cycling is just like Medical school!

In my day, kids who were the smartest in their school got accepted into university to study medicine (these days, you can pay $250k to go to Melbourne University Private). Then, after the hangover from O-week wore off and the togas got hung up for another year, we discovered 200 other 'smartest kids in the school,' and everyone got a new spot on the bell curve for semester one.

It' s a slow realisation that occurs too - one doesn't just decide to become the 'average' medical student, rock up with a pen and some foolscap to lectures and fall asleep in the front row (wait, there were a dozen or so of them - they're all ophthalmologists and plastic surgeons now. Smarter than they looked, eh?)

I didn't just try to barely pass exams. My close circle of friends and I would study like crazy for at least 4 weeks before exams, way more than we ever did at school!

Infuriatingly, though, my good friend Emily Granger, now one of the foremost female cardiothoracic surgeons in Sydney, would annihilate us in exams.

I suspect she actually studied every night while Kimberly and I watched Bold and the Beautiful. Maybe Emily Granger is Medicine's answer to Marianne Vos: she got given the talent, then exploited it, enhanced it with hours of incredible hard work, motivation, ambition and dedication.

But the cruel and tantalising thing about both cycling and medicine, is that even Dr Granger and Marianne Vos are frustrated by their situations. They want to be better, more satisfied, win more. Happier.

It's a reminder that happiness starts with working with what you have, avoiding bad luck, and then presenting yourself as being unique by taking a risk.

No matter how ordinary you secretly may be.

In my case, I need to make up for being too old, too tall and too heavy to be a 37 year old neo-pro by being aggressive, brave and relentless (oh, and not be tired, sick, overtrained, or changing a wheel while the race goes on without me...)

When I first spoke to Vos, in the middle of the peloton during stage 5 of the 2010 women's Giro d'Italia, we chatted about medicine and cycling and finally she told me she had a problem, and wasn't satisfied: she wanted to win everything.

Every race she raced.

Boo hoo, I said, we all want things. I want to be in the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie as Johnny Depp's love interest. Aint gonna happen.