Gaby Book 28  Balancing Trick by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2023 Madeline Bell

 
Over the next hour Joe and Dad cleaned the morning’s residue from our steeds whilst we, the riders that is, grabbed a light lunch and exchanged wet gear for dry. The only fly in that ointment was shoes, nothing worse than putting on wet footwear, Manda had her old race shoes in her bag and after a scrimmage under the seats, I found a slightly battered pair of Specialized, not mine but they fit and they were dry. The lads however had no such options, wadded newspaper would draw some of the wet out but they’d still have wet shoes to ride in.

We were just clearing up the lunch debris when Dad and Joe joined us.

"Hope you left some for us?” Dad queried.
"I er, we erm,” I blustered. I mean there wasn’t that much to start with, cold chicken and pasta which we’d dinged to warm up.
"Just kidding,” he smirked, "So you all set for this afternoon?”
"Aye,” Josh offered, "Any idea where we are with the GC like?”
"They was still sortin’ it all oot when ah went over,” Joe told us,”yud think it’d be straightforward but they was mekin’ a reet meal of it. Anyhoo, young Bond has tha lead for shooer, ah canna recall the exact numbers but tha rest of yous are sat in the top twenty.”
"Any idea on my lead?”
"That’s what they woz tryin’ ta sort oot, you were the only one under forty six this mornin’ so its at least a minute.”
"Which means you need to keep tabs on anything going up the road,” Dad put in, "A minute isn’t a lot, there might not be any hills but that’s not in our favour.”
"Great,” Mand sighed.
"The official feed is at the end of lap two so about sixty K in, you can get fresh bidons at the same place every lap, Joe and I will have them ready, there is a drop zone for empties. There is neutral service but we’ll have some wheels at the feed if you can get there, questions?”

We all looked at each other, we’ve done this enough times to know the score, only difference is there are usually more of us so our options are maybe a bit more restricted today.

"No? Okay the depart is in ten so best shake a leg, and have a good race out there.”
 
I’d best fill you in on this afternoons parcours. Essentially we are doing four laps of this mornings tt course, using a lane to complete the circuit and finishing at the same spot just outside Lilienthal. To get to the circuit we have a couple of K in a neutral convoy which is what we need to join in the next, oops, five minutes.

As they hadn’t run to a leaders jersey I was of course rocking my rainbow stripes, the Pinarello sparkled after its clean, only the ‘borrowed’ shoes spoilt the image a little but who’s looking at my feet? So okay, the jersey is like having a target painted on your back but, in cycling, wearing the rainbow stripes is pretty much as good as it gets, maybe winning the Olympics or even some of the big races comes close but you only get a gong for the Olympics and there’s no reminder of your success beyond individual events. Nope, the Worlds are it, forever after its your right to wear the bands on your sleeve.

The organisers wanted us formed up in number sequence for the start so the four of us made our way to the front which ensured the rest of the field got to see the Englanders, I might officially now be German and we might all have fallen out with British Cycling but this weekend Team Apollinaris is rockin’ an all English born squad. Historically the UK has sporadically produced some great riders but they have been the exception, not the rule and BC seems intent on keeping it that way, at least on the road. That short sighted thinking is of course why the four of us are here, doesn’t mean we can’t be proud of our roots right?

Once we were all in some semblance of order one of the race officials raised a megaphone to address us. It was the usual pre race stuff, open roads, blah, blah, blah, keep right, feed zone.

“...and you’ll be pleased to know that the THW have cleared the flood at Ritterhude that caused a few issues this morning. The forecast is dry, have a safe race and Glück to you all.”

There were some mumbles behind us at the news about the flood, riding solo through twenty centimetres of water is one thing, taking a bunch of eighty is another and clearly not safe.

A whistle was blown, then a klaxon and the lead car set off with us following a moment later. According to Dad it was three kilometres to the green flag, three kilometres of not racing, just trundling along at a steady twenty five, barely enough effort to get warmed up.

"Long one Hen?” Josh queried as we rolled towards the autobahn junction.

Good question, I’ve used the tactic a couple of times recently, going early and trusting to luck to go the distance and whilst its worked a couple of times i don’t really fancy ninety, a hundred kilometres out on my own today. Plus I don’t think today’s circuit is conducive to that tactic.

"Nah, maybe keep a lid and see how it goes unless anyone else wants a go?”
"Maybe after the feed?” Daz suggested.
"Aye, keep the competition guessing like,” Josh agreed.
"Mand?”
"Yeah, I’m in for that.”
"You okay?” I asked.
"Fine, stomach’s feeling a bit off is all.”
"Well don’t push yourself then.”
"I’ll be alright once we get going.

I wasn’t convinced, she did look a bit green around the gills.
 

I’d expected us to go the same way we had this morning so I was a bit surprised when our Polizei escort directed us left into what looked more like a bike track than a road. It was just wide enough to stay four abreast, well surfaced, flat of course and stretched straight as a die towards a row of trees. If Dad was right we were fast approaching the end of the neutral zone.

It was bright and sunny now, a few whisps of cloud raced across the blue although there didn’t seem to be much wind down at ground level. I took a pull on my bidon, readjusted the closure on my borrowed footwear, the left cleat felt a bit sloppy but there’s nothing I can do about that now. The lead car accelerated away as we approached the end of the lane, more Polizei had the junction clear for us as we turned onto a familiar looking bit of road.

We had barely cleared the corner before a woman at the roadside started to enthusiastically wave a green flag even as our escort accelerated further ahead – game on I guess.
 

Our position at the front of the peloton was almost immediately over run as the usual posturing started, first one, then another rider gaining a few metres before being sucked back into the pack. I’ve never really seen the point of wasting energy like that, if you are going to attack do it properly. There again, I am a girl and lets face it, even when I thought I was a boy I never really understood most boy stuff.

The silliness continued for maybe a couple of kilometres before they’d got it out of their systems. Of course, our quartet kept ourselves fairly close to the front of affairs, close enough to react to anything that looked more serious but far enough back to get involved in pursuit of the doomed excursions. It did mean that we were scooting along at a reasonable lick, a pace that in the long run wouldn’t be sustainable by many of the field, already the peloton was stretched into a hundred metre long tadpole.

I don’t think anyone was too upset when the Apollinaris bus moved back to the front and the pace dropped to a more comfortable thirty clicks. Having the GC lead has its benefits and drawbacks of course, we are expected to defend that position but we also get the chance to control the speed. For now at least, the rest of the race was prepared to process along behind the Regenbogen and her retinue.

The roads looked quite different to this morning, for a start they were dry and when you are riding in a group like this you aren’t looking for the racing line in quite the same way. I only realised we were approaching the bridge when I saw the blue THW vehicles still parked on the flood bank, the road below still wearing a few small puddles, all that remains of the pond of earlier. After kilometres of flat, the small rise onto the bridge was a chance to get out of the saddle momentarily and, I realised, possibly the best jump off point on the whole circuit.

A few spectators cheered us by as we crossed the Wümme, then a wide line into the lane to return eastwards – ish. This side of the river being more open, the effects of the wind were more noticeable, one minute driving us on, the next cutting across our bows so to speak. If you remember from the time trial, there are a couple of longer straights, maybe its time for a bit of fun.

I glanced over to Josh and indicated that I was going to go up the road. Obviously that wasn’t part of the plan we agreed on the run out so he replied with a shrug and continued his conversation with Daz. Mand was looking a bit better now, maybe not a hundred percent but at least ninety, clearly she was quite happy trucking along as we were.

A quick look behind was enough, no one looked too interested in racing, content to follow where we led. I eased myself around the back of the lads so that I was on the left, the middle of the road, waited until we cleared the long right hand bend, then booted it. Out of the saddle, drop a sprocket and go.

With my team mates providing a cork, I was well clear before the reaction from the rest of the race. If I’d been serious I’d have kept the gas on longer but I was just messing so I eased off a bit, they’d need to work to pull me back but at the same time I wasn’t gonna waste too much energy.

When I glanced back things were in some disarray, about a dozen riders were actively chasing me down, broken into ones and twos and including what looked like Mands at the back. Further back, Josh and Daz were still chatting away as the rest of the race now milled around them in some confusion I guess. I chuckled to myself and dug in my pocket for a lump of flapjack.

The chasers chased, the chased chuckled and eventually the former reached the latter and my escapade was over. It wasn’t a surprise to see most of the lads from yesterdays breakaway group in the pack, the others looking quite capable too. On reflection, if I’d been serious about getting away, I’d’ve been fairly content to have these as companions.

"What was that all about?” de Vreen asked when I dropped back to her.
"Stretching my legs.”
"Ya coulda warned me.”
"I told Josh.”
"Hmmph!”
"You needed the exercise,” I joked.
"I needed not to be chasing a dead horse.”
"Feeling any better?”
"Some, might’ve been that chicken?”
"More likely the pasta, tasted a bit iffy if you ask me.”
"Maybe, so what now?”
"Play anchor until the others get up here.”
"I’ll try to slow things down at the front.”

As the gap closed from break to main bunch, several riders jumped from the chasers to bridge the remaining gap, by the time we passed the finish, other than a couple of stragglers, the race was essentially all back together.
 

The extra bit of road making the link back to the west bound lane increased the lap length from the twenty five this morning to a little over twenty six. Yep, there’s still a little shy of eighty kilometres to go to the finish, up to three more hours of Niedersachsen flatlands to endure. I just wish the biggest hill was more than three metres high!

I grabbed a fresh bidon from Dad as we started the new lap, I hadn’t emptied one but they are like toilets, never pass on one up, you will inevitably regret it! The link back to the other road took us onto a cycle track across the river then over over a repurposed railway viaduct to meet up with a narrow lane that followed the river back to the main – er road we started on. After my little ‘escape’ routine the dynamics of the race had subtly changed, instead of leaving Apollinaris to dictate everything, a few others threw their hats into the ring.

The biggest difference was a change in pace, where we were content to just roll along, maybe twenty five, thirty k’s we were now doing closer to thirty five klicks with a bit of a rotation keeping the pace up. Given our plan I was quite happy to muck in with this which helped disguise the short or missed turns taken by Daz.
 

"Where were you thinking?” I enquired pulling alongside Herr Fuchs.
"Coming off that bike path?”
"Better idea,” I started, "Its not much, but that rise onto the bridge at the far end.”
"And then there’s that drop the other end.”
"Got it, the rest of us can slow things on the approach, you go up the steep bit full gas et voila.”
"Sounds good to me,” Daz stated,” I'll check the line this time round.”
"Plus you get your musette.”
"Yeah don’t wanna bonk out.”
"Indeed, I’ll bring the Toon and Mand up to speed.”
"Cheers Gab.”
"No worries.”

Okay, its not exactly a selfless act, the shorter the break, the less chance he’ll overhaul me on GC.
 

Apart from the higher speed and more involvement from the rest of the peloton, lap two wasn’t that much different from the first. It might be flat but the route along the Wümme is actually quite pretty, most of the traffic we crossed was actually two wheeled and self propelled. Most of that was of the leisure cum utility type although there were a few more sporting types out watching the racing.

Daz tried his line at the turn crossing, it looked good and I reckon is worth perhaps ten metres when he goes next time around.

"Everything sorted?” Josh asked as we started the run back towards the finish area.
"Slight change of plan.”
"Go on.”
"It’ll be me going at the feed to pull some of their sting, then Daz will go for real at the bridge.”
"You sure aboot this Hen?”
"Yup, they’re watching my every move, not saying they won’t follow Daz but they’ll hopefully think its a feint before I go again.”
"I see where you’re coming from lass.”
"Promise me one thing though Josh.”
"What’s that like?”
"Hang onto my musette, I won’t have time.”
"Think we can manage that, where you jumping?”
"At the feed, everyone will ease off to get their bags – oh and don’t tell Daz or Mand until I’ve gone.”
"Why not like?”
"Keep them on their toes?”
"If you say so.”

"What were you two plotting?” de Vreen demanded as we crossed in the rotation.
"Nothing.”
"Come off of it Bond, I can read you like a book, spill.”
"Okay, okay, me an’ Josh are, you know, just sorting some us time.”
"You and Josh? Give over!”
"You asked.”
"Come on, seriously, what are you up to?”
"Told you, just working out when we can get together.”
"Still don’t believe you, I’ve known you both too long.”
"Well its the truth whatever you think, you set for the great escape?”
She gave me one of those, ‘I'm sure your on the wind up’ looks before replying, "Bridge next time, I’ll be ready.”
"How’s the stomach?”
"Okayish.”
"Best stay clear of the gels or it could get messy.”
"Thank you for that image Bond, makes me feel a whole lot better.”

And taken your mind off my play acting a bit.
 
My plan was simple, go like the clappers through the feed, any chasers will miss their musettes, hammer it through the bike path bit and keep it going along the lane. If anyone comes up to me before I reach the circuit proper I’ll feign interest but otherwise I’ll just ease up on the bigger road, let them chase me down. Like I said, its simple and should throw them off the scent when Daz does his thing.

As we headed back towards Lilienthal the peloton was pretty much all together, the more capable riders filling the front of the race. Some of those further back won’t make the finish, the upcoming action will almost ensure that, on one level I know that will ever be the case but it still makes me feel a little guilty that I’ll be no small part of killing their ambitions. Some of us will go far in this sport of ours, some already have, but behind us are the also rans who race every week without much hope of success, but they do it all the same.

Without them and all the supporters of course, there would be no races, no accolades for those who do aspire for the top.
 
Maddy Bell © 15.06.2023