Gaby Book 26 On The Edge by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2021 Madeline Bell Seventeen - it's a birthday overshadowed by its predecessor and successor and Gaby's looks set to follow that pattern. There are however big decisions to be made, should she grab life by the horns and experience everything it has to offer or take the more conservative, safer route through life. This volume, the 26th in the Gaby series has all the elements of classic Gaby, bike riding, teenage angst, developing relationships, grist to the mill for our heroine as life in the Ahrtal ticks on.

 
I didn't hang around to exchange pleasantries, if i've timed this right my fifty kilos trumps Alberto's seventy five on the incline, but I need a chunk of clear tarmac. The motorbike was gonna be my friend now, not in pacing exactly but if someone was coming up i'd get some warning as they'd change focus. My heart was going nineteen to the dozen, I gulped a few deep breaths to calm myself a bit, this might just work.

Getting 'aero' up hill doesn't really work, you need different techniques to capitalise on your effort, selecting the right gear foremost. That can be quite counter intuitive, too low and whilst it might feel easier you end up wasting energy over revving and actually go slower. Too high and you'll be all over the bike trying to turn over the pedals, again not very efficient, the art is to find the biggest gear you can keep on top of, ie not struggle pedaling.

I spared a look under my arm to confirm my gearing, the chain was sat mid way across the ten sprockets coming off the small chainring at the front. Hmm, less than a thousand metres to go, lets give it all i've got, girl you rock the cycling world all round, yeah! I dabbed the changer with my thumb, the Super Record gears silently changed the ratio by a few gear inches, my effort increasing by a few watts to compensate.

Of course its taken you longer to read all this than for me to do it, I focused on the TV bike, the smooth tarmac stretching away in a continuous ribbon ahead, and pushed harder. My computer had been hovering around twenty five kph, now it climbed closer to thirty and I found myself snicking into the next gear to keep the cadence even. Keep it going Bond.

'Up, up, up!'
'Snell, snell!'
'Keep it going Gab!'

By now, this close to the line, there were quite a few spectators including, apparently, members of Team Apollinaris. No time to waste looking for them, but people shouting your name is always a boost, I readjusted my position on the saddle a little and kept pushing.
 

"What's happening?” Jen asked her hubby.
"There's three riders away then a small bunch,” he advised keeping his eyes glued to the binoculars.
"Tina, Gaby?”
"Can't say for sure, there's a few light jerseys, shoulda brought the proper bins, these are a bit useless.”

Whilst the pocket binoculars weren't great and he couldn't say for sure, it did look like his daughter was leading things below, the small figure all in white was perhaps twenty metres in front of two larger riders who in turn had about fifty metres on the peloton. He kept it to himself for now, not wanting to jinx things.
 

'Gab-ee, Gab-ee, Gab-ee!”

I inwardly smiled as Daz and Mand ran alongside shouting my name for a few metres, come on Gab, not far now. Sweat dripped down my face, I had to make a quick wipe to dislodge an annoying drop collecting off my nose, distraction I could do without. It seemed to have taken an age from the kilo arch but there ahead was the five hundred to go board.

My thighs were burning, is that a twinge of cramp, not now, ride through it woman!

Four hundred metres and suddenly it was over, cramp gripped my left calf and foot and I had to ease off slightly, before I knew it, the English and Alberto were past me. I looked behind to find the remains of the peloton still a way behind, can I salvage third? Well I'll give it all i've got.
 

"Your daughter is in third,” Dave called down from his vantage point.

Dave had watched as his daughter, it was definitely her, had hesitated before being overhauled by those behind, was it tactics or did she have a problem?

"Come on kiddo!” Jen muttered, "You can do it.”
 

The cramp eased enough to keep pedaling but the gap to the new leaders was already ten metres and going the wrong way. I pushed the paddle for a bigger sprocket and stood to keep on top of the new gearing and not lose any more ground. Somehow I forced myself forward and reversed the deficit a little, the old man and young star still giving it full gas, this'll be a drag race to the line, the strongest will emerge the victor.

I grabbed my bidon and squirted the remaining contents towards my face, momentarily refreshed I took a deeper breath and hit the emergency reserve tank. Well you know what I mean, that last bit of energy, the extra ten percent that's do or die, click, back up a gear and heave the pedals round.
 

'Bu boom, bu boom,' the blood was pounding in my ears as I drew in a succession of super deep breaths, my head hanging between my knees. I'm not sure of exactly how I got to be sitting on the roadside a few metres beyond the finish line, the last couple of minutes have been a blur of bikes, sirens, bodies, shouting, whistles. 'Bu boom, bu boom.'

"Gaby, speak to me.”

I was vaguely aware of someone kneeling next to me and gently rubbing my back.

"Come on Gab, deep breaths.”

My slight head movement seemed to satisfy whoever it was, there was a release of pressure on my head as my helmet was removed, replaced with something cool and damp. There was activity all around us but there was space too. 'Bu boom......bu boom', my racing heart slowed and my befuddled state became more coherant.

"Where is she? Where is she?”

I looked up just as Mum pushed her way through the cordon of, I dunno, officials? Fans?

"Easy Jen, she's alright, just a bit winded,” Petra's voice advised.
"Mum?”
"You'll be the death of me Gabrielle Bond,” she stated as she assisted Pet in returning me to the vertical.
"Ah!”
"What's up, you hurt?”
"Cramp, left,” I gasped out.
Pet was down on the ground again, "Can you put weight on it? Jen, there's a bottle in my bag.”
 

The presentations were going to be back down in Vilaflor at about three o'clock, which is how I found myself descending the TF21, that instrument of torture, amidst a tide of spectators and competitors in the company of a phalanx of cream and blue jerseys. Whilst this downhill peloton chatted and exchanged greetings, I was content just to turn the pedals.

"You're quiet hen,” Josh observed.
I shrugged, "Tired.”
"Banana?”he offered.
"Sure.”

He fished the fruit from his pocket and passed it over.

"Cheers.”
"So who was the other chap like?”
"Mal something, he's English, you remember at Manchester we had that Keith Lambert guy do a session?”
"Wasn't there rememba,” he pointed out.

Course he wasn't, he didn't join us till later.

"Well anyway Keith's his manager, they're parked next to us at the bottom.”
"Think ma uncle might know him, name rings a bell.”
"He was a pro years ago I think, Joe probably raced against him,” I suggested.
"Aye, mebe.”
 

It was something of a party atmosphere back in Vilaflor, whilst the Challenge was the focus of things, it provides a more casual focus for the thousands of visitors on the island, like us, for training 'blocks'. It was no surprise then to find the place packed with riders drinking coffee, eating paella from the catering tent and just socialising as bikies do. It was a regular League of Nations, club riders chatting with elite pros, young with old, Brits, Dutch, German, Spanish – well pretty much all of Europe was represented.

When we reached the team bus I found myself engulfed by George who had stayed in the village to watch the Eurosport coverage.

"Urgh.”
"Well done Gaby, I think nobody will forget you after today!”
"Ung.”
"But I should let you get changed.”
"Come on Wonderwoman,” Tina suggested as she rescued me from the Boss, "We can use the showers at the school, i've got your bag.”
“'kay.”

I quickly slipped my shoes off and hung my lid off my handlebars as we set off to get cleaned up.
 

"So, in third place, the two thousand six UCI Masters World Champion, riding for Pinarello Racing Team, Malcolm Elliott!”

The Englishman climbed onto the stage grinning and waving, a lot of the crowd clearly knew who he was and cheered loudly as he received his trophy.

The MC returned with a squeal over the PA, "In second place, riding for Discovery Channel, Alberto Contador!”

The lanky Spaniard joined Mr Elliott on the staging to an equally loud reception, I guess he's sort of the local boy which always goes down well.

"And so to our victor today in a close fought finale, the current UCI Junior Womens World Champion, riding for Team Apollinaris, Gabrielle Bond!”

Yep, thats me. Those final metres really were agony, Alberto and Malcolm were matching each other pedal stroke for pedal stroke but the distraction of racing each other allowed me to get back up to them, then having switched across the road to get a clear run I just kept going. Officially it was a tyre to Alberto, Malcolm at a length having faded over the last few metres, well he is an old man.

I straightened my jersey before stepping up to receive my own plaudits.
 

"We've never been properly introduced lass, Malcolm Elliot, Mal to my friends,” the Englishman, no, Yorkshireman by the accent, offered his hand.
"Gaby er Bond,” I returned shaking the offered hand after putting the empty paella plate in the trash.

It was the first time i'd really looked at him, he might be past his first flush but he still had boyish good looks and a wide grin under a thatch of blonde hair, I guess you'd call him handsome in a sort of down to earth, Yorkshire way.

"Keith says your English?”
"Its kind of complicated, my passport says I'm German but I come from near Worksop?”
"Worksop? Well I never, I'm from Sheffield, so you ride in the Peaks then?”
"Not much, mostly Ollerton and Retford before we moved to Germany.”
"Of course, makes sense now as why we haven't met before, excellent ride by the way, I thought i'd got the Spaniard until you came up.”
"Sorry.”
"Don't be sorry lass, that were some canny riding there, sort of thing i'd've done at your age, have to rely on experience these days, getting a bit long int' tooth to mix it wi' youth. Any 'ow, thought i'd say hi, oh and thank your spanner man fer't chainring eh.”
"Sure.”
"Well ah best be ont' way, Keith's wanting to get back t' 'otel, somethin' about getting' outside a few beers. What is it you Germans say? Aye, weedersayn Gaby Bond.”
"Er yeah, wiedersehn, enjoy your beer.”
“'appen we will.”
 

"There you are.”
"Here I am,” I confirmed as I juggled a second plate of paella, a plastic fork and a bottle of orange pop.
"You do know George is springing for dinner tonight,” Kat mentioned.
"And?”
She gave a sigh, "You really do have hollow legs. So, was that the English you were talking to before?”
"Amongst others.”

Indeed, quite a lot of people seemed keen to meet me this afternoon, one reason I was taking refuge in the Paella bar again. I've posed for pictures, signed autographs, been congratulated and hand shaken for like ever.

"Quite a hunk eh?”
"If you like dating old men.”
"Oh come on Gab, he's not that old.”
I gave a shiver of mock revulsion, "It'd be like dating your dad. So what do you want me for?”
"We'll be heading back to Puerto once i've rounded everyone up.”
"I got time to finish this? Wouldn't want it going to waste.”
"As your dietitian I should say no but you'll ignore me anyhow, ten minutes at the bus.”
"Ja mein Obermeisterin.”
"Hmph, you seen any of the others?”
"Daz and Josh were outside a few minutes ago.”
 

The return trip to Puerto de la Cruz and the hotel was a bit livelier than the outward journey, for starters the bus was full and secondly everyone wanted to hear about the race, not just from my perspective but from Tina's too. I might have sealed the victory but Tina made a good showing too finishing just outside the twenty in a small group two minutes down. Yeah, I was more than happy to let her have bragging time.
 

"Remind me why I'm dressed like an air hostess,” I requested as I tugged my team frock down to cover my tan lines.
"Some silly moo only went and won a race so we have to go celebrate at a fancy restaurant,” Mand replied, slipping her shoes on.
"And I thought the only consequence of winning was cleaning the silverware.”
"And to the losers, the spoils,” Mand misquoted, "No win, no clean!”
"Or daft frocks.”
"You ready whine a lot?”
I sighed, "I guess, come on, can't keep the steaks waiting.”

Rather than take the buses to the restaurant which meant no drinking for Dad and A N Other, the hotel sorted us out with a mini fleet of minibuses to take us the couple of miles to 'El Torro de la Cruz', a country restaurant with a traditional Spanish menu, not a pizza or bowl of pasta to be seen. By the fact we were the only patrons I'm pretty sure this was no last minute thing, we'd have come tonight win or lose out on Mount Teide. Its always better to be celebrating though and my success earnt everyone a glass of cheap Champagne-a-like.

"Okay daughter?” Mum enquired as we raided the salad bar.
"I guess,” I allowed.
"You got some good scalps out there today.”
"And some old ones, that Elliott bloke is ancient.”
"Malcolm? He's not that old, quite prolific in his time.”
"Yeah?”
"He won the Milk Race a couple of times, did the Tour, some National titles, all the British classics, drove a Porsche if I remember right, I think he rode for some Spanish teams later on.”
"Well i've not heard of him.”
"Think he's having a comeback, still looks a bit of alright don't you think, a few of the girls fancied him rotten.”
"Mu-um!”
"Just saying,” and with that she nicked one of the cherry tomatoes off of my plate.
"Hey!”

I dunno why George insisted we wear the uniform dresses, its not like anyone else was at the restaurant. How we're dressed doesn't affect the food though, or the eating thereof, I, as predicted, chose steak served with Patatas Bravas and a side of green beans and tomatoes. The meat was a bit over done for me, but it was eatable, nothing went to waste and the ice cream dessert finished things nicely.

'Ching, ching!'

The sound of our leader tapping a glass caught our attention and we quieted to hear his words of wisdom.

"Ladies, gentlemen, first a toast to our Wunderkind for another famous victory, i've spoken with the sponsors earlier, they are over the moon, so I give you, Gaby Bond.”
"Gaby!”

Talk about embarrassing, everyone raising glasses in my honour.

"So to more mundane things, tomorrow ready at the front for eight thirty please, we should be back mid afternoon so you'll have free time in the afternoon. We'll have a longer day on Saturday, we'll be meeting up with a couple of other groups for a decent workout. Questions?”
"We eating at the hotel tomorrow?” Erika asked.
"Indeed we are, back to healthy eating eh Kat?”
"Don't want to end up with fat bottomed girls Boss,” Pinger replied with a chuckle, cheeky cow!

"Beach?” Gret suggested, the subject being what to do with a free afternoon.
"Think i've had enough sun this week,” Mand mentioned.
"What do you suggest then?” Tali asked.
"Cinema?” I offered, "They'll have air conditioning.”
"Over in that shopping centre?” Daz queried.
"Works for me man,” Josh confirmed.
"That’s that sorted,” Mand stated, "So tonight, cards?”

Our taxi pulled up outside the hotel, George had already sorted payment so we all spilled out of the people carrier. I'm not the greatest at cards but its sort of become the default entertainment in the evenings when we are away. I can always text Max and the girls back home if I get bored.

 
Maddy Bell © 25.03.2021