These receptions really are a pain, they might not be compulsory but the local worthies, and in this case UCI big wigs like to press the flesh. As riders they really are a pain, several hours on your feet the night prior to the start of competition and often quite dubious catering arrangements don’t help. We were a bit late getting to the venue, not sure whether by design or fate but it did mean we missed Pat McQuaid, the current UCI president rattling on for fifteen minutes.

The downside of arriving late was of course that most of the venue saw our arrival, its a good job we were dressed decently – it would’ve been so embarrasing arriving in a spaghetti top and denim. I spotted a few familiar faces, that Sagan kid, the Swiss Pellini, Chris Toynbee over there with that Wogan lad, Myers the Australian girl in a rather showy frock. I guess there were as many looking our way thinking ‘that Bond girl’, ‘the Martin lad’, despite its size and location, Germany isn’t really a big cycle racing nation like its neighbours so its difficult to hide your top riders.
 
“Bond!” I looked around whilst covering my plate of buffet goodies.
“Desgrange, fancy meeting you here.”
“Couldn’t keep me away, see you found the food.”
“The only attraction tonight, so who else is here?”
“That little kid with the English, you know, the sprinter.”
“Cav,” I advised.
“Yeah him, not seen the others that usually ride with him.”
“They had a shake up, hence i’m now German.”
“Pah, you always were.”

What’s he mean by that?

“What’re you riding?” Michael enquired.
“Both,” I advised, “you?”
“Just the road thankfully, some De Clerk kid is doing the clock, no ones doubling up.”
“Lucky Belgium.”
“So you riding open or girls?”
“Girls,” I sighed, to be sensible its the right decision but I don’t have to like it, “more chance of a gong.”
“Says the girl who podiumed at Roubaix.”
“That was lucky,” I suggested.
“Lucky is winning the lottery, consistently getting on a podium needs rather more skill.”
 
“Hey Mikel, you made it!”
“Gaby, yep thanks to your papa, the others are here?”
“Just Tali,” I sighed.
“Such a pity, I think Jamie and Gethyn would do well here.”
“Yeah, not our decision though eh, that Vasquez kid here?”
“The Federation always send the champions, its like an extra prize, automatic selection, the same is for Germany?”
“Not exactly, its not automatic but it helps,” I grinned.
“Of course you are the German champion.”
“Guilty,” I smirked, “have a good race on Sunday yeah?”
“And you for tomorrow also.”
 
I wasn’t without coinversation for long throughout the evening, catching a few words with riders I sort of knew, being presented by ‘my’ federation to several worthies including The President and the Canadian Minister for Sport, a chap named Chong would you believe, not that he’s Asian at all. I hadn’t exactly been avoiding the BC lot, its more that we were in different circles, however it was inevitable we would meet.

“Mark.”
“Bond, you made it then.”
“We got a bit lost on the way, suppose you are staying nearby?” I probed.
“Just up the road, you?”
“London.”
“Get off! Really?”
“I know, its all like Oxford and stuff round there, well weird. You seen the course for Sunday yet.”
“We’re going tomorrow, you?”
“Just the time trial this afternoon.”
“Reckon you’ve got a fair chance in that.”
“What have you heard?” I enquired somewhat guardedly.
“Nothing, but you are like the testing queen.”
“There’s some good riders coming through.”
“Come on Gab, no one’s gonna even get close to the Bond girl.”
“Wish I had your confidence,” I told him, “what about you, you must fancy your chances?”
“If it comes to a gallop, your lad, Deck something? He’s a bit handy.”
“Degenkolb, he’s okay, get on his wheel and you’ll spook him though.”
“Are you supposed to be telling me that?”
I shrugged, “its hardly a state secret.”
“Well thanks anyway, pity Josh isn’t here, we coulda done with him.”
“He was available,” I pointedly replied.
“I know, this political stuff really sucks, the rest of the team aren’t exactly brilliant, Wogan’s okay I guess but against this lot we need experience.”
“Yeah well, what’s done is done.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “think someones trying to get your attention, blonde woman?”
“Annika,” I told him spotting my waving boss, “best go, good luck Sunday.”
“And you.”
 
“Frank wants us to head back,” Annika advised when I reached her.
“’kay, best use the facilities then.”
“Meet us in the foyer, i’ll find the others.”
“Okay.”

I headed towards the toilets, according to my watch its after ten, so much for a good nights sleep before the race, maybe I can sleep in a bit? Unusually there wasn’t a queue for the ladies, not that they were empty, but I was able to get a cubicle without waiting. I sat and tried to relax, outside voices conversed in several languages, well it is an international event I guess.

I must’ve dozed off, well I woke with a start anyway. I finished up, flushed and exited to wash up.

“Well look who it isn’t,” a beanpole of a girl announced in passable German spotting me.
“Backstedt,” I allowed.
“I wondered if you would be here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Marianne Backstedt is the current girls time trial champion after winning on her home turf last year. I don’t think i’ve actually raced against her but of course I read the results, I guess she does too. Apart from the fact that she must be like a metre eighty tall, i’ve never exactly warmed to her.

“There have been rumours,” she hinted.
“Don’t believe all you hear,” I told her pulling a couple of towels from the dispenser to dry my hands.
“This race is mine Bond,” she almost spat.
“If you say so.”
“I do, no little German Dværge is going to stand in my way.”
“Whatever.”
“You mock me.”
“Do I?”
“Hmmph!”
“Are we done, I need to get some beauty sleep.”
“That I can agree on Dværge!”

I binned the paper towels and made good my escape, what is her problem?
 
“There you are,” Izzy noted, “where’ve you been?”
“’talking’ to that Backstedt girl.”
“She’s a nasty bit of work.” Tal opined.
“You know her?”
“Yeah, she comes down to Niedersachsen to race sometimes, thinks she’s Gott’s gift to cycling.”
“I think she was trying to warn me off tomorrow,” I told them.
“What a mistake to make.”
“You sound like Josh girl.”
Tal grinned, “if you say so.”
“You guys ready?”Laurin asked joining us.
“As we’ll ever be,” I suggested.
 
Izzy was full of who she’d met and seen at the reception, well it was her first time so I guess she’s allowed. That meant that I didn’t get a sleep on the bus, I was stifling yawns by the time we got back to the Lamplighter – not that I was the only one. Yesterdays travel and today’s travails a la biciclette were catching up to us all, no one was keen to delay the journey to their beds.

Once in Chez Bond I stripped myself of finery and climbed into bed and actually had the light off before I remembered Dad. Bum, I promised him i’d ring today, light back on, work out how to get an international line on the hotel phones, dial and wait.

“Bond.”
“Dad, its Gaby.”
“Heya kiddo, everything okay?”
“Yeah, just touching base, er thanks for the upgrades, you never said anything.”
“Glad it meets with your approval, I thought i’d surprise you both.”
“Well thanks anyway.”
“Frank said you had a look at tomorrows course earlier.”
“You already spoke with him?”
“He rang me earlier.”
“Oh.”
“Were you going to mention collapsing to me?”
“Erm.”
“Frank was quite worried.”
“What did you tell him, he’s not gonna pull me is he?”
“The truth and no he’s not, I have suggested that you don’t use that visor tomorrow if its at all warm, i’m pretty sure it didn’t help matters.”
“It did get kind of sweaty,” I agreed.
“And make sure you keep hydrated beforehand, you got your start time yet?”
“Just turned one I think, number seventy three.”
“Not too much hanging about afterwards at least.”
“Just hours before,” I groaned.
“Go for a slow ride if you can, clear your head, get in the zone.”
“Think I was too much in it today,” I admitted.
“Don’t dwell on it kiddo, you know how to ride it, you’ll do what you can.”
“I guess.”
“Just do your best Gab, now get off this phone and get some sleep, everyone here will be rooting for you.”
“Thanks Dad.”
“G’night kiddo.”
“Nite Dad.”
 
So of course I couldn’t get to sleep. My grey matter wouldn’t even settle on a single subject for thought jumping instead from that daft race against Tony to the face off with Backstedt, back to how i’d tackle tomorrows effort and on and on. I watched the clock tick over from eleven fifty nine to all the zeros before my eyes finally succumbed to my exhaustion and I descended into a dreamless sleep.
 
Maddy Bell © 15.10.2018