We’ve done these presentations before, some have been quite grand, this wasn’t one of those. Oh don’t get me wrong, there were speeches, a video of last years race (which was actually quite informative) a bit of a presentation but not the full interview type jobby you sometimes have to endure. No it was more of a trot across the stage, identify ourselves when named, smile and wave before being hurried off.

I know I said we were over dressed earlier but somehow, as we all stood in our matching dresses (well duh, the lads were in their ‘smart’ trousers and jackets), I kind of felt quite mature and professional compared to the much more leisurely dress of most of the other competitors. There were plenty of jeans being worn and some of the girls didn’t even have any massy on! I’m sure there were a few comments in the room as we stood, neatly arranged, for the inevitable photos, they’re only jealous.

Of course no reception is complete without food and entertainment, we had to endure the wailing of some local ‘folk’ singers before we were released to tackle the waiting tables of Spanish snacks. One thing with the presentation was the chance to put faces to names but to be honest with a field of primarily Iberian regional teams, a couple from France and us – well we might as well be up against Martians. Of course the race we should’ve been riding in Switzerland has pulled all the national squads and with them most of the top European junior riders.

And then of course there’s the language thing. I might be ace at German and can cope with English but Spanish, its like high speed Double Dutch! I can manage ‘Una Fanta per favor’, but I run out much beyond that which keeps conversations with the natives quite short.

“This is like a right barrel man,” Josh opined.
“Its like we’ve got two heads or something,” Mand agreed.
“Our reputation has come ahead,” Gret added.
“For overdressing the occasion?” Tali suggested.
“For being the best Jungere team in Europe,” I proposed, “where’s Daz?”
“Looks like he’s practising his language skills,” Mand advised pointing with ger head.
“Hmm, could be useful,” I allowed.
“Well at least there’s no dressing up this time, must’ve lost your touch Gabs,” Gret chuckled.
“Do you know how uncomfortable those dresses were last year?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell us,” the Brandenburger mentioned.
“Gab, you wear a dirndl all the time at the Stube,” Mand pointed out.
“Doesn’t mean they’re comfortable,” I mumped, “those blouses can rub.”

My protestations of discomfort were met with a lot of eye rolling.

“So what’ve you found out Daz?” Mand asked as our missing linguist rejoined us.
“Not a lot.”
“Oh come on, you were over there for ages.”
“Well,” he started, “that tall lad with the curly hair, he’s the Spanish champion and...”

He really had been pumping his new ‘friends’ for intel, I hope it wasn’t as a double agent.

“Okay guys,” Dad addressed us as we gathered inside the hostel’s entrance sometime later, “early night please, breakfast from seven, team brief in the camper at eight, you’ll be riding down into Pamplona for the start. Gaby, Kat wants to check your leg so pop and see her out in the Hymer before the briefing. Questions?”
“Pink or red nails Dad?”
Pater sighed, “serious questions Gaby.”
“It is serious, we want to match,” I giggled.
“Well ahm not wearing pink man,” Josh told us.
“They looked really good the other week Joshie,” Tali chipped in.
“People,” Dad interrupted as the conversation threatened to get out of hand, “enough, we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bit different to last year,” Mand stated as we lay in the gloom of our room.
“Yeah,” I agreed as I tapped out an SMS to someone in the Ahrtal.
“And we have to eat marshmallows every couple of K.”
“Mmm,” I allowed.
“I think the chicken outfits are a bit much though.”
“Eh?”
“You weren’t listening were you?” Mand suggested.
“I was, something about eating marshmallows, erm, you were doing a wind up right?”
“Yes it was a wind up,” Mand agreed, “you’re like a lovestruck teenager, oh hang on you are a lovestruck teenager!”
“Am not!”
“So you weren’t texting Max then?”
“Might’ve been,” I admitted, “I was just telling him about the presentation.”
“Kiss, kiss,” she taunted.

“Still sore?” Kat enquired as she felt along my calf.
“Bit.”
“Wearing heels last night probably didn’t help.”
“They’re hardly high.”
“But they still have you using muscle sets you don’t generally use – well unless you wear them all the time, that's why you get sore legs when you do wear them.”
“I guess, so what now?”
“I’ll put you some strapping on for today, just try to not aggravate it too much eh?”
“I’ll try boss.”
I felt a right narna when the others climbed into the camper, a bright blue plaster thing adorning my lower leg.

“So we all clear?” Dad asked.
“But what if someone really goes for it?” I queried.
“Josh?” Dad prompted.
“Assess, then react according to the danger.”
“I don’t want you guys chasing everything out there today, there are plenty of others to do that, preserve your energy, its going to be warm out there, I don’t want you getting too dehydrated, follow the plan, listen to Josh. Anything else?”
“Sun screen,” Kat told us.
“As she says,” Dad noted, “feed is at seventy five so make sure you get plenty of snap from Angela. Have a good ride and stay safe.”

Today we’ve got a loop out through the rolling countryside to some place called Logroῆo before a more testing return to Pamplona through the mountains for the finish back here in the main square. Well I guess we’ve done the training, its time to get on with getting the results. Around us the colourful clamour of riders, supporters and the MC gabbling away at nineteen to the dozen leant something of a carnival feel to things.

I looked around for the BC guys, their nondescript new jerseys merging into the colourful array waiting to set off. A couple of whistle blasts alerted everyone to the impending departure, the hubbub died down somewhat.

The MC started what I’m guessing was a countdown, soon joined by members of the crowd around us, ‘Cuatro, tres, dos, uno!’
“Time to go guys,” I mentioned.
“Lets do it,” Josh added as we were surrounded by a hundred or so pairs of feet engaging cleats, cursing and making gear changes that should’ve already been made – yep the usual din of the start of a race.

Of course the start is neutralised, today for the kilometre or so out to the university, more than far enough to get positioned for when the flag drops. For me this is a big thing, my first race in several weeks, my first since the drugs fiasco, so okay no one here knows about that but even so I feel like I need to prove myself anew.

By the time the actual flag was dropped, the blue jerseys of Apollinaris were all near the front of affairs, the BC Schauff guys were also in close attendance. Its usual for some chancer to set off from the gun and today was to be no different, yep, with something like a hundred and thirty K, some idiot took off. I know there’s a sprint about mid way but really, some people.

So of course that got a reaction and whilst we weren’t actively taking part, the first few kilometres out past the airport passed at somewhat higher speed than was sensible. Breakaway boy was of course reeled in and thankfully things settled into a more comfortable pace as we started the first climb of the day, a long drag chasing the railway line. We took an hour to cover the first twenty five kilometres, hardly ripping up the trees but I don’t think anyone was upset by the languid pace.

“Bit docile like.” Josh suggested as we cruised along between the fields.
“They’re all waiting.”
“Waiting? tha chippers around Newkie are faster than this, what tha heck are they waiting for?”
“Me, us, watch.”

I’ve been watching the bunch around us for a bit, every time I move forward a bit there’s like a dozen riders marking me and with this National Champs jersey on my back I’m a bit hard to miss. I eased my way forwards before sitting up at the pointy end of the peloton. You’d normally expect riders to filter past and keep the pace up but ut uh, they just slowed to match my speed. Yep, they’re waiting for me to make a move sure enough.

It took me a few minutes to get back to Josh who’d now been joined by Jamie and Geth.

“This is ridiculous,” the latter opined.
“Not much,” I agreed.
“We should liven things up,” Jamie proposed.
“Well,” I dropped my voice a little, “you could attack.”
“Not just a pretty face eh Bond,” Josh stated, that earnt him a level two hard stare.
“You mean like us two?” Geth queried.
“Well one of youse,” Josh almost chuckled.
“Even better, one of you and Manda, we’d both have reason not to chase then,” I added.
“I like it,” Jamie grinned, “but how about if Mikel goes?”
“Hmm, some of them will know him but not in that strip like,” Josh smirked.

I’m sure we’d had some sort of audience during our short discussion, I spotted Curly, well I can’t pronounce his name, the Spanish champion watching as we drifted apart. Of course it would be too obvious to now go straight on the attack, instead Jamie had proposed a point a couple of K further on. We all have a part to play and its not like we’ve got anything to lose and I’d rather not leave it to a sprint back in Pamplona.

“Why me?” Mand hissed coming alongside.
“Why not? Between you, you can mop up the prime points, maybe take some of the pressure.”
“We’re not gonna get to the finish,” she pointed out.
“Maybe not but the rest of this lot are gonna need to do something to stop that.”

And so it was that as we approached the launch site I started a bit of finessing, checking my gears, the tightness of shoes – all sure signs I’m up to something. I glanced about and launched my feint, immediately I could tell I had company, yep, like vultures at the kill. A quick glance revealed I’d garnered a big chunk of attention, I kept the effort, maybe ninety percent, for a few more metres before a very theatrical sit up.

Of course that’s when M & M took off, not unnoticed but clearly they were small fry compared to me, only a couple of lads giving chase. But it was clear that I’m the one they all consider the threat this week, a double edged sword and I suppose not unexpected. Thing is, two can play that game, we’ve come to get a result and whilst I could reasonably be considered our ‘star’ rider, well I’m not the only one capable of taking the title.

It wasn’t long before the neutral service went past the bunch but even that garnered less response than me adjusting a bra strap. We were in a lightly rolling landscape now, blue skies above and temperature just on the right side of comfortable. Of course the combined might of the Schauff and Apollinaris teams at the head of affairs effectively kept a cork on any further reaction from the rest of the peloton.

Hour two added thirty k to the total, when we reached Lodosa the road went from country lane to wider, smoother tarmac and with the wider road we lost our controlling grip on the bunch. Not that anyone was exactly chasing the break down but Curly and his Spanish National squad started to drive the pace a bit, some reaction at last.

Maddy Bell © 10.04.2018