I straightened my hair out a bit, did up my skinsuit and waited for the call, i’ll be first up for third.

I couldn’t hear what the MC was saying very well, scratch that, his accented English was confusing my slightly addled grey matter, they’ll give me a shove when its time to go through right? However it was the Australian who got the first call, what’re they doing, going back to front. I could hear cheering then the MC started up again, ‘blah, blah, blah, the Netherlands, Lowra Steele!’

Guess she got second. She looked at me daggers again before going through to the stage. Once again there was cheering and a short delay, I guess the gong giving, then more cheering before the PA broke into life again, well it has to be me this time, flippin’ daft mixing it up like this. I was really listening, just waiting for the official to motion me through the curtain, I just caught ‘thirty four minutes, seventeen seconds, representing the Federal Republic of Germany, Gabrielle Bond!”

The cheering was pretty enthusiastic and I was somewhat confused when I realised that Shazza and the Dutch girl were stood on the lower steps of the podium, huh?

“You coming up or what Bond?” my new ‘friend’ demanded.
“Erm.”
“Here,” and with that I was hoisted to the lowest step then pushed up to the highest.
“I won?”
“Huh!” Steele offered.
“I won!” I yelled out, a huge grin on my face, my arms waving in the air.

The next few minutes were a confusion of emotions, I got my gong, my gold gong from the local worthy, the McQuaid chap did the stripy shirt bit then we stood for the flag raising as the National Anthem tinnily echoed around the stage. Of course we then had to do the photo stuff, you know, the smiling podium, the cheesy waving of medals. Only then were we ushered off and towards doping control, for once I was able to do the deed straight off, well I had been sipping from bidons for best bit of an hour!

 
When I emerged the rest of the team were waiting for me, well except for Tony, he’s pulled a late start and I guess is currently warming up.

“Knew you could do it,” Tal suggested.
“Wish I did, I thought I was third,” I noted with a look at Frank.
“I said at least third,” Frank stated, “i need to go and see Tony off, get yourself changed and stuff Gaby, the legs okay now?”
“Tired.”
“I’ll send Laurin over, I promised your dad that you’d get the best attention after all.”

 
I was still on the slab when Tony finished, it wasn’t to be a German double though, not today, some American, Hin something took the jersey, our boy only managed fifth this time around. Not that that’s bad of course, quite respectable and he was closer to gold than Steele was to me earlier. Oh yeah, I eventually got see the splits, the Dutch girl was fifty four seconds down, the Australian a further two, I really did smash it, no wonder Steele was giving me the look!

 
“What’re we eating tonight?” I enquired as we headed back to London.

Yeah I was hungry, race days can be a bitch for getting the calories in and other than a sort of muesli bar i’ve not eaten since breakfast.

“Your choice I think,” Annika suggested.
“Bet I know what she’ll go for,” Tali told to the rest of the bus.
“Steak I hope,” Degenbold opined.
“You won’t get schnitzel here,” Paul put in.
“So what’s it gonna be then Tal?” Izzy asked.
“Pizza.”
“Pizza?” John queried.
“Yup,” Tali confirmed, “double pepperoni right Gab?”
“Maybe olives too,” I grinned.
“I’m sure even the Canadians can manage pizza,” Laurin chuckled.

Where’s Tony? In the people carrier with Frank following along behind us, he seems to have taken defeat quite badly so the boss suggested some alone time, I hope for the other guys sake he snaps out of it before Sunday.

“Good job that tub didn’t go before the finish,” I mentioned.
“It was your skid that burst it,” Leon advised from up front.
“Really?”
“Two hundred gram tubs aren’t designed for heavy braking, you went straight through it, i’m sure your papa will forgive you though.”

Bum, two hundred grams, that sounds expensive.

 
Back at the Lamplighter Frank was appraised of the celebratory meal choice, it was still fairly early so I had time to place a call to Germany.

“Well done kiddo!” Mum enthused when I got through, “we were watching on Eurosport™, you’re catching me up.”
“Maybe,” I allowed.
“Hang on, your Dad’s here.”
“Hi kiddo or should I say your majesty?”
“Its a rainbow jersey not a crown,” I pointed out.
“Well you’re always our princess.”
“Da-ad!” I complained.
“The bike was okay I take it?”
“Erm.”
“Something up with it?”
“Er no not really, look I wrecked the back tyre, i’msorryi didn’tmeantoibrakedhardatthefinishanditexploded, i’llpayforithonestDadsorry.”
“Whoa, steady up kiddo, you burst the tub, how may I ask or is that a stupid question?”
“Well, you know you said I should keep at full effort till i’ve crossed the line, well I did but then I had to brake hard or crash and the wheel locked and...”
“And you went straight through the tyre,” he finished for me.
“Er yeah,” I admitted, “it was an accident.”
“It took you to the finish yes?”
“Uh huh.”
“Then it doesn’t matter kiddo, it did its job, to be honest it was a bit of a gamble putting those tyres on for you, they’re not really designed for the road.”
“They’re not?”
“Nope, they’re track tyres, I thought with you weighing about the same as a sparrow fart and with the roads newly surfaced it was worth the chance.”
“But they must cost a fortune.”
“A bit but they worked didn’t they? You won.”
“But...”
“Gab love, the cost isn’t the important thing, maybe pulling a skid wasn’t the greatest bit of riding but at the end of the day you now have the rainbow jersey, all to yourself, I don’t think you’ll be wanting for seventy euro tubulars any time soon.”
“Seventy euros!”
“Did I say seventy?”
“Da-ad.”
“So you all off to celebrate?” he asked deftly changing the subject.
“Er yeah, about,” I checked my watch, “five minutes ago.”
“Let me guess, pizza?”
“Am I really that predictable?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmph!” I er hmmphed.
“Well enjoy yourself kiddo but don’t forget about Sunday.”
“As if I could, not that I rate our chances, especially after today no ones going to let me do anything.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow eh, now go and eat your pizza, Weltmeisterin.”
“Yes Dad, say hi to Mand for me.”
“I will, now go.”

 
“How much?” Iz queried as I recounted my conversation as we drove to the Pizzeria that the desk clerk had booked us into, apparently the best in London.
“Straight up, seventy euros.”
“For one tyre,” Paul confirmed.
“Yup.”
“Glad i’m not paying,” Degenkolb noted.
“Maybe you should get some Tony,” Tal suggested.
“Tal!” I sanctioned, “not nice.”
“was only saying.”
“It’s alright Bond, i’m too heavy for them, i’ve tried,” Herr Martin admitted, “i just wasn’t good enough on the day."
“It was only twenty seconds,” I pointed out.
“May as well be twenty minutes,” he sighed, “how far is this restaurant, think i’m ready for pizza now,” he concluded.

 
Maddy Bell © 19.10.2018