“Can I interest anyone in dinner?” Dad offered as Team Bond exited Federation headquarters.
“Thanks for the offer Dave but I’ll have to pass,” Judit told us, “plane to catch.”
“Well thanks for everything in there.”
“Its what I’m paid for, good luck in Spain eh Gaby?”
“Er thanks, well for everything like,” I offered vaguely waving the envelope containing my reinstated licence.
“Well I must shoot, nice to meet you Natalie, nice work there.”

And with that she was gone.

“What about you Nat? No plane to catch?”
“Not for me, I’d love to join you, anywhere in mind?”

After consulting the girl on the Federations reception desk we ended up in a bar restaurant a couple of streets away, I was regretting Dad’s choice of footwear by the time we got there.

“So you have a good time down in the Pfalz?” Natalie asked as we waited for our drinks.
“It was pretty good, well apart from having this hanging.”
“At least you escaped this weather eh?”
“Yeah,” we might be a couple of hours from home but the wet’s down here too, not hard but wet enough.
“Good job with that big tent,” Dad mentioned.
“Helmut was going to take it down, oh sugar!”
“What kiddo?”
“Cheer, I need to ring Han, back in a mo.”

I grabbed my bag and dashed out to the lavs.

Come on, come on answer, “Han?”
“Oh hi Gab, whats up?”
“Look sorry about this, I won’t make it tonight, I’m in Frankfurt.”
“Sounds exciting?” she hinted.
“Stuff with the cycling Federation.”
“They work late.”
“Oh we’re done, just getting some dinner before we head back, I’ll see you Friday?”
“Yeah, don’t worry Gab, we’ll no doubt be light a few with the holidays anyhow, safe drive back.”
“Cheers, nite.”
“Nite Gab.”

“Sorted?” Dad enquired.
“Yeah, I’ll see her Friday.”
“Your Dad was just telling me about your other sidelines,” Nat mentioned.

I gave him a look.

“The cheerleading,” he filled in.
“Helps stop me getting bike bound, more fun than going to the gym.”
“Sounds like it, while I think about it I was wondering if you’d mind being a guinea pig?”
“For?”
“Well my boss has this idea that if we monitor sports peoples metrics regularly it’ll be much easier to spot discrepancies with testing.”
“Sounds interesting,” Dad opined, “so what are you suggesting?”
“Well initially full bloods then bi monthly urine, we should be able to spot trends with that.”
“Gab?” Dad queried.
“So like personal doping control?”
“Not exactly,” Natalie replied, “we’ll be looking for Haemocrit levels, iron and so on, things that could affect the controls.”
“Like natural levels of stuff?”
“Got it in one.”
“Okay, count me in,” I agreed.
“Could we do it for the whole team?” Dad queried.
“We might have to talk money, we’ve not got a lot of funding allocated.”
“If we got the funding sorted?”
“If theres money on the table, yep, the more the merrier.”
“I’ll talk to George tomorrow.”

It was just after nine when we got home, Mand was watching some rubbish on the idiot box.

“Hi guys.”
“What’re you eating?” I asked kicking my towering heels off.
“Custard.”
“Ooh, gimme,” I requested making a grab for the bowl.
“Geroff, get your own! So how’d it go?”
I pulled the envelope containing my race permit from my Handtasche, “one clean, shiny licence!”
“So what happened?”

Of course I then had to relate all of the days events from Dad’s wardrobe raid to Natalies ‘health passport’ project.

“You might’ve thought the Federations testers would’ve suspected something.”
“They test blind,” Dad interjected, “only the Federation know who’s samples are which.”
“Or not,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, or not,” he agreed.

We talked until after eleven when my yawn set everyone off and we headed for our beds. I never did get that custard.

“So we’ll pick you and Mand up on the way through,” Dad informed me as I ratchetted my shoes up.
“’kay, where’re we going?”
“Wait and see, something a bit different though.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Just think of it as race specific training.”

Race specific, I had a little self hug, I’ve got my licence back, I’ve got my licence back, Gaby will go to the Vuelta la Catalunya!

“You listening?”
“Er sorry.”
“I said, make sure your bottles are full.”
“Er yeah, right.”

I clattered down to the garage, checked my bike had air in the tyres, re-adjusted my rucky then quickly mounted and scooted out into the fresh but dry Eifel day outside. Quickly I was into my stride, tapping out a steady thirty KPH, riding pretty much on autopilot as I sang the lyrics to Queen’s Bicycle Race in my head. Its like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, well I guess it has, I cheerfully exchanged greetings with all and sundry along the road and fairly danced up Tunnelstraße and into Altenahr.

A couple of minutes dodging early shoppers through the town and I was at the kiosk. Kris was actually waiting for me so once I got the door open she started the morning chores whilst I quickly got changed into more appropriate togs than a jersey and bibshorts.

“Someones happy this morning.”
“Eh?”
“You’re singing?”
“Er soz.”
“Don’t let me stop you, so what's got you so chirpy?”
I checked the oil level in the fryer, then switched it on, “looking forward to next week.”
“Your race thing in Spain?”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Alright for some,” she sighed.
“Its not exactly a holiday.”
“You won’t be racing all day will you?”
“No but there's a lot of travelling and we need to rest quite a bit.”
“Sounds like a cue for a bit of sun bathing to me,” my helper suggested.
“Hmm, might fit some in I guess but like we’re not on the coast – well not much its mostly up in the Pyrenees.”
“It’d do me.”

Just then Herr Thesing arrived with our baked goods for the day effectively ending the conversation as by the time he’d left our first customers were waiting and the till guy turned up. Of course it was never going to be a straightforward swap and connect, what with computers ever is? By the time Con arrived we were using a plastic pot as a cash box and the tech guy was muttering to himself as we did our best to work around him.

“You look happier today,” Con suggested.
“That's what I said,” Kris put in, “she was even singing earlier.”
“Singing? You hate singing Gab.”
“Do not,” I replied, “its being dropped in it I’m not keen on.”
“So I guess whatever it was in Frankfurt went well?”
“You could say that.”
“So we gonna find out why you’ve been mostly miserable for a fortnight?”
Well maybe not the full story, “I was sort of accused of breaking the rules but it was actually all a big muck up by the Federation.”
“And it was all cleared up yesterday?”
“Yeah, when they were shown the truth they dropped the charge so I’m free to race in Spain next week.”
“They were stopping you racing?” Con suggested.
“Yep,” I agreed.
“Now the singing makes more sense,” Kris stated.

“So where were you yesterday?” Max asked as he cut into his currywürst pie.
“Had to go to the Federation’s HQ for a meeting.”
“Bit sudden?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “only found out a bit before I rang you.”
“So whatever it was is sorted out?” he probed.
I grabbed a few of his Pommes, “yeah, there was a mix up with some testing samples but its sorted now.”
He raised an eyebrow, “mix up?”
“They thought I’d taken some banned stuff, but we found out it wasn’t my sample so once that was sorted I was cleared.”
“So someone else took something then?”
“Maybe, we left that for the Federation to figure out.”
“This one of yours?” he queried pointing at the bright red orange contents.
“Herr T’s.”
“Maybe not one of his best,” Max suggested.
“Didn’t think it was bad, well the one I had yesterday was okay.”
“Maybe its just me then, so you want to go up the vineyards later?”
“Want and can could be different things, we’re doing a ‘special’ training session this afternoon, don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Er, your dad, he’s conned, I mean asked me to help out.”
“He has? What for?”
“Pacing or something? I’m meeting you guys at Kempenich.”
“On the Mofa?” I mocked
“Yeah,” he defended.
“But I can ride faster than that thing on my own.”
“If he’s buying the petrol, I’m not asking questions.”

Well I guess you can’t say fairer than that.

Maddy Bell © 04.02.2018