Gaby Book 18 - Summery

 
I was into my second cup of caffeine enriched coffee by the time the rest of our party emerged, it wasn’t great coffee but it was strong, not bitter and in plentiful supply. You can’t always get enough sport friendly food at hotel breakfast bars – Dad has usually got backup supplies in the form of pasta but at least we could escape that this morning as they had warming pans with the makings of a decent breakfast plate.

Apparently, back in the day, the favoured cyclist breakfast was rice and steak – I don’t think I could face that but scrambled egg, frikadel, beans, tomato and mushrooms pretty much cover the same calorie requirements, add in the fruit, juice, joghurt and a couple of rounds of toast with Nutella® or jam and I for one, am set.

“How’s the coffee?” Ron, the last to arrive, enquired.
“Drinkable,” I allowed with a shrug.
“You reckon this free for all will work?” Gret asked as she loaded her toast with Nutella.
“’S worth a try, if nothing else it’ll confuse the life out of the rest.”
“And us,” Mand put in.

I couldn’t argue with that, we’ve usually got some sort of fairly solid plan, attack here, sit in for the sprint, follow so and so but this new angle hasn’t got a real focus, all I can see is frustration. In the back of my mind was the fear of not winning today, oh I know I can’t win every time out of the blocks but is doesn’t stop me wanting to. Second best would be a team win and I can’t see that happening either.

“Woo-ooo,” a hand waved in front of my face.
“Eh?”
“You spaced out,” Ron stated.
“Er soz, just thinking.”
“Don’t worry your little self with that, we are quite capable,” Mand offered.
“Funny ha ha.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Dad announced.
“Damn,” Ron opined, still working on her hot food.

“Still a strawberry blonde then,” Tali mentioned as she started warming up on the turbo.
“Eh?”
“Hair? Pink?”
“Er yeah, how’s it going with lover boy?”
Said Toon was deep in conversation with Dad and Dieter just far enough away he wouldn’t hear us.
“You know how it is, he stays at mine most weekends, it’s easier to get to races.”
“I bet. Don’t your parents mind?”
“Why should they?”
“Well you know, you, him?”
“What's that supposed to mean?
“Do you, you know, er do it?”
“Sheesh, Gab, we aren’t in religious orders, of course we do, don’t you and whatshisname?”
“Course not!”
“Only asked, I mean your sister has her man doesn’t she?”

Boris. To be honest apart from a bit of sibling jousting I've never really thought too much about their relationship. When I think about it whilst they don’t push it into anyone’s face they do sleep in one bed at ours, they probably do the same at Boris’s place – I guess it’s inevitable that they er do it, gross!

“Um yeah.”
“So you and your fella never?”
“Not gonna happen, not this side of hell freezing,” I stated categorically,” and he’s not my ‘fella’.”
“Guess men aren’t for everyone.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, so you slept with her then?”
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend, dummy.”
“She’s not my...” I started to protest.
“You have Gaby Bond!”
“It’s not what you think.”
“And just what do I think?”

Good question and just what do you, Sophia Thun und Taxis think our relationship is?

“When you two have finished gossiping, we’ve got a race to win,” Mand interrupted.
“Er yeah, be there.”
Tali waggled her eyebrows at me – sheesh, now she thinks I've got a Girlfriend!

The sky looks like we’re gonna get a dry ride and by all the bare arms and legs everyone else seemed to think the same. I hate this bit, well hate’s maybe a bit strong but all the pre race hanging about, I just want to get on with things. According to my computer we still have about ten minutes, for about the fifth time I checked that my jersey pockets were fully provisioned and took a sip from my bidon.

Racing up here a lot of the time, our northern contingent were busy exchanging pleasantries with those they know, the rest of us recognising far fewer of today’s field. It might be a Jungere League event but it’s a long way to travel and quite an expense if you live in Baden, Bavaria or even Saxony. A couple of riders have made the long journey north, I exchanged nods with a couple of lads I recognised from Baden the other week.

I can’t see either of them offering any assistance today, we worked the field over that day – we’ve probably not made many friends with our racing style. Of course at Jungere events they do a presentation to the crowd – I say crowd, more of a puddle of supporters. And yes, that means that I get to wear the nasty green series leader shirt – again.

The MC tried to get a bit of crowd action going but in the end we rolled out of Hörsten to the accompaniment of some ageing American rock band. Four laps of @ twenty kilometres each, not the longest race of the season and whilst one of the flatter that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy either. We barely cleared the de-limit signs when the green flag dropped, time for action.

Last year of course I won after a small group including Josh broke free, it would be too much to think the same could happen today. I have of course given my tactics some thought and the reality is that whilst the terrain suits a lone attack, the circuit, with its long, far seeing straights doesn’t. Which leaves either a repeat of last years small group attack or wait out a gallop at the finish.

I've probably got the beating of everyone here in a sprint but it could get messy if there are too many contesting. There is another option I suppose, watch and react – Dad hasn’t forbade us working together, we just don’t have a team plan. One thing Dad did suggest was for us not to ride together as we usually do, that in itself doesn't seem that strange but it is a break from our usual.

Things cranked up at the front and I found myself around twentieth wheel in a line out doing forty K under the trees of the first multi kilometres straight. With fresh legs all round it probably wasn’t going to do a lot of damage but it was fast enough to make escape difficult if not impossible. One disadvantage of being small is that I can’t easily see past the mostly much bigger opposition in situations like this, I had my ideas on who was driving this but couldn’t confirm them.

The situation didn’t change through the first turn, not much more than a kink really but the road narrows some and takes on the barest incline. A check behind revealed the expected picture, the peloton stretched out behind looking just the wrong side of comfortable. Of course this couldn’t go on sine die, Josh will tire but not before his efforts take a toll.

That point came as we hit a steeper incline, not steep exactly, you probably wouldn’t even change gear normally but the rise was enough to cause multiple elastic snapping in the line out. I made ten places in fifty metres as riders dropped off the pace even as the engine at the front slowed. As the road flattened off again, the speed increased again but it was quickly evident this wasn’t now just my team mates effort, well pretty obvious when he floated down the outside of the line a minute or two later.

“Big effort,” I offered.
“Don’t want too many in the bunch like.”
“Any sign of the others?”
He swivelled to look behind us, “Can’t see Tal but the rest are here.”

There seems to be some sort of rotation going on, another rider drifted backwards, Josh taking his cue to slip away.

When it came my turn on the front we’d already reached Osterholz where we don’t just turn into the restricted military zone but have to tackle the steepest climb of the day. I turned the screws a bit, it might be steeper but we’re talking 5% at most for all of four hundred metres. It wasn’t a serious attack but even so I made the summit turn with clear air, the huffing and puffing behind me an indication of my impact.

Sitting up, I took a draw on my bidon as the now messy bunch came back up to me. Ahead the ribbon of road stretched away across the heathland, a roller coaster ride between scrubby trees, bits of military vehicles and more substantial woodland. We dropped through the checkpoint and onto the effectively closed road that returns us to Hörsten.

I took the opportunity to check out the rest of the field, Gret and Mand passed me, Josh a few places in arrears but no sign of either Ron or Tali which is a bit weird. At a guess the main group here numbers about two thirds of the eighty odd starters. No time to go wool gathering, I slipped back into the flow of riders a sort of plan formulating in my head.

Our speed was a comfortable thirty, thirty five which meant a degree of bunching, the peloton spreading like this morning’s Nutella across the roadway. I took the opportunity to regain some road on the leaders who, at least for the moment seemed content to cruise. The road slunk into a bit of a dell, around a bend and past the car park for the Siebensteinhauser , the archaeology that Dad’s so keen on seeing sometime.

A few hardy fans cheered us through, it was still something of a procession to be honest. If we repeat for the next three laps we’ll still be in a bunch of about twenty last time around – still a bit risky. No sooner had I made the calculation than there was a flurry of activity at the head of affairs.

A clattering of gear changing, some cussing and the speed increased rapidly as we made the small climb away from the dell. I reacted of course, accelerating past some of those caught napping, something you can’t afford to do. Back into more open country the attack continued, stringing the peloton across the landscape in a multi hued ribbon.

Things eased after several minutes of this effort with us having reached Bredebeck, less a village than a few farm buildings but a sign we’d almost completed a lap.

A panting Manda slid towards me.
“That stirred things a bit.”
“The idea,” she panted.
“You?”
She nodded between gulps from her bottle, “Gret’ll go through the line.”
Anyone would think this was planned!

True to the intel no sooner had we made the turn onto the public road than another round of curses signalled Gret’s ‘attack’. Of course, as team mates we weren’t about to chase her down but escape wasn’t the purpose – this all about attrition. Josh came past, we exchanged looks and our by now subtle signalling set things in motion.

Gret’s effort started to falter after a kilo or so but Josh sprinted past her and away up the road. The more astute took off after him immediately, those less aware getting caught behind the rapidly slowing Gret. We might not’ve started with a game plan but we seem to be doing okay so far despite that.

I latched onto one of the Bavarians as he went past, well there’s no point in wasting energy is there? Josh kept the pressure on along the straight but sat up as we entered the woodland that surrounds the turn towards the north. His, and Gret’s of course, effort had succeeded in stringing out the race, a look around would suggest a bit more chaff has been shaken loose.

Although the Apollinaris engine eased off, the pace dropped only a little as others took up the challenge, our progress towards Osterholz continued at a similar speed to last time around. There was nothing like an organised rotation but the pace was being shared, I showed myself for a few metres at the front, Josh however was now keeping away from the action. We progressed steadily towards the climb, both Mand and Gret still hanging in, maybe not comfortably but who is?

The climb doesn’t exactly loom but the concrete surface starts to drag at your progress. We climbed at a steady rate, one that kept us in a group all the way to the turn into the military zone. I inwardly grinned, the non plan is coming together quite nicely.

Maddy Bell © 20.01.17