When you watch the pro’s on telly or even just read the reports, the success rate of moves like today's is pretty small. Oh it’s not unheard of but how many times does the escape get caught on the last climb or even in sight of the finish? The problem is pretty much that the escapees run out of energy just as everyone else decides they haven’t got anything to lose by making a big effort.

"Gab,” Tal whispered as we approached the next incline.
"Yeah? You alright?”
"Ish, look we’ll do what we can but we’re both pretty much done.”

Well it’s not like it wasn’t expected but it drops our chances of success significantly – especially after having lost Josh so early. I guess that’s the way the dice rolls.

"Big effort into the climb?”
"No promises, Gab,” she allowed before moving forward ready to take a turn on the front.
"Problem?” Paul asked dropping back from his own pace setting effort.
"Nah, just the usual,” I allowed with a shrug, no point in putting seeds of doubt in Paul’s head.
 
Gret swapped my nearly empty bottle for her full one as Innerthausen led us down to Adenau for the third and final time, I stuffed another half energy bar down my gullet – as ready as I'll be. We swooped down the wide strip of tarmac still in a tight group, no puncture this time please. I started to get a bit edgy, pre effort nerves perhaps.

The girls played their part right up to the first ramp, Tal the first to crack, one second she was slapping the pedals round, the next she was gone. Gret managed a few metres more before sitting up, now it’s just the two of us – not quite the plan but hopefully the girls will provide some distraction for the bunch. Paul didn’t notice Gret’s disappearance at first, by the time he did we were already out of the saddle to maintain as much speed as possible on the climb.

As it levelled we returned to our saddles, I took a swig from a bidon.

"Just you and me now, eh Bondt?”
"Looks like,” I agreed.
"Your big friend would be handy about now, eh?”
No kidding.
"More leg, less mouth,” I suggested.

He inclined his head before returning attention to the job in hand, several more kilometres of climbing.
 
"Stay alert,” Josh mentioned to his team mates as the peloton dropped into Adenau, "Bound to be some chancer.”
"Surprised we’ve not seen Tal and Gret,” Mand observed, echoing Gab’s feed of a couple of minutes previous.
"Not sure if that’s good or bad,” Ron mentioned.
"How about another feint?” Mand suggested.
"Don’t look at me, I've nothing spare like,” Josh admitted.
"I'll do it,” Mand volunteered, "Pull their teeth a bit.”
“First ramp’d be best,” the Toon advised.
 
We weren’t exactly motoring up the slopes of Hohe Acht, oh not crawling but we were hovering a little above ten kph. Side by side, trading pedal stroke for pedal stroke, we rose through the trees. So far the neutral service was still with us, we should have thirty seconds at least, its return means the girls have lost ground rapidly.

Dad’s plan called for a minute at the summit – not that from the front there’s any way to really know the gap. It’s under ten kilometres to the finish line from the top, ten fairly flat but exposed kilometres. We really need each other at least up to the GP circuit, I can’t imagine no one in the main field will have a pop.
 
Tal watched Gab and Paul pull away from Gret, it looked like she’d simply stopped dead. Oh they’d get to the finish alright but this third ascent was already taking a mighty toll. She crawled up the incline, slowly overtaking her friend, was that voices, a grating of gears?

A quick glance behind and all hope of surviving went west, there, coming around the last corner, a growing mass of bobbing heads, the peloton. Oh well, it had been good while it lasted. She reached the even slower Gret.

"They’re coming, G.”
Gret, glassy eyed, just kept pedalling a slow cadence in her lowest gear too exhausted to comment.
 
The last ramp, almost a kilometre long and reaching ten percent more than once, slowly revealed itself, was our escape really only twenty K ago? Come on, Gabs, not far now. We rose as one and continued to match turns of the crank, the lanky youth towering over my diminutive form as the upward crawl continues.

"Bunch, last corner,” Paul gasped across.

I'd avoided looking back up to now but I couldn’t help glancing under my arm. Hmm, actually not so bad, they didn’t appear to be travelling any faster than us – oh we’d be in sight from the front but I reckon time wise we’re a good minute ahead. Not enough to start counting chickens but close to Dad’s plan.

"Effort from bend,” I huffed.

He gave a short nod and I returned to watching our shadows on the asphalt.
 
Mand’s ‘attack’ might’ve dulled a few legs but, Josh mused, enough? Gret and Tal had been swallowed and spat out in short order, Mand was just about hanging in, Ron was puffing a bit and as for himself, legs like foam bananas. Is that Gab up the road? If it is it looks like game over.
 
It seemed an eternity getting to the bend but there was method in waiting, a stretch of much shallower gradient. I sank back to the saddle pushing the Ergo paddle as I did so, no point in wasting energy over-revving. Hunching over the bars I forced the pedals round and as the speed started to rise, an up change kept the momentum going.

My companion matched my effort first alongside then offering a wheel to follow. We traded effort several times before the gradient started to bite again, depending on the bunch’s reaction to the ease in climbing effort our energy expenditure might’ve garnered a few extra seconds. The last pull is fairly straight, we’ll be back in sight all too soon, a tempting carrot for anyone with the legs.

The slope eased and the summit hove into view, yes!
 
I kicked a bit harder, temporarily breaking free of Innerthausen, oh yeah, it’s on! He was back with me by the time we started downhill and despite the burning in my and no doubt his thighs we hit time trial mode. From barely holding ten kph on the climb we were soon nudging forty using all the circuit width to get the best line.

All too soon we started on the Döttinger Höhe drag, conscious that we’ll be in view pretty much up to the GP circuit. Well we can do something about that although the service bike will give us away. Whatever, I angled towards the left hand kerb, at least we won’t be as obvious as riding up the middle of the tarmac.

Question now is how do I handle Innerthausen? So far he’s matched me at every move since our escape, uphill, downhill, rotation after rotation. I think I’ve got the upper hand if it comes to a sprint but dare I leave it to that? What we can’t afford to do is start mucking about, either of us.

We crested the climb, by the service bike’s continuing presence we still have over thirty seconds. There were more people around the grandstand / finish area this time – of course, the men’s events follow this afternoon.
"Go Gab!”
"Girl power!”
"Dig, dig!”
"Minute!”
The last was Dad, guess he’d timed us on from the crest, but a full minute, oh yeah! That single word buoyed my enthusiasm, I had to stop myself making a celebratory arm pump, after all we still have five kilometres to ride. Once again I contemplated my companion’s form.
 
Of course I wasn’t the only one thinking about the finale and I wasn’t the first to act either. The lankmeister hit the go button and stood on the pedals, accelerating forward, maybe not as fast as he’d like. I wasn’t quite on the back foot, I'd been contemplating something similar myself so I was able to follow his move with minimal delay.

Foiled once he wasn’t to be denied, I'd barely got my breath before he went again, sugar, this needs a new tactic. Instead of rushing up to him I took a more measured approach this time, if he wants to waste energy that's his choice, I've got a better use for my resources. He was clearly frustrated when my shadow gave my return away, I'm nothing if not stubborn in my determination to win.

We swooped around the far end of the circuit, I reckon he’s got one more attack in him and we’ve got three kilometres. Sit tight girl, don’t panic, you’ve got this. He was constantly checking where I was, hmm he favours his right shoulder, useful.

I took a swig from my bottle before expressing the rest of the contents on the road – hey, we can’t afford to lob them like the pro’s do. I checked the rest of my kit, tightened my shoes, adjusted the zip of my jersey, straightened my helmet, time to boogie!

“Oh bum!”
Paul swivelled his head to me, right side – just checking.
"Broken nail,” I grinned, vaguely indicating a digit.

There was some rolling of eyes and he returned his attention to riding.
 
Attempt number three wasn’t long in coming after that, no subterfuge just another out of saddle effort, shorter and less convincing than before. I followed once again more slowly, two more corners and the finishing straight, fifteen hundred metres. It’s not ideal that the last turn is right hand but that's how it is.

He tried for a long one of course, I stayed tight this time before flicking left as we took the bend. His glance right gave me the opening and I hit full gas.
 
You get a feel for these things and still fifty metres short of the line I sat up and checked behind. Paul had indeed thrown in the towel, I'd hoped for that but he was in danger of losing even second place as the bunch barrelled onto the straight behind him. No worry for me, I straightened my jersey and made a two arm victory salute, a grin plastered across my features.

I pulled over to the side and turned to watch the main gallop, Paul had been alerted to the danger but too late. A swamp of riders crossed the line, they’ll need a photo to sort any of the other places. Josh pulled up and we bumped fists.

"Nice going, Gab, thought we were gonna get yer on that last lap.”
"Ha, give her an inch,” Mand added joining us.
"Team work, guys,” I allowed, “where’re the others?”
“Ron was contesting,” Manda advised.
“Quite a few got tailed on that last lap man, apparently someone was still ahead,” Josh observed with a smile.

They might’ve lost contact but they provided the foundation of my win, everyone has contributed today.

The officials were keen to get our event off the track, the senior women’s event swept through in short order for their own final lap. I looked for Mum, I think I saw the rainbow jersey but I couldn’t say for sure, a couple of smaller groups followed through along with the last stragglers from the junior event.
 
"In third place, riding for Thuringen Radsport, Paul Innerthausen!” the MC enthused.

Yeah he claimed a podium place by a tyre, just dessert for his efforts.

"Second place, for Apollinaris, Veronike Grönberg!”

We shouted and cheered her onto the podium before the crowd calmed for the most important announcement.

“And completing an Apollinaris one two for the Gerolsteiner Junior Grand Prix, our very own, Gabrielle Bond!”

I made my way to the top step, shaking Paul’s hand on the way. The cheering was longer this time – hey I deserve it! Lower place trophies were presented then it was my turn, whoever the dignitary was shook my hand then presented me with the quite impressive Gerolstein Cup – big enough I needed assistance to do the victory pot waving.
 
Once the presentation was over we returned to the team ‘enclosure’ where Dad and Dieter made short work of the pack up while us riders made use of our new changing facility to lose our salt crusted gear.

“Only thing you haven’t got in here is a washing machine,” Tal observed as she waited to use the lav.
"Now there’s an idea,” Mand smirked, "The Apollinaris laundry.”
"Don’t give Dad ideas.”
No he’ll have one fitted before you can shout Daz!
 
The senior event? Well I'd like to say Mum won but she didn’t, no it was that Vos woman who claimed top spot in their gallop. Tina grabbed third so they weren’t empty handed, Mum kept out of trouble to grab tenth which she was quite content with. Now me, I would have had to throw everything in the pot.

Maddy Bell © 13.03.17