Race day. I looked out of the window, mist shrouded the view but through chinks in the greyness a perfect azure sky peered down from above. Well its early yet and the course is an hour away so no cause for alarm yet.

Having woken at my usual wake up hour I had plenty of time so after morning ablutions I set about gathering my gear for todays effort. Best race shoes – check, mitts – check, helmet – check, skinsuit, erm, which one? I pulled the first one out of its bag and held it up. The tiny garment was distorted by the shammy but even so it looked a bit odd, too much material, almost like a double layer across the lower back, like it was some sort of miscut sewn on.

Best check the other one I guess, not sure what I do if that's faulty too. However the second garment looked to be okay, to be on the safe side I set about pulling it on. If you’ve ever worn a leotard or even a one piece swimming costume you’ll know they can be a bit tricky, add legs and arms and a higher neck and it becomes more of a contortionist affair. Add in the cut and the required close fit and suddenly it becomes a really ‘interesting’ job.

It took me a few minutes to get the race suit comfortable, the thick pad felt a bit like wearing a nappy but it will be protecting my ‘bits’ and the ‘girls’ almost don’t need a BH being compressed so much. Hmm, best not go ‘au naturel’, bit too revealling, no a bra is essential for decency, everything else looks good though. Getting out was easier than in and once done I quickly had everything packed and ready to go racing.

 
A quick dress and I was down to the breakfast room, not first but not last either.

“Ready?” Annika enquired.
“As i’ll ever be, all packed and raring to go.”
“Good, we’ll leave as soon as you’ve eaten.”
“’kay,” I agreed, “oh yeah, the skinsuits, one of them must be faulty, its got some sort of double bit on the back?”
“Pockets,” she advised.
“Pockets? Why would you put pockets on a skinsuit?”
“For the road race, you need pockets for that yes?”
“Er yeah but I usually wear bibs and a jersey.”
“We thought we’d give you the option, wear which you are comfortable with, its UCI compliant so the choice is yours.”
“Er okay.”
“I’ll leave you to eat then.”

 
Whilst the breakfast bar offered everything from a warm buffet to cereal, I couldn’t face more than a bowl of joghurt and a single scrambled egg sandwich washed down with juice and coffee. I was on my second cup of the strong brew when Tali sat down opposite, dressed in her riding gear. (The others are going for a training ride before bussing out to do the spectator bit.)

“That all you’re having?”
“Yeah.”
“Not nervous are you?”
“A bit,” I admitted, “Dad’s usually doing all the flapping around, keeps me grounded like.”
“I guess,” she allowed.
“How good are you with braids?”
“Okay I guess.”
“You couldn’t do mine could you, I tried three times upstairs.”
“I guess so, I thought you were good at hair origami?”
“I wish,” I sighed, “Mand usually does it for me.”

 
“All ready?” Frank asked when I joined the time trial team outside.
“She’s a girl, they are never ready,” Tony opined.
“Where’s your other sock Martin?”

The idiot fell for it, even Frank had to stifle a chortle as he looked at his feet.

“Why you….”
“Kinder!” Laurin interjected, “we should go, Frank?”
“Indeed, I should be there before your start Gaby, in case i’m not good luck both of you, do your best out there.”
“Okay folks, in the auto,” Annika suggested as Leon arrived with the people carrier.

 
Compared to yesterday, the headquarters of todays events was awash with officialdom, security and bikes. Both events are based on a loop around Brantford, the lads extra ten kilometres made up with an extra loop just after the start. Yup, twenty eight kilometres, less than an hour’s effort for the top girls, I do of course include myself in that.

Being first up, Laurin and Anneka escorted me through the sign in process and through to the changing facilities. The organisers have us in some sort of college sports facility so whilst its communal changing there are decent showers and each team has access to a ‘prep’ area in the big sports hall. Which is where I found my support team once i’d wormed myself into the skinsuit again.

“Okay?”
“Nervous.”
“That’s good,” Anneka suggested, “many races are lost by over confidence.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Hop on the table then girl, lets get these legs ready eh,” Laurin suggested.

 
Where does the time go? By the time we returned to the great outdoors the first girls had already started and the parking lot was a hive of industry, mechanics er mechanicing, riders warming up on turbo’s or rollers, well the normal sort of pre race stuff you can see at races around the globe. To be honest, whilst i’ve ridden a few internationals, with some success, I don’t really know too many of my fellow competitors especially in this most specialised road discipline.

I could recognise jerseys though, Dutch orange, the green and yellow Aussies, the USA is pretty easy to spot of course. I did spot a couple of Team GB people but I didn’t recognise them and in any case they pretty much abandoned me - and Mum for that matter. No, my loyalties lie elsewhere now, a place where I live, work, study and ride, Japan – just kidding, Germany of course.

I sat myself in the van and admired my bike, Dad’s really rolled things out for me. Everything looked pristine, the superlight Corsa tubs on the carbon aero wheels, the cables all internal for aero, just the shortest length of bar tape on the cow horns, no bottle cage, close ratio gears, the latest aero pedals. It looks like a weapon, a serious speed weapon, the cutting edge of time trialling under the current rules.

“You okay on the Rollentrainer Gaby?” Leon asked.
“Er sure, if someone can hold me to get started?”
“Get your shoes on then.” he suggested.

We did have an Ezyup courtesy of the organisers and I was soon spinning along in its shade, the early mist now replaced by hazy sunshine. Time trial bikes and rollers aren’t exactly a great combination, the bars are too low to be comfortable and stable but as long as you are smooth going hands free works well.

Frank came into view and signalled five minutes, already? I took the bars and started warming down, Laurin wrapped a towel around my shoulders and Leon grabbed my bike, lifting me and bike off in one go. Now that was weird!

“Everything okay Gaby?” Frank asked.

Bit different to the do this, do that of BC, these guys are actually asking me if i’m ready, not telling me.

“I guess,” I allowed climbing off of my steed and swapping bike shoes for my Birkenstocks™.
“Okay,” Frank agreed, “lets do it then."

 
A few minutes later Frank and I were in the queue of competitors waiting for my turn to ascend into the launch tent. In an attempt at fairness, officially the event isn’t seeded, start positions are allocated by random selection. However the race is divided into two based on qualifying times over the distance, the fastest riders start at two minute intervals, the rest at one minute, at number seventy one i’m actually the first of group two, there are fifteen more girls starting after me over thirty minutes.

I adjusted my helmet again, fiddled with my glasses, yes i’ve followed Dad’s advice to remove the integrated visor to improve heat dissipation then all too soon Frank was lifting my bike up the steps and I clambered up after.

I used the chair at the top to swap footwear, Frank taking my sandals in exchange for my Pinarello. How many times have I done this, a few to be sure but still my heart was racing as I moved into the phalanx of officials controlling the start. Number seventy departed and I rolled into place, two minutes, well less than that to go.

 
“Thirty,” the blazer wearing starter intoned.

Calm down Gab, deep breaths, you can do this. I closed my eyes and relaxed, easing a crick from my neck as fifteen was called. Deep breath, grip the bars, concentrate.

“Ten,” then he did that thing counting down the last five with his hand, “five, four, three, two, one, go.”

I hit the go juice and launched myself down the ramp and into the narrow start pen, only vaguely aware of the cheering watchers and PA system. The first corner was too soon to have even got onto the tri bars but once through I went straight into aero and started to wind things up. Yesterday we practiced the last ten K with its twists and climb, before that i’ve got eighteen kilometres of at most lightly rolling straight roads, bring it on!

 
I was soon scudding along at over forty kph, pretty sure I need more to win but there’s a way to go yet. A quick glance at the comp suggested I was riding at about ninety five percent, even though it felt like a hundred and twenty. Relax girl, you can do this.

Somehow I slowed my breathing and immediately felt more relaxed, the comp was ticking away the metres, five kilometres, is that all? Well that does leave me twenty three to do my biz, I concentrated on my pedalling action, pedalling round instead of the alternate stabs it felt like I was using. A glance up the road provided the final element, she might have started two minutes ahead of me but the sight of her provided the final element, the carrot!

Finally I was in the zone, me, the bike, the road, in complete harmony. My tyres hummed along the Canadian blacktop, only my whirring legs moving, girl and machine in perfect harmony. I zipped through the twenty to go arch, twelve minutes ticked over, well it’s close to the schedule i’d discussed with Anneka yesterday but a few seconds behind – time to step things up a bit.

 
The distance to my carrot rapidly closed, with a full road closure I was able to drift wide around her and her service bike, staying there after the pass to give her no chance of drafting. There was a slight rise, a motorway intersection, the resulting ramp down provided just enough help for my speed to touch fifty k’s for a bit before dropping to a more sustainable forty five. Like yesterday the wind was being kind, I only realised i’d been riding into it when the course turned and I felt it catching the rear disc.

We’d talked about this, to use a disc or not, the advantages can easily be nullified if the wind is ‘wrong’ but not today. I dropped a sprocket to keep my cadence up, pushing a higher gear has its place but not at this point in this event. Another rider, well I think the dot in the distance is a rider, provided a new target to chase after.

It was barely perceptible but the road gradually turned, the wind moving from front shoulder to side to rear shoulder and I was soon spinning the thirteen sprocket to great effect. Yesterday I took a minute out of Tony, today its three minutes out of number sixty eight rather than the sixty nine I was expecting. Not only that I recognised the jersey, the blue and red BC strip, one of two riders they’re fielding today.

That was more than enough encouragement for me to complete the coup des gras, I passed closer this time, making a specific effort to make the move look effortless. I don’t mean to be mean but Manda should’ve had one of those two slots, this one’s for Miss de Vreen. She was obviously giving her all, she wasn’t going that badly but world class time triallist she’s not!

 
A harder turn put the wind almost directly behind and then I was through the ten to go inflatable and I recognised the road from yesterday afternoon. Another dot ahead provided inspiration and I was soon spinning the twelve to great, fifty kph, effect. Then she got larger in my view very quickly, the mechanic was just replacing her front wheel as I zipped past, tyres singing loudly on this stretch of fairly pristine tarmac.

Yesterday I hit the nitro a bit early, almost overcooking things early, but the wind is a bit stronger today and it is all or nothing right? The ‘big’ climb is hardly Everest, barely twenty metres over something like a kilometre just after km twenty two. Being forewarned I adapted my effort to keep a good cadence whilst maintaining a good speed over the summit.

There’s not really a payback, more of a false flat if anything and at this point yesterday I was already weaving a bit, not today. I kept the gear down, the HR steady at two oh eight, the clock was already past twenty eight minutes, well its now or never.

And there ahead, the one kilometre kite and the series of bends around the college campus to the line. Come on Gabs, last bit, all of it! I pushed out those extra few grams of power, I had a line in my head and went into the first bend without more than the tiniest bit of deviation.
I gritted my teeth and pushed ever harder, the red, then the black quickly started to cloud my peripheral vision. It was a no brainer though, the idea of easing off never even crossed my mind and then I could see the finish gantry. The big digital display looked like thirty nine something, no point fretting, last effort.

Its all too easy to fail at the last hurdle, sit up before the line, think back to Roskilde, even one one hundreth of a second can be crucial. I was aimed at the line so the fact I closed my eyes as I threw in my last grains of effort only opening them as a lot of shouting got my attention didn’t matter. The brakes went on, the back tyre locked and as I skidded to a halt in front of Frank there was an explosion.

Maddy Bell © 19.10.2018