Page 90 of Head Over Wheels

LoonieDunes: You’ll thank me for this when you’re my age.

Folklore: Fuck off, Seb. Don’t text me unless it’s congratulations on winning.

Chapter 35

Seb

After she left, I lined up every morning, more numb than anything else. The sun beat down on the peloton and every day was a battle of attrition that not all of us survived. Although each team was only allowed eight riders, one of our bigger, richer rival teams dominated the bunch, keeping the pace brutally high.

Derek developed saddle sores that looked like World War Three in his shorts, so he was sent home. Lars picked up a stomach bug and, although he battled on, he missed the timecut on a particularly brutal mountain stage and that was it for him this year. Losing two riders increased the surface area of Tony Gallagher’s bald spot by at least half and our pool of prize money was also looking sparse, despite Colin picking up a few euros here and there with decent finishes.

If I hadn’t been this close to my limit many times before, I might have panicked, but I wasn’t going to cave – not on my last Tour. I was just going to suffer, which I had quite anappetite for. Colin maintained a good standing in the general classification rankings, but no one really expected him to win it. Tony talked big on the team bus every morning, but he knew it too.

I couldn’t see either Tony or Colin without thinking of Lori. Every evening, I rolled over in bed and my mind played imaginary text-message conversations with her teasing me, until I realised what I was doing and started panicking.

Could people fall in love over text messages and virtual training rides? It was a stupid question. Of course they could. I had the evidence for it every time I looked in the mirror and saw in my expression the part of me that was missing.

I’d loved her – last year on Zpeed, I’d already loved her in an abstract way. Now she’d turned my real life upside down I struggled to imagine it without her.

It had all been real. She’d made excuses because she thought she had to be tough and I’d believed her because the alternative was believing in myself and I’d never been good at that.

Reliving that awful conversation at least twice a day, I couldn’t move past her accusation that I’d given up. She was right, I had. But I wasn’t sure I could truly believe she’d stay.

In the third week of the Tour, the DS adapted our strategy. Now Colin had settled into a solid position in the general classification, stage wins came into play and that was when the director said just about the only words capable of shocking me back into real life.

‘Amir and Nelson will stay with Colin. And Frankie? Are you ready to have a go?’

My gaze snapped up.Noooooo.I was happily Colin’s support rider, managing the team in the peloton and quietly suffering. But aiming for a stage win that I surely wouldn’t achieve? Allowing the others to ride in support of me?

I heard Lori’s voice in my head – again – telling me I had nothing to lose, which certainly felt true that day. The chances of winning were low, but… not nothing. Could I believe it? Not for her, but for me?

‘Come on, boy. Your legs don’t just shut down. It’s your head that’s the problem. But if you think you can’t do it, I’m not—’

The words erupted from deep in my chest. ‘I can do it.’

Lori

‘That’s it, Lori! “Top Gun” strikes back! That’s our girl!’

As I crested the hill, even the director’s gravelly praise in his ponderous Welsh accent didn’t break through the fuzz of detachment in my head.

While my lungs burned, heaving in thin mountain air, and my muscles screamed, I was thinking about how ‘Top Gun Strikes Back’ sounded like a parody film about X-Wing pilots at the special rebel academy, with Darth Maverick in the central role. Seb would laugh so—

Seb would never hear my stupid joke.

As I came to a stop by the team car, the DS Alf clapped me on the shoulder. ‘You’re back, as strong as ever! Tony is going to be so happy with everything I’ve got to tell him.’

I managed a smile, but he thankfully turned away beforehe looked close enough to see it hadn’t reached my eyes. I was satisfied with my performance, proud of my hard work. But ‘happy’ looked quite different from my feelings after that epic training ride. I felt as though I’d lost all orientation since coming up to train at altitude. I wanted to win, yes. But that couldn’t beeverything. The goal felt so empty.

But there was nothing else in my life the week before the most prestigious women’s stage race in the calendar. Was there ever anything else in my life?

There had been, up until last week…

Doortje eyed me as she tugged off her helmet. One small mercy of this training camp was that I wasn’t rooming with my old friend. She’d grill me until I broke down and blubbered about falling in love. Instead, Leesa was in the other bed in my room and I only had to ignore the pinch of jealousy when she effortlessly put on a light brush of make-up and used big words, when I usually poked myself in the eye with the mascara wand and said ‘fuck’ for all occasions.

‘Are you okay?’ Doortje asked.

I forced another smile. ‘In great shape.’

---