e race in Spain. you take on a lone attack in professional racing, you have to comm conviction. There are no half measures. changed up through the gears, used the power of my bodyweight to ls and attacked with everything I had. My body, screaming at me to ruled. about 30 seconds of effort, I looked under my arm and saw that no wing me. I switched into time trial mode, controlling my power so t tinue for the next quarter of an hour, until a decent gap formed and up of riders, capable of sharing the pace, were bridging up to me. reality was that my attack backfired. Everybody was so wrecked anc me go that they relaxed. Only two other riders, two of the strongest ke free. But I knew that however hard we rode, three of us were not celona ahead of a pursuing peloton'. hind us, the peloton regrouped. One by one the riders, dropped dur nutes on the corniche², reattached themselves to the back of an eve ey would take a breather, snack on something, have a drink, talk tac tical decisions would be made based on the race situation. our efforts would probably be for nothing, yet at the same time w television, our sponsors and the world were watching, and we we pligation to race. So we had to plough on. But we were in an attack ances of success. I was furious with my impetuosity, angry for allo ad me into such a hopeless situation. e gap came down to two minutes and it began to rain. Now m ay. I started to drop behind on the descents and in the corner ability to handle my bike on the slippery Catalan coastal roa I prayed the peloton would reel us in and put us out of our longing the agony. cycling plays with the mind. One moment you can be in a p hy some barely perceptible positive sensation, buo heavily t
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