This was the third official scouting race, organised by the ICU.

The first races had been in Portugal and Italy,
but because of some issues with transportation,
I only managed to make this my first scouting race.



The terrain was mountainous and the Spanish heat
loomed over the dawn, I had a terrible feeling.
It was way too hot to race that day.



We raced the scouting races in National Teams.
Some were more keen to work together
than others, though.

For the French team, it was easy:

Jimmy Licina was the son of famous general Licina,
who has fought and died bravely in WW III.
He had a few guys riding for him.

Others came from wealth,
and were able to buy a few
helping hands. It didn't even
matter much where they came from.

A wheel is a wheel.
And as for the rest of us...

The rest of us were on our own.



Kästner, a German talent,
was the first to launch a big attack.



He lost it a few meters from the line.
The crowd cheered enormously loud for the
Swedish rider Yuri Jorgensson. The reason was
simple. If it weren't for him, the winner would've been
Simon Davidson, an American. The enemy, most would say.



As for me, I had a rough time.
The heat had turned my
insides to juice and
I had troubles
finishing.

I'm pretty sure the scouts hadn't even
seen me that day. But later that day,
laying in bed, I was wondering
if that were a bad thing.

I needed to shape up, soon.

The big day. Joseph's chance to catch the scout's attention.
Sure I may have used my cycling background to get him into this race,
but it had to be his talent alone that got him out of the amateur ranks.

Nothing I could do but sit back and be a spectator like the rest of you.



Expectations were extremely low, these were the top scouted riders in the world. Joseph had only been training for a couple of months now,
So, just completing the 250kms would be an achievement really.



Team USA didn’t think Joseph was going to last the full race either I guess.
They had him pulling back early breakaway attempts.



After a few kilometers Joseph finally figured out what the team was doing to him and he let off the gas a little bit. This allowed a three man breakaway to get away: Antonio Rizzo, Jesse Van Der Poel, and Jorge Moreno.



180kms to go and the breakaway pulled out to a 10 minute lead.
If Joseph wanted to impressive some people
this was the time to start chasing...

Looks like I needed to go back to the basics and teach him about tactics again.



Never mind, 50kms to go and he was struggling at the back of the peloton.
He needed more endurance training before talking about race strategy.
There was a lot of work left to be done. But, he was getting there.



Joseph quickly found himself in a chase group behind the peloton.
He casually rode him within that group finishing 6 minutes behind the winner.

Up front the race was wide open.
Peter Clarke jumped the gap to Van Der Poel and Moreno
while Rizzo couldn't match the pace and dropped off.



With 3kms left Alex Lamond and Luke Alice dashed for the line
in the hopes of bringing back the trio to win their home scouting race.



The Canadians helped the peloton rapidly close the gap but Clarke holds on!
The late attack got the job done, scouts will love his fighting spirit.

In England, people liked to do things different.
When our self-appointed coach for the English
Scouted Race gave the order to attack on the left side
of the road, I wasn't quite sure whether to laugh or to cry.



I decided to do neither and show myself. I attacked, early on!
It was 250 kilometers, so I was going off on a suicide attack,
but a suicide draws a crowd, and I needed to show myself
in these scouting races if I wanted to make it as
a cyclist! I didn't want to prove my dad
right. Cycling was still beautiful!





After 30 kilometers, a Dane joined me.
That was it. More than 200 kilometers
left and it was just me and one other
guy. Really? I had high hopes (!)



Yet the peloton was reluctant to let us go too far.
I once heard a name travels further than any
man can. And I guess mine traveled fast,
too. We stood our ground and kept
the peloton at 4 minutes, tops.

When the peloton neared
and it was still more than 30 km,
I tried to shake off the Danish wheelsucker.

No luck.



The French Garde,
unmistakingly riding
for "General" Jimmy Licina,
was closing the gap fast. Wow.
Thanks a lot guys, really appreciated.



Finally, we got caught. Our 200 km adventure had come to an end.



As if I wanted to shake off the shadow hanging
over my name more than I wanted to shake off
the peloton, I accelerated once more. My legs were
heavier than ever, but it was an instinct, I just acted on it!



Two kilometers later,
I was dead. So
very dead.
Dead.

I felt I had wasted a day, giving everything, receiving nothing in return.



This man took the victory today. Once again,
the Swedish son of a butcher: Yuri Jorgensson!



I finished the race,
and oddly enough,
received more applaus
than the winner himself.

Maybe I had done the right thing that day after all...