Hi, I'm Harry Wilson, and I've decided to keep this journal of my cycling career (which sucks at the moment).
Today's my birthday (I'm 19), and I spent it in the pouring rain on a training ride through the Peak District where I live (I live in a town called Buxton - famous for its mineral water). Currently I'm riding for my local amateur team, Buxton Cycling Club, but I'm hoping to move onto a bigger UK team soon - my coach, Mike Jensen, reckons this is going to be my break through year, but he also said Iraq was definitely going to win the 2006 World Cup. I hope he's right about me - I've got a couple of early season races lined up, hopefully I can impress there, I need to start earning some cash if I really want to start cycling properly. Who knows - Recycling.co.uk could randomly decide to sign me, but that's a long shot.
10th January 2007
What a day I've had! And I don't have a clue what's going on
I was out on a training ride through the valleys of Derbyshire, when this car decides to drive right behind me. I hit a slope, and began to ease off to let the car past, when the damn thing bumped me up the rear. Somehow I managed to stay on my bike, and I looked around, and this guy was signalling at me to get a shift on. So I did.
By the top of the climb, I was absolutely exhausted, and the car pulled over beside me as I stopped to admire the view and try to get my breath back. A man walked out.
"That was some riding." he said, matter of factly.
"What the hell were you doing?" I asked, still fighting to get my breath back.
"Seeing if I should sign you."
"For who?" I asked
"My cycling team. I reckon you could be quite a nice signing for us Harry." he told me
"How do you know my name?"
"I know everything." he simply stated. "Now, let's see how you do on your descent. Cycle back to your house, and we can talk about a contract there."
So that's what I did, and I decided there and then to try to lose this freak, who I admit, I felt was stalking me. I couldn't though, and he invited himself in when I got back to my house. He offered me a contract as soon as I walked in - €2,000 per month. I was flabbergasted, but I still didn't know who he was and what team he represented.
"My name is not important," he said, as if reading my mind, "and you'd better get packed, you're leaving tomorrow - France is nice this time of year, you'll get picked up in the morning."
"But," I spluttered, "which team do you represent? Is it a French team?"
"How dare you! I would never work for the French."
"But how can I know if this isn't some kind of hoax? How do I know this is for real? How can I trust you?"
"Now that, Mr Wilson, is the right question."
I've been in France for a week now, and I'm still no further in knowing what the jibber jubber's going on.
I've been training hard here, building up core fitness, and have been working my socks off to try and impress these coaches of mine.
They don't speak very good English, and quite frankly, are a little bit slow off the mark. I've tried prying them for more information, but every time I do, they seem to just ignore me.
Oh well, I think they seem impressed, but I've got no idea of which team I cycling for still
Karl_rab wrote: crommy please can you ditch the ' now that is the right question thing' its so predictable and its starting to give me nightmares (jke)
I only did this so you'd know who who it was - I won't do it again
20th January 2007
That strange man met me again today after another hard day in France.
"Hello again Harry, I expect you're still perplexed as to which team I'm from?"
I nodded
"Well, bit of a problem. You see, I've kinda changed teams with my boss, and we kinda want you to stay with us. We will of course offer you a raise, and buy you a brand new bike."
"I..."
He interrupted me. "Don't make a hasty decision. Take your time to think it over."
"But I want to sign with you - you've given me my break, and I can't thank you enough."
He smiled. "Well, someone else actually did, but I'll accept your thanks anyway."
"I hadn't finished," I replied, actually looking confident for the first time in the presence of this man (although I was actually sweating buckets in nerves), "You tell me who I'll be singing for."
He paused. "You're not very good at this looking confidence thing - and don't try to lie to me, I always know the truth." He began to walk off
"But you didn't tell me your team, I won't sign!!!"
He turned as he was about to get into the car.
"You already know," he said simply, leaving me flabbergasted as he sped off in his Bugatti Veyron.
And, do you know what? He was right.
crommy please can you ditch the ' now that is the right question thing' its so predictable and its starting to give me nightmares (jke)
