Olympic Dream (11 page)

“I’ve heard that track races are a whole different
world from racing outdoors,” Doug said. “I can’t wait to check it out!”

“Me, either,” Billy agreed.

When Saturday morning arrived, Doug, Red, and Billy were all in need of some cheering up. The Rails project had officially
closed down the afternoon before and each of them was feeling a sense of failure.

Their moods lifted when they boarded the bus along with other members of the Lakeridge Cycling Club. Everyone was excited
about seeing the races. Three hours later, they were seated in the stands at the Westwood Velodrome, eagerly waiting for the
Olympic trials to begin.

The Velodrome was a cavernous building. Below the bleachers was a special oval track. Its sides were steeply banked so that
it looked like a long, shallow bowl. It was marked off with lanes and different start and finish lines for races of various
lengths. Cyclists in all sorts of uniforms were warming up, talking to their coaches, and checking their equipment. The air
was thick with anticipation.

Doug consulted his program for the order of events. There was to be a series of sprints first, then a
series of time trials. Last, they would see the individual pursuit races.

Doug thought back to the book he had read on track racing. Sprints, he knew, were 1,000-meter-long races, or three times around
the track. But the cyclists were timed only for the last 200 meters. For the rest of the race, they were supposed to try to
get in the best position for the final push. “Tactical maneuvering” was what Doug’s book had called it. He wasn’t really sure
what that meant.

He looked up when the announcer called for the first race. Two cyclists lined up at the start. The flag went down and the
race was on.

To Doug’s surprise, the riders didn’t seem to be pedaling hard. Instead, they looked to be concentrating on swerving back
and forth, trying to outguess each other. Then, in the middle of the second lap, they came to a complete stop.

Billy almost fell off his chair.

“What happened?” he asked excitedly.

“Quiet down,” Red said softly. “They’re trying to psych each other out. It’s part of the strategy. Whoever pulls out in front
creates a slipstream that the other guy can draft on. Nobody wants to be the one
doing the work only to have the other guy benefit from it.”

Finally, just when Doug thought he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, one of the bikers bolted ahead and the race continued.
During the final lap, their legs were a blur. Doug sat on the edge of his seat and yelled with the rest of the crowd. The
noise was deafening, but it didn’t faze the bikers. They powered across the finish line almost neck and neck.

Doug slid back into his seat. It was one of the most exciting races he’d ever seen. He couldn’t wait for the next one to start.

For the next hour, he, Red, and Billy watched the sprinters. To add to the fun, Doug and Billy chose a biker to root for during
each race.

“Red Shirt is going to out-psych his opponent,” Billy whispered. “He looks determined.”

“Nah,” Doug whispered back. “Purple Shorts will blow him out of the water in the last lap!”

Sometimes Billy’s man won and sometimes Doug chose the victor. Red just shook his head and grinned.

When the sprints were over, Red asked the boys if they were hungry. They were.

“Then let’s head to the concession stand. Oh, and I
have a treat to give you afterward, too,” he added mysteriously.

They wove their way through the spectators and found the snack bar. After some turkey sandwiches and a banana apiece, Red
disappeared with a brief, “I’ll be back.”

A moment later he reappeared. “Well, here’s the treat I promised!” Red called to them.

Doug saw that Red was no longer alone. A cyclist dressed in tight black shorts and an electric-blue top was standing with
him. Doug recognized him as one of the sprinters they had watched earlier.

“This is Eric Sanders, an old cycling buddy of mine. Eric, this is Doug Cannon and Billy Torrant.”

They all shook hands. “Red thought you guys might like to take a closer look at an indoor racing bike,” Eric said. “Would
you?”

Doug’s eyes widened. “Would we ever!” he said excitedly. Billy nodded eagerly.

“Well, follow me to the locker room, then,” Eric said. He led the way.

Eric’s bike was different from anything Doug had ever seen. The wheels had no spokes. Instead, colorful disks filled the space
between the tires and the
axles. The front tire was just a bit smaller than the back one. And instead of the curved handlebars of a ten-speed or the
straight-across ones of a mountain bike, Eric’s jutted out in front of his bike, curving just slightly upward at the end.
Doug noticed something else, too.

“Where are the brakes?” he asked.

Eric laughed. “There are no brakes,” he replied. “Not really. If you want to stop or slow down, you have to pedal backward.”

Doug recalled that Red had told him about that at the beginning of the summer, when he was showing him his different bikes.

“Hey, and you have to keep pedaling all the time, right? Because there’s no freewheel or gears!”

Eric nodded. “Right. And get a load of this.” He slipped his index finger under the top tube of the bike’s frame and lifted
the bike easily. “It weighs less than fifteen pounds!”

“It’s a beauty, Eric,” Red said quietly.

Doug looked at him quickly. He realized for the first time that Red and Eric must have met when Red was still cycling competitively.
He wondered how Red felt now that he was just a spectator.

Then a bell rang, signaling the start of a new series of races. They all thanked Eric and hustled out of the locker room.

But Doug couldn’t stop thinking about Red. What would it be like to have a dream snatched out of your hands? Was it worth
even trying for a distant goal if something like that could happen?

Red seemed to read his thoughts. “You know, I think Eric was more upset than I was that I had to give up racing after my accident.
He said I was the best competition he’d ever had. He’s a good friend. I never would have met him if it hadn’t been for cycling.
Kind of the way you two guys might not have met. Guess that’s why I won’t ever regret having taken up the sport, even though
I lost out on my chance to go the distance.”

Doug and Billy exchanged a glance. Doug could see that Billy hadn’t looked at it that way, either. He realized, too, that
he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without cycling. Even if he never reached beyond amateur races, like the Tour
de Lake-ridge, he knew he would continue with his chosen sport.

But he wasn’t about to stop trying to reach beyond.
He turned his attention back to the action on the track. Yet even as he watched, cheered, and absorbed information about
the various races, he felt sure that
his
destiny lay in a different arena—an outside arena composed of winding, tree-lined roads, not indoor oval tracks.

The next day, Billy couldn’t stop talking about the races they’d seen.

“I think I’m a sprinter,” he said. “I love it when I can really put on the steam and zoom away. I like the idea of out-psyching
my opponent on the track. These long runs are good training, but give me a burst of speed any day.”

“Not me,” Doug said. “I like to work at keeping a steady pace, just building it up slowly, then really going for it at the
end. I think I’m a distance guy.”

Billy looked at him curiously. “You said that so seriously,” he remarked. “Like maybe it’s not just for fun anymore.”

Doug shrugged. “You know, I don’t think it is. For me, anyway. And you, too, I think. I mean, where’s
the rest of our beginner’s group? A bunch of quitters. They didn’t have what it takes. We do!”

“All I know is I’d give anything to test out a real indoor racing bike like Eric Sanders had.”

“Maybe you will someday. Listen, I say we make a pact—to stick together and help each other every step of the way. What
do you say?”

Billy had stuck out his hand for Doug to shake. “Boy, you sure get all fired up!”

“I guess spending all that time with Red sank in. But hey, I’m still the fun-loving guy I always was!” He grabbed his water
bottle, flicked it open, and squeezed it in Billy’s direction. In return, he got a cold spray of water from Billy’s bottle
right in the face.

A bottle of champagne was popped open right behind Doug. He could almost feel a fizzy spray on the back of his neck.

As he moved away, a waiter with a tray of little sandwiches came up to him. He just shook his head. He’d stick to the raw
veggies and fruit platter. He’d changed his biking gear for a tuxedo for the day and
he was proud of the way he looked, all decked out in his fancy threads. If hanging on to that feeling meant passing on treats,
well, he was ready to do just that.

After all, it was a treat just being here. Kate’s wedding meant a day off from training. It was a good break, though, between
the end of summer and the start of school. He’d begin on a whole new training schedule once classes started. Even though Billy
would be going to a different school across town, they’d agreed to keep up their mutual effort.

“Looking good there, pal,” said Red, munching on one of the little sandwiches.

Doug hadn’t seen much of Red since the West-wood trip. Red was too busy getting ready for medical school.

“Are you through packing?” Doug asked.

“I still have a lot to do,” Red admitted. “Your-folks have been great, though. They said I could store any stuff in the carriage
house I couldn’t take with me.” He took another bite of his sandwich. “It’s going to be hard parting with my bikes, but I
can’t see having all three with me at school.”

Doug’s ears pricked up at that. “You’re leaving your bikes behind?” he asked incredulously.

“Not all of them, just the racing bike. I haven’t used it all summer, and I’m sure I won’t have time for it this year. Seems
a shame for it to be sitting around collecting dust, though. Maybe I’ll try to sell it to someone who can use it.”

“No!” Doug cried. Red looked at him with surprise. “I mean, not unless you really want to do that. You don’t, do you?”

Red shook his head.

“Would you consider lending it to someone to try out? Because I know a guy who would give his right arm for a chance to try
your bike.”

Red looked puzzled for a moment. Then his face cleared and he started to grin. “I thought I’d read you wrong for a minute.
But you’re not talking about yourself, are you?”

Doug shook his head.

“Didn’t think so. I had you pegged for a distance rider right from the start.” He polished off the rest of his sandwich, then
wiped his fingers on his napkin. “You tell Billy to stop by tomorrow. If the bike fits him, we’ll see if we can’t work something
out.”

Doug was about to cheer out loud when a tap on the arm stopped him.

“You’re looking awfully happy. Want to dance?” Kate stood before him, looking like a princess but grinning wickedly.

Doug was taken by surprise. “I… I’m not sure I remember how,” he answered lamely.

Kate laughed, caught his hand, and dragged him to the dance floor.

“Come on,” she said. “It’s just like riding a bicycle—it’ll come right back to you!”

The grin on Red’s face told Doug that he was making a fool of himself. But he didn’t care. A tuxedo wasn’t the most comfortable
thing in the world to wear, but today he felt like a movie star in it.

Before Red left for medical school, he decided to let Billy work out with his racing bike. Jack Millman of the Lakeridge Cycling
Club had taken an interest and agreed to oversee Billy’s indoor training. Billy was on top of the world.

Doug was feeling the same way. Red, Kate, and Terry had all left for school the day before and he missed them all. But he
found that the past summer had given him a confidence in himself he hadn’t had the year before. He walked into this first
day of classes with new energy.

Once his classmates got used to the “new” Doug Cannon, several of them seemed genuinely inter ested in biking. More than one
expressed their disap pointment that the Rails to Trails project had been abandoned.

Hearing them talk about it gave him an idea. He mentioned it to Billy during one of their daily rides.

“Hey, Billy, did you know that the old railbed passes behind both our schools?”

Billy shrugged. “So?”

“So what would you think about asking our schools to sponsor a joint road race to raise money for the Rails to Trails project?
I bet parents would like to know their kids can bike to school without being on the roads.”

Billy agreed that it sounded like a good plan. The first person they talked to about it thought so, too.

“We’ve been pretty disappointed that the project wasn’t completed this summer,” Jack Millman said. The boys had stopped by
the clubhouse after their ride. “But we just couldn’t think of a way to get people outside the club interested in it. Your
idea could be the ticket!”

Jack said he would talk to Jimmy Bannister, the head of the project. If Jimmy was keen, then they would be in business. He
promised to call them once he knew.