Adam Cotterell

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When people look on from the outside, they envisage this life style of gettting up when you like, going training when you want, and generally being as free as a bird. And while they're not entirely wrong, from the inside, its just not that simple! The fact is that being a full time athlete in any sport is possibly the hardest thing you can ever do, especially as an amateur. The fact is, we don't get paid, we're doing this because we love it, and want to convince someone to pay us to do it. But in that horrible intervening period you have to make ends meet yourself some how.

While its often a very laid back and relaxed lifestyle, a typical race day is far from it. Most races start at 2 or 3pm in Belgium, which means up at 9 or 10 to get a light breakfast down you. Sometimes you may go for an hours spin in the morning, just for a couple of extra kms, but mainly to loosen up the legs. Three hours before the race start is the when the real work starts, an uncomfortable amount of bread or pasta must be consumed to fuel the afternoons pursuits. Normally there is time to fulfil this role before having to travel to the race, but sometimes, the two coincide, then its really an unpleasant experience.

Once at the race, its simple, you sign on. Not always simple with Belgian race officials, especially those of a Walloon background, but I won't go there! So you have your rugnummer, pin it on, get into your kit. You roll around posing a little, seeing who's about. Then as if by magic, 150 riders seem to have converged on the start line. Here we go.

It's frantic, from the word go. You attack just to stay in the race sometimes. Belgians, unlike Englishmen, have no sense of honour when it comes to easing into a race. You're ready, or you're not. If you make it through the first hour, thats when your race really begins. Thats your time to attack yourself. Sometimes it works, mostly it doesn't. By the closing laps you're either competing for the win, for prize money, or just rolling in to go home and shower. Unless its the latter, you'd better hold on tight. The last few laps are similar to the first few, flat out, and often frought with crashes. C'est la vie.

You get back to the van, you're either happy or not, theres not normally middle ground. You raced well, or you didn't, simple. Wash yourself down, change, then head to the smoky den where you have to return your number. If you're lucky, in addition to the 5 euro number deposit, you'll be handed an envelope with yet further euros in it. Good times, bon temps.

Same again tomorrow then?