The peloton was riding through the quaint landscape of Burgundy from Troyes to Nuits-Saint-Georges today. Vineyards lined the way and whenever the cyclists crossed a picturesque village, the inhabitants waved their flags and cheered them on.

Not only adults were among them, but also many children. Farmers had piled up elaborate figures out of hay bales. Brass bands were playing. Some people even dressed up as nuns or wore flashing rabbit ears in neon colours.

But Olav had no eyes for all this. He was busy keeping his road racer on track. At the beginning of the stage everything went smoothly, but the closer they got to Nuits-Saints-Georges, the stronger the crosswind became. 

Team Viking Spades had formed a tight cluster and often had to switch out the leader of their pack, because riding at the front in such wind conditions was a real feat.

Olav's fingers started to itch. He wanted to break out so badly, because the Bismarck Bells and the Startory Jokers got stuck in the peloton and made only slow progress too. He had to be patient. He knew that he would not have enough strength for the final sprint if he fought against the wind alone or together with just Matti and Haakon.

He could sense that he was not the only one who felt this way. To their right the blue dressed Diamond Dragons struggled as well. The Chinese and Koreans who made up the team made all grim faces. 

Olav had to smile. Their stressed expressions made them look like they had swallowed a lemon slice. Only Li, who, as the leader and ace sprinter, rode in the wind-protected middle, seemed strangely relaxed.

For now.

The images from yesterday came back to Olav's memory. Whenever Li was dashing off for the final sprint, he transformed into a different person. In such moments, the empty shell was filled with life. The stoic character opened up and a broad grin adorned Li's face.

So maybe they weren't so different after all? Maybe they could both show their sincere feelings on the streets only?

Li must have noticed that Olav was staring at him. When he reached for his water bottle and started drinking, he paused for a moment and looked back.

"I'm going to win today." That's what he said this morning. 

Embarrassed, Olav turned his gaze away and concentrated on the formation of Team Viking Spades instead. He could already see the first houses of the city on the horizon. The long loop was nearing its end.

Not for long, and...

A sudden gust of wind blew the bottle from Li's hand. Brakes squeaked. The Viking Spades were pushed to the right. Olav could feel his handlebars shaking and his bike began to swerve.

His pulse was racing. He shifted his weight slightly forward. Sweat ran from his forehead, his eyes widened in terror. He tried to take a deep breath.

Don't panic! It's all right. It's, uh...

"Look out!" The next gust of wind caught the train of the Scandinavians. Olav tried to slow down, but the crosswind had Matti's bike completely under control. The young sprinter started to lurch. He shouted something in Finnish, then he crashed into Olav's rear wheel.

Olav could feel everything slipping away from him. The wind drove him further to the right. He saw the ground approaching and knew that almost the same thing had happened to him a year ago. His elbow began to hurt all by itself.

No, no, no. Not again, not...

"Don't die before the finish line!" Li's strong hand grabbed his waist and stabilized him. Olav's sweaty hands trembled so much that he could neither shift gears nor apply the brakes. In the short moment of shock he had become so sick that he wanted to throw up.

He shivered. Luckily his legs moved automatically. While more cheering crowds appeared as they entered the town, he could feel Li's warmth. And when he looked at him, the stoic expression on his face was for a tiny little moment filled with concern.

Li really had moles. Two moles under his right eye. One large and one small. For the first time Olav noticed that Li had a very unusual eye-colour. The colour of peonies. Suddenly he felt that Li's eyes weren't that frightening anymore.

Li gave him a little push, then pulled away. He raised two fingers to his forehead to greet him. "See you at the finish line!" Then he shifted up a gear, got out of the saddle and sprinted away together with his elegant assistant, which Olav had already met in the sauna.

Matti handed him an energy bar. "Sorry again!"

Olav tore open the packaging with his teeth and bit into the bar. "It's okay." He pulled a wry face. 

Ugh, strawberry flavour!

Matti must have noticed his disgust, because he smiled once more to appease him. The gap in his teeth began to sparkle. "Sorry!"

Olav scrunched up the paper and put it in his back pocket. "Save your apologies for later an let's go after them. I have a feeling that hell is about to break loose."

"ZOOM-ZOOM!"

Yoshiki and Nobuhiko rushed past them at breakneck speed.

Olav shook his head. "Maybe I need a catchphrase too!"

"No one underestimates MAX SPEED!"

Olav furrowed his brow. The Bismarck Bells surrounding Max Mustermann's yellow jersey also started to dash away.

"What do you think, Matti? Let's stop talking and get down to business."

The young sprinter giggled quietly and peeled off. 

Olav attached himself close to his rear wheel and started to pedal hard. "The Viking fleet sets sail!"

Matti whooped and dashed forward. 

Morten rolled his eyes and scratched his chin. "Why is every sprinter such a weirdo?"

***

Olav could hear them. The euphoria of the audience. The voice of the presenter who shouted into the microphone in French and predicted the arrival of the sprinters. The timpani and drums of the fans dressed as Vikings.

His heart was beating wildly, pumping the adrenaline into every cell of his body. He could see nothing but flashes of colour. National flags, team banners. People raising their arms to the sky, cheering. The asphalt underneath him. He was driving so fast that even the lane markings melted into one long white stripe.

He didn't have to look closer to know what was happening around him. He could feel them. Nobuhiko, Li, Max. Even Punyaa had fought his way to the front, ready to squeeze the last bit of substance out of his small body and secure another stage win for Team ShamroClovers today.

Olav gasped and panted. His body hurt, but he knew he had still some reserves in store. He changed gears and felt the resistance in the pedals getting stronger. But at the same time his speed increased.

Further, further. More, more, more!

Nobuhiko and Max roared their souls out of their bodies, but Olav was stronger.

Finally, finally! He could already see the goal! Only 50 more meters! Not even Li was a match for him today!

He was so wide awake that he could feel every inch of his body. He felt the wind in his face just as intensely as the gear shift under his fingertips. He felt the burning and pulling in his thigh and the scratching in his lungs, which were constantly pumping with air up to the stop.

"OLAV! OLAV! OLAV!"

"MAX SPEED! MAX SPEED!"

"NIPPON BANZAI!"

"PUNYAA!"

"PENG LI! PENG LI!"

The presenter's voice was overturning. The speakers could hardly drown out the cheers of the audience. The cacophony made the street shake.

25 meters.

Li screamed and laughed at the same time. Olav gritted his teeth and tortured himself further.

It would be over in a moment, in a glimpse of time he would have won his first stage.

Just a moment...

His heart stopped for an instant. He could hear it beating in his ears almost in slow motion. A threatening throb was behind his temple.

He could hear himself screaming.

Only 15 meters.

Something was wrong...

Something wasn't the way it should be...

Something was ... missing...

Ten meters.

His finger twitched for a millisecond.

No... Why...

He braked. Just for a moment.

Five meters.

Li's back, right in front of him. The Chinese raised his arms and cheered.

Was it over?

Olav's memory was blanking out. He had given everything he had. The vision before his eyes began to flicker. He felt someone helping him off his bike and holding a sports bottle to his lips. A towel was put on his head and he felt a satisfied pat on his shoulder. 

TV cameras, smartphones, microphones everywhere.

His legs trembled and he had to sit down. He stared at his right hand, which was also shaking.

He had braked... Why?

What was it that he remembered in that brief moment?

His head was in excruciating pain. He greedily drank the bottle and waited a little longer until his breath had calmed down. When a microphone was held in front of him, he waved it away. 

Finally, he got up and searched for the toilets. His bladder took its toll.