El relevo en la escapada

The group of cyclists had been away from the peloton for almost an hour. At first, everyone had taken turns at the front, but now Marcos was leading the group while the others stayed behind him, sheltered from the wind.

Whenever he eased off a little, one of his teammates shouted at him:

“Come on, Marcos! We have to keep the gap!”

Marcos gritted his teeth and kept pedaling. His legs felt heavy, and his back was soaked with sweat. Glancing sideways, he saw that the others were not even trying to move to the front. One was drinking water calmly, and another seemed to be saving his strength for the finish.

On the next climb, Marcos stopped pedaling so hard. The group slowed down, and the peloton began to close in.

“What are you doing?” one of them complained. “They’re going to catch us!”

Marcos took a deep breath and moved a few inches away from the wheel of the cyclist in front of him. For the first time in a long while, the others were exposed to the wind.

“If you want to stay in the breakaway,” he said, “it’s your turn to work now.”

Then one of the cyclists sped up and came alongside him, while Marcos decided whether to move back to the front.

The cyclist who had come alongside him kept up the pace for a few seconds, but soon began to breathe heavily.

“All right, I’ll do my part,” he said, “but I can’t lead for very long.”

Marcos moved in behind him and immediately noticed the difference. The wind no longer hit him in the face, and his legs regained some strength. However, the other two stayed right on their wheels, as if nothing had changed.

After barely a minute, the cyclist at the front raised his hand.

“Your turn now.”

Marcos looked at him in surprise.

“And the others?”

No one answered. One lowered his head and pretended to concentrate on the road; the other looked back. The peloton was getting closer, although they still could not make out the riders’ faces.

Marcos knew they could stay in the breakaway if everyone worked together, but he also understood that he could not do all the work again. So he suggested something simple:

“We really take turns, or we let them catch us. Which do you prefer?”

For a few seconds, the only sound was the rattling of the chains. At last, the cyclist who had spoken first nodded.

“All right. Twenty seconds each. No excuses.”

They quickly agreed and began taking turns. Marcos moved to the front again, but this time he kept up the pace for only twenty seconds. Then he raised his elbow and moved aside.

The next cyclist took his place without complaining, and after that it was the turn of one of those who had not helped until then.

The changeover was not perfect. One rider’s turn was too short, and another lost a few meters on a bend, but everyone understood that they could no longer hide behind the others. Little by little, they found a steady pace again.

The peloton stopped closing in, and the gap began to grow again. With two kilometers to go, Marcos realized he still had strength left.

He did not know who would win, but he no longer minded carrying the breakaway alone. All four crossed the finish line ahead of the peloton. Marcos smiled: together, they had kept the breakaway going.