Nine months later Home Page
On the day of Wiggins' hour attempt, with an hour and half to go before the start on 7th June 2015,
we took our seats - very high up. Julie was in contact with Morten Okbo, a
Swedish writer doing a piece about the hour for Rouleur magazine. Morten came up and said hello and would we like
to come down with him to the track centre? Is the pope a Catholic? So down we went, but we were not allowed in with Morten. So he got me (poor old guy who can't stand for very long) a chair and Julie and me waited just outside. After
ten minutes we got the nod and there we were, unbelievably in the VIP area, with lots of free food and drink and famous cyclists.
After ten minutes we got the nod and there we were, unbelievably in the VIP area, with lots of free food and drink and famous cyclists.Thanks to an introduction by Morten, I found myself in conversation with David Millar - a very brief conversation finishing with a photo by Julie. Meanwhile she had worked out that the Spanish-looking gentleman posing for photos with various people must be Miguel Indurain. He was there by invitation of Wiggins himself - Indurain was his boyhood hero. Next thing I knew Julie was taking a photo of Mig and Sid, plus a selfie for good measure. By now the atmosphere was getting tense. Then, to a great 6,000-strong cheer, Wiggo appeared. He did a couple of laps on a road bike, twiddling quite a low gear while waving to the crowd. Then out came the super track bike and he was ready. He couldn't wait for the official 18:30 start time and suddenly he was off! He quickly settled down to 16.5 seconds per lap and 218 laps later the record was his at 54.526km. I don't know what Wiggo felt like during the ride, but for me it felt like it was the most exciting hour of my life. I was stunned by this experience as I hadn't really expected to be so emotionally affected. So when Morten suggested that we try to grab Bradley after the press conference, the whole thing began to seem like a dream. But that's exactly what happened! Morten introduced me to him, Julie gave him the book and then took a photo of Brad and Dad. Wiggo was wearing a top with 54.526 on it and if it had really been a dream I would have worn a top with 28.388 on it. (This dream came true a couple of months later when the editor of Rouleur, Ian Cleverly, interviewed me. Here's a put-together picture of us in our Rapha tops.) All my life I have been of a sceptical nature, honing my crap-detecting skills and resolutely not having any heros. So you could say that this experience was life-changing as I now meekly join the throng of Wiggo-worshippers. He finished our brief meeting wondering if my bum had been as sore as his after the record attempt. I could have replied that it was only half as sore because I only went half the distance. That might have happened in the dream but in real life I remained speechless. I still am.