It was a hectic day, one that included a four hour airport delay and the incredible hassle of lugging a bike box around (hint: stairs are nigh on impossible, and it brings to my attention that London stations are not terribly disabled friendly). Boris, get it together, man.
Once landed and settled, London seemed more welcoming. And then some. At Gibson Hall for the Team BBQ (for those late-comers sneaking in after lounging at various airports and train stations surrounded by piles of gear all day) the opulent room was a refreshing and tantalising sea of green and gold, the waters rippled here and there by the familiar blue of Aussie flags and the white of the team polos. Smiling faces all round. Well, don’t we just look marvy and smashing, while outside the Londoners in grey suits and black pantsuits are walking head-down into the mineral rain.
Now, I’m feeling patriotic. I’m feeling Olympic. This thing is on. What has required so much planning and waiting is upon us. Oh yes, Aussie, Aussie, Aussie. All these fit and dedicated people; these committed individuals who have trained so hard and travelled so far. And those who have given their time to make this possible, the organisers and team managers. It’s Team Australia. Look at them. Look at us.
This is something we can all be really proud to be part of, regardless of results or tenths-of-seconds or flat tires or goggles filling with water or grey clouds dribbling rain. This is a fantastic experience.
The weather is not clouding (groan) our spirit. We’re all smiles at the opening ceremony at Trafalgar Square, and our gear really makes us stand out. Get into it Team Oz. Do us all proud.
Thursday plan: put bike together, check-in at athlete hotel, get starter kits, team briefing, bike check-in for sprint, sleep the sleep of champions.
Good luck to everyone competing today and tomorrow. Race with a big cheesy grin on your face. I know I will.