THE SECRET TRACK CYCLIST - THE EUROS BUFFET INCIDENT

Communal hotel meals during track events are presented as a chance to recover together.

This is optimistic.

In reality, they are a live demonstration of geopolitics, logistics, and moral flexibility, played out over scrambled eggs.

Everyone arrives at roughly the same time. This is not coincidence. It is strategy. You learn quickly that arriving five minutes late means eating whatever remains after the strongest personalities have finished negotiating with the buffet.

There is an unspoken code.

You take what you need. You take one portion. You come back if necessary. You acknowledge that this food is for everyone.

Then there is that nation.

You recognise them immediately because they move as a unit.

While everyone else queues politely, they fan out. One goes for the protein. One secures carbohydrates. Another handles fats. A fourth appears with plates stacked like structural supports.

No words are exchanged. This has been practised.

Within seconds, entire serving dishes are lifted from the buffet and transported directly to their table. Not spooned. Not portioned. Removed.

A tray of chicken disappears.

A bowl of pasta follows.

Someone takes the whole basket of bread.

The buffet staff freeze. This is beyond their training.

Around the room, riders pause mid-motion, holding plates that now contain only steamed vegetables and a single boiled egg.

You make eye contact with another rider. There is nothing to say.

At the table in question, the mood is relaxed. Laughing. Phones out. Recovery drinks already mixed. The food is arranged neatly, like a tactical display.

They eat calmly, generously, confidently, as if the buffet was delivered specifically for them.

Someone nearby mutters, "Bold."

This is not meant as a compliment.

Later, an announcement is made.

"Please remember the buffet is for all guests."

Nobody looks up.

The following morning, everyone arrives earlier.

This escalates things.

The same nation now arrives first. The operation is faster. More efficient. The trays do not even touch the buffet this time. They are intercepted en route from the kitchen.

Marginal gains.

By day three, adaptations are in place. Riders hide bread rolls in jacket pockets. Someone builds a recovery meal entirely from yoghurt and fruit. A mechanic is seen guarding a tray of rice like it contains classified material.

This is how systems evolve.

After the event, the hotel returns to normal. The buffet replenishes endlessly. Peace is restored.

But the memory remains.

Years later, you will still think about that tray of chicken. About how confidently it was lifted. About how nobody stopped it.

And you will understand something important about elite track cycling.

Preparation matters.

But sometimes, winning starts at the buffet.

Secret Track Cyclist is an anonymous diary inspired by real-life experiences in elite track cycling. Each entry is written from the perspective of a different figure within the sport. Names, identities, and events are intentionally obscured to protect this week's author.