Ollie Bearman

Preparations for the Grand Prix are in full swing – as much as that’s possible when Ollie Bearman is the main attraction.
First on the schedule was a physical training session. Keyword: was. Ollie showed up in the gym with the face of someone who’d been woken up three hours before their alarm, put on his gear, and did just enough sets to get the coach off his back. Cardio? Nope, never heard of it. Resistance bands, cable pulls, and “five more minutes on abs” – Ollie endures it all with a philosophical sigh. His attitude toward fitness is simple: “If I can finish a full race distance, then my body isn’t betraying me yet.”
After the torture comes the sacred part: a practice run in the cars. And that’s when Bearman transforms. His sluggish shoulders straighten, his gloomy gaze sharpens, and his fingers naturally reach for the wheel. He gets into the car not like an athlete after a grueling workout, but like a teenager finally allowed to tinker with simulator settings – except with a 300 km/h difference. He doesn’t radiate energy; he just does his job. Quietly, quickly, and with a strange kind of pleasure – because the car doesn’t ask him to squat with a barbell.