Lining up at the Tour de France

Or so it seemed today...

I've done a number of races since arriving over here in Belgium, all of them different in unique and distinct ways. Today was no different.

I raced two crits earlier this week after the "hometown" kermesse in Ottignies last Sunday. You remember that one? Pouring rain, drama, broken spoke, sitcom etc...  Well, on Monday, the Weather Gods opted for dry roads and clear skies, lots of people, beer, and a crowded festival. I'm starting to like the celebration vibe over here. Every weekend, it seems like a party is going on in a different village. I have no idea why, but it's a great excuse for frites and beer consumption, and to watch a bike race.

The first crit was the center of attention on Monday night. Not a lot of riders, but a lot of people watching. I'm starting to realize that it's "easier" to win money in a crit than a kermesse simply because not as many riders show up. But, it can also be more difficult with the small field, endless attacks, no cooperation, and a prime almost every lap. This course had a hill, which I liked and tried to use to my advantage. It seemed like I was constantly at the front of the race for the first half, off the front, attacks, following. Still though, even with my own perceived presence at the front, I somehow missed the winning move. It is so #@*#$)@# hard making the break over here. You need the correct riders, ones who cooperate, ones who are strong, and a briefly apathetic pelaton.

It was still a fun race and I finished in the money. WOOO!


The second race was two days later in Lichtervelde in Flanders. All flat. C'est Bon.
What made this race cool though was that the Omloop van het Houtland was starting at the same time and finished on the same circuits a couple hours after we finished. Which meant a lot of people.
Again, the field was small and the break went. BUT, I finished in the money! Some Quickstep guy won and only 5 riders(the break) were still on the course to do the final lap.

The finish on Wednesday to Omloop. I wonder how much money people made off  the race.

The highlight of the day for me was seeing Patrick and his family again. Patrick is a cycling journalist in Belgium and a friend of Freddy's. Not only are they an awesome family, but they speak perfect English,
which was a nice respite. What was really cool though, was walking around Lichtervelde while waiting for the race to come in. Man, so many people on a Wednesday afternoon. It's like no one works when a bike race is going on. And the betting boards! Something I will probably never see in the U.S; at my first kermesse in Flanders I was introduced to the cycling casino, but here, white board after white board was lining the street. The bookies even had radios connected to the race official's car as well as to other people stationed along the course and would constantly update the betting odds based on the information they were receiving. There was a break of around 10 riders and the odds changed every time a new time gap was relayed. So cool.

And today...the title says it all.

Perfect weather. 148 km. 184 riders. My first "pro" kermesse.

I didn't really have any idea going into the race what the big deal was. Luc said it was an easy course. Freddy told me it was going to be a very hard race. The first thing I learned here is that no race is easy. So I went into it with the approach of soaking up the experience and seeing what happens.

One of the funny aspects here,(funny to me only because I've never seen it before in the U.S., normal to everyone else here), is that cycling and bike races are a very family oriented occasion. Not that it isn't in California, but it's just a different atmosphere here.  The whole crew comes out for the weekend brawl on two wheels. I've made several observations over the past couple of weekend races and here is what  stands out in particular:



1) After the entourage arrives, The racer, immediately sits down in a folding chair and cooly sips from his water bottle.
2) The father usually assumes the role of the mechanic. Setting up the bike on the stand, going through the gears, making the machine spot clean.
2) The mother is the soigneur, and has the duty of massaging some white cream or paste into the rider's legs as he looks on in content.
3) The girlfriend, either stands there watching the whole ritual unfold, or is sitting next to the rider in a different chair, holding or stroking his arm.
4) The grandparents are just returning from the bar with their buddies, clutching a nice cold beer and the start list of the race.
5) The sibling(s), are playing in the nearby field with a soccer ball or Frisbee.

After everyone completes their respective job, the racer leaves the comfort of his chair and girlfriend, jumps on his bike, and rides to the start.


Back to the race today.
A lot of riders, a lot of teams. It was almost like a stage race or an interclub. Teams had their trailers, trucks, R.V.'s etc. We rolled up in our Honda mini-van.

I got a pretty good starting position but more importantly, got my picture taken at the front. Which sometimes, is just as good as getting a result. Even with 1 minute to go, I was still kind of celebrity watching. Well not really, but sort of. To my left,  was a rider from Cofidis. To my right, a rider from FDJ. In front of me, a rider from Omega Lotto. Behind me, a rider from Garmin. Plus, a hand full of continental pro teams from Europe. A lot different than some Velo Promo race, eh?

This was an "open" race, which meant that anyone that is in the "Elite " category-masters, juniors, espoirs, pros etc, can race, regardless of age.

The race was fast but it was surprisingly easy sitting in the pelaton. The relatively flat course(although there were some small risers) and zero wind made a pretty comfortable draft. Going off the front is a different story. Godverdomme! I'm not sure how fast we were actually going, but my moment of glory for the day was short lived, as were probably 100 other riders who attempted to break away. I followed one move off the front, but we were going so fast, and the pelaton wasn't slowing up, that is was extremely difficult to even pull through. After I did, some other riders came by, but the large mass of 170+ riders shortly after swallowed us up. At least I saw the front.

What was cool to see though, was how masters in the race would casually chat it up with a Pro Tour rider during the race. And these guys were old, like 45+, or they looked old. It's like if some rider on Danville Blvd(you know the one's I'm talking about) suddenly started a conversation with Tom Boonen in the middle of some race like Merco. Well, not Merco, but you get the idea. Very cool to witness.

Somehow,  a group of riders got away. With such a large field and highs speeds, it was very hard to move around. I managed to finish somewhere near the front of the pelaton but have no idea what my actual place was. All I know is I beat some Cofidis guy. :)

All in all though, it was a pretty cool day. Great weather, great course, world class riders. Just another Saturday in Belgium.

And the hits just keep on coming!

So much to tell. So much inappropriate content.

Two sentences pretty much suffice.

Well, I am exaggerating, but right now, and in the moment, it seems like unprecedented overload.

For anyone who reads this blog and has any desire for the unknown, uncharted territory, or any whiff of enthusiasm to discover new experiences, boundaries(or the pure destruction of boundaries), pushing the envelope, physically and mentally, a trip to Belgium might fit the bill.


 Anyways, sticking to the Internet version of this recollection, here it goes:

Today, I had the hometown Kermesse in Ottignies- the village I am living in. I had a little bit extra motivation for this race as it is basically " a hometown race". I ride on the same roads almost every day when I come back from a ride. Moreover, it wasn't pancake flat like the past couple of races; it actually had a few hills and some pretty strong kickers. Good vibes.

I felt good before the race and during the race- a good sign. Then, about 6 laps into the race- CLACK!
It definitely came from my bike; no mistaking that. But what was it? I checked my bike best I could, all while going 30mph downhill and through roundabouts. For the most part, it seemed okay. I continued on.  Then with about 2 laps to go, a rider came up to me and said that my wheel was going "like this- side to side". Shit. I looked down again and noticed my rear wheel hobbling all over the place. It doesn't necessarily help when you have rubbing breaks to worry about. In fact, it fucks up your entire conscious.

"No wonder why my legs hurt. "
"Ahh, this hill hurts pretty bad; other riders probably didn't have rubbing break pads for 90 km".
" Maybe it's not rubbing the breaks that bad"

And the list goes on and on.

I tried to push any notion of my wheel out of my mind as best I could but it was difficult to say the least.

Luckily, only 2 laps remained when I discovered this so I decided to ride it out.

Oh yeah, it was pissing rain and 10 degrees C, which I guess doesn't seem that cold back in California. But, if you add in the rain and wind, it was pretty terrible the last 3 laps.

After the race, the wheel wouldn't make 2 full rotations. And, adding insult to injury, I missed out on the money by two places.

As for the "other" aspects of the race. Let's just say, when we sit down for a beer in a month or two, I will be happy to divulge numerous volumes of anecdotes that continue to "push" the envelope. But hey, all the more rich the experience.

Past two weeks: 2 broken spokes; 1 cracked stem; 1 broken barring; 1 new chain.

However, in the past two weeks, I got to see one of the most interesting and moving places I've been to on this trip; it fits right up there with Normandy last year. I had the opportunity to visit Bastogne in the south of Belgium and it did not disappoint. I'm a huge fan of Band of Brothers and am interested in pretty much anything that involves World War II. For those of you who have seen BOB, recall the two episodes that take place in Bastonge and the perpetual bombardment in the Ardennes. Well, I went there and it was pretty surreal. To see the Bois Jacques up close and picturing the real thing taking place 70 years ago right where I was standing, and everything that was depicted in Band of Brothers and other WWII movies-all of it was very moving.

View from where Easy Company was positioned in the Bois Jacques right above the town of Foy

Pretty much says it all.

Fitting that I saw all of that before the past two weeks of my own "war".  However, just like Easy Company, I feel like things will start to come around, the sky will clear up, and better days are ahead. But like I've said before, the good, as well as the bad days, are what make this journey so thrilling. And it takes a lot more than two sentences and volumes to even attempt to capture the ride.

l'avant l'avant L'AVANT!

Every time I lament about how the course wasn't selective enough, did not have enough hills, enough wind, enough turns, enough attacks, it always comes back to bite me in the ass. I've only done that twice and it's probably the last time I will offer suggestions, no matter how personal they are, on how to "make the race more selective".

Last week, I was a bit exasperated because the races were all flat and the winner was, for the most part, determined by tactics and luck.

Today, the only "tactic" or goal one needed was to be at the front.

l"avant. "Stay at the front", my team director told me.
"The first 30 kilometers will be very fast and hard and if you are not in the first 50, it will be very difficult".

I heeded his words but still found out what the last 150 places feels like.

Today was my second Interclub; a race for only teams. These are a bit different than kermesses in that all of the riders belong to a team. Each team brings 6 six riders and the races are around 160KM. Today, there were 35 teams.

Basically, this was one of the hardest and fastest races I have ever done. Quickstep decided to bring their development squad and the German National team made the trek across the border. It was going to be fast!

The day started out ominously. As I waited for the gun to go off, I took a quick look at my stem and noticed a fine crack right down the middle-almost 1/2 inch long. Great. Of course, a crack or break or some other problem has to occur right before the race.  The last thing I needed to think about was my carbon stem breaking into two going 35 miles an hour. I pushed the notion as far back into my mind as possible; it was nothing I could do at the moment so really, no point of worrying about it. Any thought or regard to a rupture quickly exited my train of thought about 20 seconds after the gun went off.

Luc, our team manager, told us it was very important to be at the front in the race and line up at the front before the start. We made a point to be at the front when we rolled to the start. By the time the gun actually went off, we were about 35 riders back.

The gun went off and it was balls to the wall. The speed was fast, but the accelerations out of turns and corners were brutal. Imagine 200+ riders burrowing down a two lane road at 50km/hr, slowing to a crawl in a turn, and then violently stomping on the pedals and attacking out of each turn. Add in crosswind, road obstacles, gutters and crashes and some Tom Boonen and Stijn Devolder protégé and you have yourself an Interclub!

Throughout the race all I was thinking about was "get to the front".

I wasn't even in the same time zone as the front.

Ironically, I saw about 4 out of the 5 other riders from my team all around the same part of the pelaton as me. We would try and pull each other up, jump on trains of other riders moving up, but somehow we all ended up around the same spot, in the back.

Which is never good. Especially when that two land road shrinks to the size of a canal trail. That's what happened each lap and with about 6 to go, a major crash occurred in that exact spot. I got caught behind it and was brought to a stop. A stop long enough that I was able to see all the riders on the ground; one guy was face down on the pavement, knocked out cold.

After navigating my way through the carnage, it was balls to the wall again. But it was too late. After trying to make our way back through the cars for ten minutes, and 100 km,  the race was over.

We started the race with 6 riders. None of us made it to the end.

I think this was actually a bit harder than Namur. It was flat, full out from the beginning, and never let up. I think only around 30 riders actually finished the race.

The main factor I need to concentrate on and improve is getting comfortable riding with such large fields and such small roads. The speed is high and the room is little. When something happens, you have only a split second to react, be it a crash, turn,  or obstacle in the road. Today for example, we were hauling ass down a nice smooth road when suddenly everyone slammed on their breaks. The problem? A 1 inch crack running down the middle of the road. Hit that and it's game over.

Sometimes I wondered, "How the F#&#& are riders off the front right now?".

In other times, the pelaton would balloon up, as if slowing down. Yet, in our single file line, less than 50 meters behind the "ballooned" pelaton, it was flat out-on the rivet-agony. It seemed so close; the riders that were spread out across the road looked like they were soft pedaling. But, here we were, going full gas and still not getting closer to that balloon.

Eventually, we would make it back up to the group, only more tired than before.

I think I still need to get more experience riding in such large groups, at such high speeds, on such small and compact roads. It's a bit of a shell shock coming from the States with nice smooth and wide boulevards to riding down a piece of "road" no wider than your Honda Civic. Add in speed, crosswinds and "road furniture" and you have yourself the violent nature of bike racing in Belgium. I've been here for almost 2 months and every day I am still learning about the chaotic and beastly character of the pelaton.  However, race by race, ride by ride, pedal by pedal, I will become more comfortable with the positioning and rhythm of the race and will soon find myself riding in L'avant.

Monkey Wrench

Man, what a whirlwind of a week! It's been a crazy past seven days, which at first which appeared to be set up for a relaxing week, but it has been anything but that.

The week, or weekend, started with a 2 day trip to Paris to see the Foo Fighters at the music festival, Rock En Seine. Nice.

First to arrive on the scene for the FF. Not. 

What a great city. This was my second time visiting the City of Lights and it didn't disappoint. I felt much more comfortable walking around, using the metro, and speaking to people. Perhaps this was the case since I have been immersed in a French speaking culture and environment for the past two months, or because it was my second time strolling amongst Parisians, I felt really comfortable exploring and discovering the perpetually growing list of gems to see. Of course my french still needs some improvement. I thought I would try and throw a little of this and that toward somebody to gauge my level on the totem pole of francais . As I entered the hostel room, I said a few words in French to the girl who worked there. She responded. YES! I then said in French, "It's hot in here, eh?".

"I'm sorry", she replied, " I don't speak English".

I think I have a little work to do on my enunciation.

I stayed at the same hostel as Tyler and I stayed at last fall and what a difference. Not only was this one of the quietest and subdued hostel rooms I have every stayed in, but it didn't have any Australians! Don't get me wrong, Australians are great but after traveling for 2 months across Europe last year, it seemed like they were taking over the continent. Plus, I didn't have the unique exposure to another Ausi "plowin' the forest" at 5AM.

After one train ride, a 4 hour bus ride, and 2 metro rides, I finally made it to Rock En Seine. It was INSANE. I don't think I've ever stood in a beer line for an entire set; conveniently, Funeral Party was playing right across the field so I was able to enjoy some punk alternative ambiance. And they appeared to be pretty popular with the French.

I made my way over to the Foo Fighters after watching a bit of Kid Cudi. I asked one girl if anyone understood what Mr. Rager was saying.

" A little bit, but I can't understand him right now"

The Foo Fighters were amazing. It was actually hard to enjoy the first 4-5 songs because it was so rough and...intimate. Europeans know how to have a good time. I don't think I've been in such an enthusiastic and animated crowd. My first Green Day concert at the Warfield might come close, but this was a non stop dancing, moshing, singing and screaming party. In other words- the Europeans make the American crowds look like amateurs. At one point, I found myself 3 rows back from the fence. And then I found myself in the mud with people tumbling and falling over me. Luckily, some friendly French person helped bring me to my feet before the mob had a chance to collapse on top.

I got a little closer. And closer. And closer. 

And, it didn't rain. Not until the very end, at least. My shoes were so dirty, however, that two Parisian guys on the metro afterwards asked if I had just gone to Woodstock. Almost.


The next day, I checked out Versailles. Pretty impressive, to say the least. It was funny seeing all the tourist and tour buses, and vendors selling miniature Eiffel Towers out in front. Brought me right back to the days of our backpacking entourage seeking out the shortest line into the Louvre or the quickest lift up the Eiffel  Tower.

One of about 50 self portraits I took that day. 

On my 4 hour bus ride back to Brussels, I met a lovely Dutch women who informed me she spoke 5 languages. Again, as it happens too often, I was left speechless, which leaves my chatting partner speechless as well. And then, they usually utter something in Dutch, French, German or Turkish that I don't understand. Luckily, she kept the conversation to English and we had a great time exchanging our tales of foreign travel.


AND THE RACES...


It's probably a good thing I didn't endeavor to recap any of the races yesterday as I began to write this blog; I think my initial perception and description of the past week while still high on copious amounts of caffeine and endorphins from earlier that day would be too raw for public consumption.

I think the best way to describe what I am beginning to analyze, observe and conclude in these Kermesses is best analogized with a set of matches. At the start, I have a full box of matches. I can decide when to burn them, how many to burn, how quickly, how big of a fire or explosive effort I want to make, and gauge how many I will need to keep the fire burning until the end.

I have only been here for two months but have deduced two general types of kermesse races: 1-A race of attrition. 2-A race of tactics. A race of attrition occurs when the course is not flat, crosswinds are present, and the field size, while it can be large, generally makes the race more difficult when small. A race of tactics more often than not takes place when the course is pancake flat, no wind, and the field is usually big.

This last week it's been a lot of tactics, very few attrition. And when it comes to tactics in a kermesse, it seems 75% of the time it's about luck. Luck getting into the right breakaway. Luck that the pelaton doesn't chase you down. Luck that you have strong riding partners. This all may sound all too familiar in the world of bike racing but I have never seen it more amplified in a Kermesse. The lack of hills, or other factors to split up the field, inevitably creates a final selection process that almost resembles a crap shoot. Yes, the riders in the front are strong. But so are the 85 riders in the back.

The last two races resembled a similar decomposition to that of above. But, forget about that. I'll talk about the race of attrition- the first race of the week, instead.

Basically, that one word succinctly captures it.  It was fast and pancake flat in Flanders, as usual. Remember the matches analogy? Well, I burned 2/3 of my matches early, going with all the attacks. You see, one has a choice during these kermesses. When one attacks, if the attack manages to draw out a string of riders, one usually has some sort of cooperation, initially. Then, two scenarios can occur. The group of riders one is in can be brought back and absorbed by the pelaton, OR, the group will stay away. When the group is absorbed, one has to make a decision: Do I sit in for a few minutes and recover, or do I go with another attack, possibly this is the winning move because I recognized another stronger rider who is going on the front.

This process and evaluation is repeated 20-30 times throughout the race, at a split second rate.

Well, I chose to go with the attacks early.

The race was attack after attack after attack. I remember one moment when a group was off the front and we were chasing flat out-single file for 10KM. I recall looking up, while on the rivet, wondering how those 5 riders were still away. And they stayed away.

In the end, the pelaton splintered. Yes, this course was flat, but with the small field, wind and selection process determined by the ubiquitous aggressive nature that these races are known for, it was a race of attrition. After all that work and riding for what seemed like 3 hours of suffering, I got into the money. Thank god.

After the race, Freddy and I stopped by to see his friend, who is a reporter for a Belgium cycling magazine, and his three daughters, one who studies at Ghent. They offered me a beer and I couldn't resist indulging myself. Beer after a bike race. Good times. That was probably the highlight of the day!

The last two races I've done I've felt very good. Unfortunately, the courses themselves were not that selective. I managed to make 15-20 rider splits off the front which appeared to be the right move, only to be brought back a couple of laps later. And then, the real break of 5 guys gets off. What I'm starting to realize, after all of this, and I hope you are too, is that in order to place in the top 10-15, one needs to kill oneself in the race. Which basically means, you are dead at the end. Go hard or go home!


But hey, that's bike racing.

I often ask myself sometimes amongst the times of misery in the pouring rain, the mud, hail, gutters, and long hours of solitude why I pursue such a difficult endeavor and sport. Most of the time it's a hard notion, conclusion or concept to wrap your head around, or try to rationalize in any way that is comprehensible to the rest of the world. I sometimes don't understand it. But, maybe that's what makes it so special. It's a constantly evolving and malleable piece of art.

As my friend Michael J once told me, "Cycling is a drug". It's more than just a drug, it encapsulates a certain way of life, almost metaphorically. To me, cycling, like life, is all about the journey. Whether if it's the smokey cafes, the two-faced Belgium hecklers from the bar,  the brutal pavé, my drivers and friends, or riding through the Ardennes and Belgium country side, the results almost become an after thought.

What I do know is that if I enjoy the ride, fully embrace the culture and lifestyle of cycling and Europe, the results, types of races, flats or hills, attacks and tactics-  will take care of itself. And as Dave Grohl put it, "It's times like these you learn to live again".  Allez!