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!

Dejá Vu

Well, sort of. I'm going to keep this kind of brief since I got home at 10PM from a race that started at 5. A lot of miscommunication occurred after the race. My drivers, Joseph and Robert, thought I had gotten a ride home after not seeing me. I searched for 20 minutes for their car after collecting my prize money. Some french and english profanity was probably exchanged. Luckily, I met someone who called Robert, who at that point, was already half way home, to say they forgot me. In the end, everyone made it home in one piece so it's all good.

I raced two races this week, one on Tuesday and one on Thursday. Little did I know that not only were these two races in an omnium format but they were run on the exact same course. Same direction, same number of laps, same time. I got a ride to the race with Robert and Joseph, the former team president. My initial reaction after meeting Joseph must have been somewhat similar to that of when a family member meets the Godfather. Only, in this instance, Joseph was the Belgium version. A very nice guy, we managed to exchange a few words in French.

Joseph and me after the race

Tuesday, the break got off in the first 2 laps and stayed away for the entire race. I got into a 6 man chase group with about 5 laps to go and we got within 20 seconds but couldn't close the gap. We got so close that they had the official follow vehicle and ambulance, who usually follow the pelaton, drive right behind us. At that point, I thought they had pulled the rest of the field and just left the 15 of us in the race. Unfortunately, it didn't really work out that way. With about 1.5 laps to go, somehow the pelaton caught our group. I tried my luck in a group sprint and actually fared alright. I finished in the money and was feeling good so I was pretty happy.

One funny moment of the race occurred during the first couple of laps through the start/finish area. Robert was there in the team jersey to give me water bottles every time I would ride by. Every lap, he would stand there with the bottles. And almost every lap in the first half of the race, I would shake my head and not grab a bottle, either because I didn't need one or we were going too fast. And then finally around the 5th lap, I desperately need water. Thank God Robert is there. We came around the turn and I veered off to the right to where I expected Robert to be standing there as he usually is.

Where is he? Bright yellow kit, red hat? No Robert, no Robert...Robert?!?!!!
After drifting back for almost 200 meters looking for Robert, I pass the start/finish line and catch a glimpse of Robert eating a hot dog. We have a moment of connection; I am waving my hand in the air, and he is sort of looking on in disbelief and a bit startled, all with a hot dog in one hand and a beer in the other. We see each other and stare into each other's eyes for 2 seconds, and then part ways. But we exchanged the message. Robert was there in the feed zone, with the bottles, attentive and ready for the rest of the race.


Tuesday, the break went in the first two laps. Today, the break didn't go until the last lap. I felt really good and went with every every every single move. Of course, it's the 1001st move that goes and eventually wins. At one point during the race, I made the selection of 20 riders off the front with 5 laps to go. It was hard but I honestly thought we had a good chance to make it to the finish. Then, people stopped cooperating. Riders wouldn't pull through, gaps would open and a lot of screaming and yelling in French, Flemish and a bit of my English ensued.

I wish I had a tape recorder. I can't recall the number of times I got yelled at or I yelled at someone in a foreign dialect. But, it was a lot; too much to count.

So, the winning moved formed with 2 laps to go. I wasn't in the right position but managed to get second in our field sprint after attacking with 3km to go. I figured I had a better chance doing that than trying my luck with the group. I'm not sure what place I got but I got 22nd overall after 2 days and 100+ riders. Today was frustrating to say the least but I felt good and know that I can make the moves off the front. I just need a bit of luck getting in the right one.

The team is going to Provence to do a 4 day stage race starting next Thursday. I'm pretty bummed I'm not going as I'm starting to feel really good; it features a lot of climbing as well. But, what can you do? All I can focus on is my riding and as long as that is where it should be and getting better. , the rest will take care of itself.

The good, bad, and absolutely dry weather?

First, a couple of pictures from the first race earlier this week.

Did I mention that out of all the races I put sunscreen on, which is all of them, 60% of the time it gets washed off in the first 20 minutes? I know I talked about the wide dichotomy of weather conditions before, and after about 1.5 months here, I now take a rain jacket out on every ride; but this was something else. 

Being over here in Europe, it's a bit difficult sometimes to keep up with the news happening in the States. Yes, we get BBC and the CCN World Edition, but other than that, with the new 20 article limit on the NYT website, my main source of news has been The Daily Show and my daily endeavors of comprehending a French Belgium newspaper. I just heard news of(and saw a video) of the Indiana State Fair disaster. Holy #$*U*#@O! 

A similar event happened over here in Belgium on Thursday. I was actually thinking about going to this music festival but the tickets were sold out. This video sufficed(notice a band was still playing, at least initially, while the stormed rolled through).  Instead, I had a bike race. 

Now, I don't have any photos but  you have to take my word that it was beyond surreal. I have never experienced a bike race, or any outside event for that matter, where the weather abruptly shifts from two extremes in a matter of minutes. Before the race, it was hot; I was sweating while putting on sunscreen. No undershirt, plenty of electrolytes, adequate bottles in the feed zone. 

Within 20 minutes, it went from sun, hot, clear skies---to hail, wind, and absolute darkness. It was dark as night! Seriously. The news report from the concert said that the concert grounds experienced winds up to 90km/hr. I couldn't tell; I was more focused on making sure my sunglasses were secure, behind my helmet. Oh yeah, given that the pouring rain was hammering everyone in the face, no one bothered to look up, understandably. For about 3-4 laps, all I could see(barely) was the wheel in front of me. And then, out of no where, the sun appeared.  This is summer in Belgium; I think I still have a lot to learn. 

Oh yeah, and the race- a break went in the first 5 minutes and that was it! But there was so much more to it than that!

And then today....

Nice weather, hot, and dry. Or at least it seemed dry. Maybe because after the race was done, everyone was not only tired, but was peeling off all the caked on cow shit that accumulated over the race. It was only for a couple of short downhill sections though and by the 5th lap, I didn't see it anymore. I wonder where it all went.

The course today had an uphill Pavé section, which was a bit interesting. It actually wasn't too bad. Unless you run into someone. 

I felt pretty good today and went with a few moves in the beginning and middle but after those were brought back, I was a bit tired and sat in the rest of the race. On the last lap up the hill, I had my head angled down at the road in front of me when suddenly out of nowhere, a wheel, then a seat post, and finally a complete bicycle frame appeared in my vision. I went right into a guy's wheel and rear derailer who was drifting backwards, killing all of my momentum. And, as I learned, it's very very difficult to get back up to speed on a hill with cobblestones. I lost major ground in the blink of an eye, but still finished, in the back, but finished. 

112 riders started the race and only 63 arrived at the end so I'm content. Luc told me that not many Belgiums would be in the race today because they are preparing for the championship tomorrow, which hopefully would make the race a little easier. But it's never easy here. There were around 70 riders from Belgium today. So much for a mellow day before the Nationals!

That's about it for now. If I can find pictures from the race in the cyclone, I will definitely post those. 

He who finishes, finishes with a good result...

..Is what someone once told me, and what I'm starting to learn as well.

I apologize in advance for the lack of updates this past week. I experienced my first shell shock of Belgium cycling last week. 

Stage 1

Tour de Namur, the last thing I wrote about, was rough. My legs, inexorably, felt like shit the second day after my twilight trauma and bonking episode I was fortunate enough to experience on the opening stage. I got dropped on the 3rd of 4 climbs and then to make matters worse, I ran into a police motor bike while in the grupetto. That hurt. After going down, I managed to finish the stage-50K to the end-but was outside the time limit. All in all, it was my initiation to a Belgium stage race. I was pretty bummed; I think one of the worst feelings in all of cycling is not being able to continue to race while your teammates do. Well some of them. The next day, it was raining and 2 more riders from the team abandoned during the 130km trek. The team finished with 3 riders out of six. 

Ingrid the medic coming to the rescue

Anyways, we stayed in the Ardennes, in the south of Belgium, at Luc and Ingrid's second house, which was probably one of the highlights of the weekend for me. The scenery was straight out of "Band of Brothers" from the Battle of The Buldge in Bastogne, although I was told Bastonge was about 60 kilometers south of the house. Still, I could imagine what the real thing was like-horrific.

I took two days off after that and was able to visit Brussels with Luc's sister and her family. It was pretty cool seeing the Grand Place, enjoying a Belgium Waffle, and having one of the best beers I have ever had. Surrounded by tourists, backpackers, and fellow Belgians, it brought me back to the days of backpacking last fall. It was a nice break from the usual routine of training every day. Oh yeah, the waffles and chocolate here are awesome!

One of the best Waffles. Ever. 

I tried to capture the sunset in Brussels but this is the best I got. Sun. Belgium. It's worth the picture. 

Please Just turn...

Today, I did a kermesse about 15km from our house, close enough for Matias and I to ride over. The day, however,  started with a little hiccup. After about 5-6 minutes of riding, I heard a big CLACK noise as I went over a speed bump. At first I thought I got a flat tire but after giving both tires a visual and "bunny hop" check, they were fine. Or so I thought. A little while after, I saw the back tire wobbling all over the place. It turns out I broke a spoke on my wheel and had to ride the last 10KM with rubbing brakes. No wonder my legs felt bad riding over there. 

Luckily, I was able to borrow a wheel from a teammate and the legs felt much better after that! Our team had a lot of riders in the field~14 I was told, although it I don't think we took up that much room. The race started fast but I was feeling good. In the first five laps,  two other teammates and I were either at the front or off the front in the breaks. It was hard but manageable. However, nothing would stick. After about 7 laps of doing this, I started to get tired and from this point on, it was all about staying in our now depleted group. 

A lot of yelling occurred in the race. As usual, I had no idea what the riders were saying, which was fine with me. It's actually kind of funny , " J'eh da les flagrant c'est e$#@#$$". I'm exaggerating of course, but not really. Some of the time, I just had to laugh to myself. I think after I would yell "What?", they realized I didn't speak French and would shut up. Of course, I'm pretty sure they had no idea what I was saying as well when, for the 47th time, a rider would open up a gap or BRAAAKKKKE going into a turn and I would yell some encouraging profanity. Speaking of braking into turns...HOT DAMN! Think of a Slinky Dog. The front of the group stops at full speed going into the turn, while all the riders behind the front are still gliding into the turn. This is intentional, as I am beginning to observe. Or so it seems. Then, BAM BAM BAM, the front 2-3 riders will accelerate extremely hard out of the turn WHILE the back riders are slowing down going into the turn. The result- a lot of pain. And this happens on every single turn, regardless of whether it is actually necessary to brake or not. 

Back home, this may seem, or appear, quite common in races. Hence, the exhortation, "stay at the front". 

This is an entirely new level. 

Imagine doing that for 3 hours. After a while, it starts to wear on you. Add on that if you are off the front, in the wind, chasing down riders, your a bit more fatigued half way through the race. This race taught me that lesson. Pick a good line, stay at the front, and try to minimize braking as much as possible. 

So....with about 2.5 laps to go, I was tired and lost contact with the front group. I think my early efforts eventually took their toll. But, I still finished ahead of a many riders and got some good prize money as well. Oh yeah, it was cool hearing the cheers and my name out there. Super cool!

Funny moment of the race: After the race was over, a jolly Belgium man with a blue striped shirt, beer in hand and cigarette in mouth, started to talk to me in very fast French. I, with my slowly improving Francaise, managed to squeeze into our conversation, "I'm sorry, I'm from California and I speak English and Spanish, but my French is bad", all in French of course. He had a big smile on his face and started to talk again very fast. And then he gave me the thumbs up and returned to the beer line. I think that's a good sign. 

Pictures(I know they are out there) to follow. 

Hardest I've gone...

Not referring to what the girls in college used to tell me. Sorry Paul M-stole that one from you.
Today was stage one of the Tour de Namur. 150K with some climbs but nothing too long-2-3K maximum.
I felt good this entire week and had good expectations going into this race. Before the race, I stopped by the U.S. National team bus and was stoked to see Connor O'Leary at the start line. I met Connor a while back at one of the USA cycling camps in Arizona a couple of years ago. Besides being a beast on the bike, he is also one of the nicest people you will meet. Last year he was diagnosed with testicular cancer so it's awesome to see him recovered and tearing it up in Europe.

Laurent and Jonathan before the race. I think Laurent got in the top 20-30 today. Not sure about Jonathan. 

Before the race. Obviously. 

The car is ready to go!

The race was fast and basically, in my tired and post-race state, I'm going to make it brief. I went through my food in my jersey pocket too quickly and with about 45K to go, ran out of food. BONK. I hit the wall, big time. I made it over all of the climbs, but just got destroyed afterward. . It wasn't even hard when I hit the wall. I floated back to the cars until I came upon my car. Patrice gave me some food but still I think it was too late. I forced as much food down as I could but at that point, it was just about staying with the cars. After about 10 minutes, I got popped out of the cars;  I was by myself for a while until a chase group caught me and still, it was super hard. I don't think I've ever pushed myself as deep into the pain cave as during some of the accelerations up some of the rollers; cramping in my ankles? What? I remember one distinct moment when it actually started to get dark around me and I couldn't feel the lower half of my body. WOO bike racing!

I made it with the my group to the end, and luckily I had a few Americans and Matias for company in my group to exchange some dialogue in English. We finished around 4 minutes back. I paid, however, for my efforts to try to consume as much food as possible in the last 30K. Yeah, some of it came back up when I got back home.

Anyways, tomorrow-more food! More food, more food and more food. Tomorrow is another day.

A day in the life...

Since I have a couple of days off(a week) between races, I thought I would share some details about life outside of bike racing in Belgique-how it is pronounced in French.

First off, the weather in Belgium is ambivalent. It's almost like when you(or I) can't decide whether to wear long pants to San Francisco in the summer. One day it's 30 degrees and hot and the next day 20 degrees and raining. Not that I'm complaining as today was a cool 18 degrees, but warm and slightly raining.

The last few days are a perfect example of this very endemic and unique climate. As I found out, it never gets above 35 degrees and it is almost rare to observe a completely blue sky without any clouds. However, the past two days were the exception. After almost 3 weeks of completely stormy weather, it was finally "summer" here in Wallonie. So nice that we actually had to turn on the AC in the car.

So this is what they do in Spain when the sun is out? Matias getting his tan on.

Summer in Belgium means BBQs outside and our neighbors(Luc's brother-in law) are more than happy to invite everyone over for some great food. Speaking of food, I don't think I've eaten this much meat in my entire life. Apart from the very unique cuisine of cheese and bread, a lot of our meals have consisted of chicken, sausage, more chicken, pasta, vegetables and more cheese. Fromage, as it is called in French, is held in very high regards here in Europe. There is even a book in our house written entirely about the different types of cheeses and what they go best with. One of the gems I recently was introduced to is melted Camembert from the Normandy region of France. It can be eaten any time but I first had it after it had been taken off the grill; with bread and some vino, bon appetit!

When in Belgium

Lunch with Matias:

Did I mention my house mate Matias is crazy for pasta? He thinks I eat a lot of food but that's only because I don't have two dinners a day. Every single day for lunch-Pasta, ham, cheese.
"Sometimes rice, but pasta tastes better" according to the Spaniard.
I indulge every once in a while(when he offers to make it for me), but usually I like to stick with my sandwich, which seems just as foreign to not only Matias, but to my host family Ingrid and Luc, who have a more traditional lunch of bread and yogurt. I told Matias(from Spain) that most riders back in the U.S. have a burrito after a race or ride. He thought I was joking.

Every. Single. Day?!

And today, it rained of course. However, it wasn't too bad. Matias thought it was freezing but actually I enjoyed it. Matias introduced me to some new roads, which were awesome-nice and smooth with relatively no traffic, and we rode part of the road race for one of the stages next week. It has a hill! I think I finally found my terrain-only 60km away from the house!

Enjoying the summer weather

One last note about food; the portion sizes here are extremely small! Well, small compared to those in the U.S. And I'm not talking about McDonalds food either. The bread or juice here is distributed in containers and bags about half the size of those in the U.S. That means one thing-purchases of large quantities. I went to the store today with Ingrid and by the end of our 2 hour excursion in the largest grocery store in Wallonie, our shopping cart looked like an emergency storage container, filled to the brim. I wish I had my camera with me to snap a photo because it was impressive. What's also even more impressive, and a bit disconcerting but expected, is that amount of food will probably only last a week. AHH, I wish I had a photo of it all!

Here are some photos from the last race I did on Saturday. A bit late but still good. 

With two days to go before Tour de Namur, it's pretty much taking it easy. It's pretty hilarious watching French TV, or should I say Belgium. In the end, it's all the same because of the language. We get House, The Jersey Shore, Lie to Me and Desperate House Wives-all in French. Too bad there's no Office on BBC anymore(or the U.S. Office here). Michael!!!! 

Thanks for reading. I'll try and update during the race. Enjoy your sun!