Summer Time in Belgium

I have to say, this past week has probably been one of the best since I've arrived at the beginning of summer. Perfect weather, great meals, great bike rides, great people,  races, visiting new places and an all around happy atmosphere. How can I ever leave now?

Taken on one of my favorite rides in Belgium. In Huy, Belgium.

One of the most famous climbs in all of cycling, the Mur du Huy averages 18% for over 1KM. The picture doesn't do justice for how steep it actually is. It is the finishing climb in the Classic Fleche-Wallonne

I had one race on Tuesday which for the most part, was pretty mellow. Very flat, but wide roads and only a couple of turns made for a fast race but not too technical. That is, until the last 3 kilometers. The course had only two hiccups, but of course, they were placed strategically near the finish. I was feeling pretty decent for the most part and the mood was relaxed, given that it's pretty close to the end of the season. A small group of riders got away on the last lap but we were closing down on them fast in the finale.

Remember those hiccups? Well, in the last kilometer, there were two turns, each with road "furniture" right dead smack in the middle. The result: 100+ riders turning at 30mph and then suddenly splitting off into two directions to avoid hitting a road island. I knew this was there, but so did everyone else. Going down the home straight leading up to that turn, I was stuck on the outside. Oh shit. I knew I was in a bad spot and was hoping that the other side of the pelaton would slow down just a tiny fraction so a couple of other riders and I could "slide" ahead. That didn't happen. We made the turn, and because it was the last lap, the animated pelaton decided to throw caution to the wind, swerving left, right, sideways in an everyman for himself fashion. My peripheral vision sent my brain a message: "closing space, closing space". The road got smaller and smaller and smaller. Dark objects suddenly appeared out of nowhere. And suddenly, I had nowhere to go except onto the sidewalk. Oh shit, again. As I bunny hopped onto the sidewalk, I noticed an old man sitting on a lawn chair, except not on the lawn. On the sidewalk. Impact, impact, impact....and suddenly he pushed off the ground with his feet and slid backwards right as I passed by.

Good, but as this was happening, I was losing major ground in the group. I calculated I probably lost around 30-40 places in a matter of seconds. By the time I made it back onto to the road, I was stuck in the middle and it was a bit too late to move or do anything.

Anyways, I finished, again just outside of the money. But what was pretty frustrating about the whole day was that I wasn't even that tired at the end. I might have felt a bit different if I completely emptied the tank but my plan was to save it for the end, and instead, I used it all on a bunny hop. The next race, and last race of the year, it was all in.

And the last race, I can say I left it all out there, which in the end, is all I can ask for. My legs were not feeling 100% after having to run over 1.5 kilometers in 6 minutes to make my train in Ghent two nights before. But regardless, I was dead tired at the end, which was actually a good feeling.

The race was in a very beautiful area in southern Belgium, close to the Ardennes. It features several hills but was only 80km so a bit shorter than usual. Regardless of what place I got, I wanted to make sure I didn't hold anything back. It was the last race of the year and I had nothing to lose.

Luc told me to watch one rider before the race who always managed to make the front group. And I did. The first lap, I sat second wheel, while the rider I was told to mark, pulled the entire field for 10 kilometers. Then, I think he got tired because he sat up and started to drift back. I stayed on his wheel and too drifted back. Riders continued to pass on both sides until I looked around and realized we were at the back of the 80+ rider pelaton. OK. Well, I figured this was a rather precarious place to be so I decided to follow my teammate, also named Julien, with an "e", around for the next couple of laps. This was actually pretty reassuring. I trusted Julien's instincts and decided when he goes, I go. Well, I was doing a perfect job of following him around for 99% of the time, until there was one moment when he was on one side, and I was 1-2 riders apart. And that's when the move went. God Verdomme.

I realized this, and gave 110% to get on the move. From the moment it went to the next 4 laps, it seemed like an eternity of cat and mouse, not only in the chase but in the actual distance to the break. At one point, we got agonizingly close, ~ 6-7 seconds. But, the gap stayed and stayed and stayed. And then, it got even more complicated when our group passed lapped riders. At one point, our chase group caught a lapped pelaton of 40+ riders. Nice. Passing on the single lane road, it was a bit nervous. I don't think they understood "on your left".

I found myself in a 6 rider chase group and we ended up staying off until the end. It was good for 23rd out of a pretty big field. Moreover, I was pretty beat at the end and even though from my armchair perspective I would have done some things differently( as is the case whenever you don't come in first), I learned a lot from this race. I left it all out there and in the end, that's all that matters.


Earlier this week, I visited Antwerpen and met a friend in Ghent, now two of my favorite cities in all of Belgium. Beautiful weather, people and food. I can't really describe how awesome, new, and different it is here but I was taken back by just another Thursday evening in Ghent. So relaxed, casual, serene and happy. People, young and old, with picnic blankets, enjoying wine, beer, and food by the canal while violins serenaded sweet fall and classical music. I think on this night, I fell for Belgium.

Ghent.

I met a Bieke for a drink, which turned into two, and then before I knew it, I had 15 minutes to make the train. We ran over to the tram stop just in time to see the tram going in a different direction. Time quickly ticked by and I now had less than 10 minutes to make the last train to Ottignies. With a full backpack, I clocked probably the fastest run I've done since high school track of Freshmen year. I made the train with less than 1 minute to go. My legs were a little fried, after all, different muscles than cycling:) I just remember the poor guy sitting across from me when I asked if it was ok to sit down in the seat. Covered in sweat and looking like I just came out of a shower, I got his approval, and sat down, all while trying to comprehend how I made that F$**##*$# train. I was still laughing 10 minutes later.

Here's to the Off Season

Now, it's off to discover what else is new in this monde. I can't believe how fast the last couple of months have gone. It seemed just like yesterday when I was boarding the Air Canada flight in SF. So many ups and downs, but I realize now, that's what made this whole part of the season, this whole summer, this whole trip such a memorable experience. Because without all the adversity, the unprecedented moments, the disappointment, the frustrations, it would have been a pretty bland and somewhat banal time. Of course, the ups are much better than the downs. And with every low point I've witnessed, there has been a high point to counter and almost immediately replace it. I've learned so much about not only cycling, but the culture, the people and the country, that it is almost too hard to comprehend or convey. I never imagined before I left how much my life and own perspective would change after immersing myself into what initially was the unknown. Now, I call it my second home.

Time to Explore! Taken at Central Station, Antwerp. 

I can't thank enough all of the people who have supported me here in Belgium and back in the U.S. Bike races come and go but I will keep the friends for life.  It's been a wild ride and I'm looking forward to more new adventures, whatever they may be, in Belgium and Beyond.

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!

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.