The Promised Land

I finally got to smash up a cobbled pro race in Belgium, and it was everything I hoped it would be. Sure, I only have this single race to judge from, but as far as I can tell if you take all factors into account Belgian pro racing has got to be the sweetest bike racing in the world. Certainly the sweetest I've ever done.

Belgium is the world center of cycling. Okay, that's a big claim, but look at the facts: it has coolest races on the calendar - the cobbled classics (sorry TdF, thems the facts), the fans are the purest, and it produced Eddy Merckx. I can't speak for every American cyclist out there, but when I think about true feats of heroism on the bike it's always images of hardmen smashing hundreds of miles over cobbles in the rain that come to mind. I never really thought I'd get the chance to be doing the smashing myself, and I got chills just crossing the border into Belgium.

Belgian kids waving at the team car.

At the team meeting the night before the race we got a handout to study detailing all the sectors of pave (cobbles) on the course. That was the first time I've ever gotten one, and for some reason I thought it was very, very cool. I went to sleep studying the thing and thinking about the race, which means it took me a long time to drift off. I must have been keyed up, too, because I woke myself up with nightmares, which NEVER happens to me.

Raceday: Boom! We rolled out to the sign-in/start really stinkin' early, but it turns out it's a good thing we did. Remember when I said Belgian cycling fans are pure? I meant it. I don't mean they're blind fanatics like the tifosi or the Basques, they don't dress up in sumo suits and banana hammocks like the Americans and they won't spit on you like the French (ahhh, stereotyping!). They just really, really love and respect cycling. That was especially apparent when, three full hours before the race, fans were already gathering to look on, snap photos and get autographs. And not just from the big names. Guys were there with binders filled with pages and pages listing every racer, sometimes with a photo, and they wanted to get an autograph for each one. One person had big, high-quality prints of everyone on photo paper that he wanted signed. Wherever I went people would ask me to stop and pose for photos, and there were tons of guys snapping away as we signed on.Sign on, and some French, which I think says we're strange...

There were also kleedklamers, aka: locker rooms. How sweet is that!!! America really needs to jump on the bandwagon here. Instead of changing in a soggy field behind a car door and spending too much time in an overworked porta potty, we got to pin numbers and get kitted up in the comfort of a locker room just for our team. Like real athletes!!! (There were also kleedkamers at the finish so a guy doesn't have to ride 6 hours home in their own stink.)Kleedkamers. I opted for this shot over the one of Jonsey massaging his brain.

But how was the race itself, you ask? Amazing. First off, I got to bust out some Russian on the Katusha guys on the start line. See, dad, that four years at Stanford is really paying off! Right from the gun I felt pretty good, and I can best describe things in terms of how different they were from Holland. In Holland I was on the back foot immediately. I was timid, moving through the pack seemed impossible, and all I wanted was to finish. In Belgium I felt like I owned the road, gaps seemed to open for me as I flowed through the peloton, and I was wondering how I was going to win. I have to thank my coach, Jesse, for a well-timed and well-written email that really got me focused and pumped. I got to the front in about 5 minutes instead of 50, like in Holland, and when I did I already saw teammates throwing down attacks.

The roads were wider in Belgium, and there weren't devastating winds to shatter the field, which made things a lot easier. There were, however, cobbles. For those of you who have never ridden real cobbles, imagine cranking away in hard out race when all of a sudden your bars and front fork are replaced with a jackhammer. You get shaken so badly that your eyes are bouncing around in your skull. You can't accelerate; the best you can do is try to hang on to the speed you've already got.

The course had 3 laps of about 24k and then nine 12k finishing circuits. During the first lap no breaks were getting more than a few seconds. So, during a lull I positioned myself at the front and then attacked with everything I had into a stretch of cobbles. I'm not exaggerating when I say that attacking the shit out of a pro race over Belgian cobbles has to be one of the best sensations I've ever had on a bicycle. It felt amazing. And not only did it feel great, it worked! I got a pretty good gap and when three riders managed to drag themselves across we were clear of the field and started rolling.

Van Dijk was second on the day, and second again on Wednesday to Geert Steegmans at Nokere Koerse. #TPR,².

It was no joke break either. Topsport-Vlaanderen and Willem's Accent are two of the three Belgian Pro Conti teams and An Post (riding for Niki Ekhout) are no slouches. The gap went out to 1'30" and I thought that this would be the move of the day, but we didn't fully commit, and after a short lull back in the field things apparently went ballistic again and the gap started to fall. 45". 24" And then, looking back, we could see the field. The other (more experienced) riders knew the jig was up, but I threw in a little desperation attack, hoping that I might get swept up in the counter, but I ended up just wasting energy.

The rest of the race is a sad story. I had magic legs and was really feeling great in the bunch. No move was going to stick and I was getting really amped to try my luck in the field sprint. But alas, it was not to be. With 7 laps to go I smashed into a massive crater and pinch-flatted at possibly the worst time. We were heading into the feedzone, so my raised hand/cry for help was misinterpreted as a request for a feed and the commissar didn't call my team car up. I rolled all the way to our van, but they weren't prepared for a wheel change, and by the time I got pushed back in the only car behind me was the official end of the caravan. And that was the end of my day. Here's some footage of my demise:

Kipo was feeling supreme and the guys were working for him in the sprint, but he went down with 2 to go. Cronshaw didn't get slotted in at the right position but stuck it out for 24th. Matt Gee "6" had the toughest day of all. For his Belgian debut he flatted at 3k and 50k, and when he finally made it back the the group he got sent back for bottles. He was making his way back up with his jersey stuffed to bursting with bottles when he got his third flat. Ouch. He probably thinks I'm a pansy.

I'll make an effort to write shorter posts more often instead of these epics. But I can't not write about this race. It's been a secret dream to do races just like this since I was a Cat5, and it was so friggin cool to not only be riding the race, but to be a factor in it and feel like I belonged. I really believe that I'm meant for this kind of racing an I hope I get more opportunities to prove it.

Also, we went through the Eurotunnel. And compared to the ferry it did feel like we were traveling at light speed.