Give me a bike over a wheel barrow any day

They say time flies when you’re having fun, this seems to be the case for me.  Following Rutland I went back home for a few days to catch up with friends and family as well as using it as an opportunity to train on harder terrain.  I was pleased when my dad suggested we spend some time together… before he finished the sentence with ‘fixing the leak in the pond’.  But beggars can’t be choosers and I was after a free return to Belgium so I decided a day of manual labour was a small price to pay in return for an overloaded car and a tank of petrol at my dad’s expense.   The following day saw training take a back seat once again as my height came in use and I was asked to paint my sisters bedroom… I couldn’t help thinking my family had saved up the more tedious household jobs for me but it was good to spend time with them never the less.   I always considered myself a fit young guy but a day’s labouring in the garden ruined me physically… I now fully respect anyone who gardens out of pleasure! 

My training back home consisted mainly of riding as many hills as possible and a couple of outings on the Leeds chaingang.  It was good to see many familiar faces and be welcomed home by many of the guys who make up my training partners throughout the winter.  Friday afternoon soon rolled around and it was time once again to swap my home comforts for Belgian alternatives.  I couldn’t leave without taking a few necessities back to Belgium, so with a car full of Shreddies, orange cordial, parkin and a mandalin given to me to broaden my cooking repertoire, I boarded my ferry across to Zebrugge.  I gave my family a brief yet enjoyable tour around the brewery town of Leuven before heading to Westmeerbeek.

Finally to racing, there has been two races this weekend.  The first was a hot and hilly event just 20 kilometres away from our apartment.  We rode out to the race and lined up with 120 guys.  From the start I was struggling, the heat was sapping my strength, I regretted not getting the haircut I had booked back home and the constant accelerations from 10 kmp/h to 50kmp/h out of every corner were beginning to take their toll.  After just an hour and a half I was tailed off.  The recovery process for the Following days race was going to be all about rehydration.  That evening I walked around all evening glued to my 2 litre water bottle constantly sipping.  Sunday was to be a similar affair to Saturday, hot and hilly terrain with 120km to sort out the field of just under 90 riders.  On the opening lap I crossed solo to a breakaway group of 6, only to be joined by another half a dozen riders later on.  In theory more riders is always better in a breakaway.  In reality though every rider is looking to do as little work as possible and conserve his strength for later so ultimately no one really committed and the break was brought back after 25 km of racing.  The terrain was beginning to tell for a lot of the riders and the peloton began to split into groups of 10 and 15 littering the hills and back roads.  I got in a small counter attack around half way through with two team mates.  We committed ourselves fully and rode hard for 40km, bridging a 2 minute gap across to the group in front.  The leaders were safely out in front through and I had to settle for 45^th, I had done a good ride on a very attritional circuit.              

Rutland: a day in the dirt

Setting my alarm for 3:30am is always the low point on race day.  In England I was used to getting up and giving up my Sundays for the pain of a cycle race.  But Saturday 16^th of April was a little bit special for me.  I awoke having not really slept and already brimming with excitement, I was coming home! With a safety cushion that would allow for several coffee stops we set off and arrived at our hotel in Peterborough a full 4 hours early.  I always enjoy watching the opposition at such events, as team cars and riders trickle through the main gate we sat back and watched as teams from Spain, Denmark, Belgium, France and Britain all lined up this year’s equipment in an attempt to get the psychological edge.  Dinner that evening was a similar affair.  An organised team would typically shuffle in all together and look resplendent in their teams leisure wear.  Our team was impressively coordinated as we lined up for soup, showing off our team t-shirts and grabbed a table in the corner to further spy on the competition.  The most impressive team in terms of sheer showiness was the Spanish KTM team who sported fluorescent orange tracksuits aswell as looking more like gigolos than bike riders. 

Sunday came around all too quickly and as we signed on the start line it was apparent that the race was once again going to be blessed with good weather.  172 riders took the start, a couple of early crashes reduced that number but after an hours racing the peloton finally hit the famous dirt roads.  My experience from last year was crucial at this point.  I placed myself behind a couple of experienced riders in Malcolm Elliott and Tom Barrass just before we hit the dirt roads and after maybe two minutes of eye balls out riding and with the face of a coal miner I emerged in around 20^th place.  The pressure had proved too much for all but the strongest and luckiest riders.  The front group consisted of no more than 40 riders at the 80 kilometres to go mark.  As we approached the second sector of gravel lady luck decided that, although she had blessed me with great legs that day, my tires weren’t going to be so lucky…I had punctured!  Races like Rutland Cicle Classic are largely about luck, getting to the end without mechanical problems is half the battle.  I dropped back looking for my team car.  The split behind which I was happy about 5 minutes before was now my undoing as I was forced to stand at the side of the road for around a minute until my team mate ‘Stijn Eneckens’ offered me his front wheel.  This is possibly the most selfless thing a bike rider can do for a team mate and I gratefully took the wheel leaving Stijn to wait for the team car.  The stop had taken its toll on me however as my legs, once fluid and strong now felt heavy and weakened.  I spent several kilometres hanging around the back of the convoy but with the race galloping away up front I knew my chances would have to wait another year.  Bad luck was striking down our team one by one, the only rider left for us was Erwin De Koerf.  He took on the English riders and finished a close second to take possibly the finest result of his life…chapeau!  I left the race still in love with its charm, the fine balance of luck and power that a rider needs to win it will bring me back again next year hopefully.  I got an interesting view from Stijn on the race “I can’t believe a country like England still has roads this bad!”… and this from a rider brought up on cobbles.  For now its time for some good home cooking and some beautiful Yorkshire scenery before going back out to Belgium later this week.  Here are a couple of images from Rutland.

Team Time Trial

England has had a special place on my Calendar as well as in my mind for quite some time now.   April 17^th has become engraved in my mind as Rutland day… the day I get to return home…ish to flaunt my new found abilities as a bike rider on an international stage.  Unfortunately my participation in the ‘East Midlands international Cicle Classic’ has been in question by my team manager.  Fortunately my fears of being dropped from the squad were dismissed with a solid ride the previous Friday evening at Heist-op-de-Berg.   In preparation for our 6 man team travelling to England, I had been told to attend a ‘press conference’ to give the club some good publicity and to get the squad together over a coffee.  I had several pictures running through my mind at the prospect of a Dutch press conference.  To some amusement, my main memory of such a situation was that of former England manager Steve McLaren being interviewed just weeks after moving to Holland.  From memory he spoke like a caricature of himself and sounded like a Dutchman speaking English.  Our press conference was not even similar.  We gathered in a café in Aarschot and posed for photos in our jerseys, my Belgian team mates handled the one keen journalist, rendering my scrap of paper containing two Flemish phrases unnecessary and I was left with one of the biggest anti-climaxes since turning 11 and being presented with a huge box from my auntie, only to eventually find a computer game tucked away in a corner of the monstrosity.       

Tuesday was to be my second new experience in as many days.  We were told just two days before that myself and my room-mate Mike were to form half of the Hand-in-Hand Baal squad for the provincial team time trial.  As far as surprises go, a team time trial was down there with a parking fine.  This was to be a 20 kilometre thrash around a pan flat course near St Truiden.   Having not competed in any sort of time trial since the tender age of 15, I thought ‘Try everything once’ so with youthful exuberance me and Mike set off on the 40 kilometre ride to the course.  Two and a half hours later and with substantially more kilometres than I’d expected due to my expert navigation, we arrived, stripped down to our shorts and slotted in our race wheels.  The wind was incredible with gusts of 50mph…perfect for a bunch of road riders thrown together at the eleventh hour and told to work as smoothly as a Swiss watch.  The opening 400 metres kind of set the tone.  Our first rider pulled his foot out just metres in and just about regained the back of the line in time to be promptly dropped again.  With the time to be taken on the third man we now had to all stay together and work well.  With myself, Mike and Ward Mommaers killing ourselves into the wind we settled into the rhythm.  I had been told before by Mark McNally that team time trialling was like trapping a certain part of your anatomy in a door for half an hour and I’m inclined to agree.  After the opening lap we were caught by the team of Van-Gothem which had set off a minute behind us.  We held it together for the remaining 10 kilometres thanks to some awesome turns on the front by Ward, our very own Cancellara.  We crossed the line spent, I don’t think I have ever suffered as much for so long.  We finished 6^th…out of yes, you guessed it… 6.  Our team were the only team on road bikes and not fully equipped with the latest advancements in aerodynamics so as a race we were never really in it to win it.  But to sum it up I would have to say it is one of the more acquired tastes in cycling, perhaps not for me but I’m definitely glad I had a go! For me the next race is the big one, Rutland international Cicle classic.  I will be returning to the U.K. for a couple of days with my family after this so watch this space for a full rider report from England’s Paris-Roubaix!    

The Grass is always greener on the other side

Lines like ‘every cloud has a silver lining’ and ‘the grass is greener on the other side’ are often used to motivate people in times when the chips are down and there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel.  This has been the type of approach I’ve had to take in the last couple of weeks.   Poor form coupled with a splattering of DNF’s had been doing little for my motivation, but you have to take the rough with the smooth…even if my rough patch had been like a sector of Belgian pave!

Mid-week rides with our neighbour Brecht have become somewhat of a highlight for me and my room-mate Mike.  Brecht teaches us new roads every week as well as having an uncanny ability to do almost the whole ride with a tailwind.   This week’s ride took in two glimpses of ‘Scheldeprijs’, a semi classic for Professional riders.  With unbroken sunshine and good company 150 kilometres flew by.  The day almost took a turn for the worst when I was cut up by a van but a bit of cyclo cross and a lot of leaning against the van allowed me to just keep myself upright.  Once the driver had got out I decided that the six foot scratch down the side of his van compared to my slight friction burn meant that we could call the incident a draw….difficult to communicate in Flemish but I wasn’t hanging around in case he noticed his side door and decided not to call it a draw!  The evening was capped off in gourmet style with Brecht’s wife Nele treating us to three courses of luxury food and a champagne toast at the start.  This was not only a welcome break from the monotonous diet of pasta and potatoes but also a chance to catch the champions league live on T.V. since our television broke 3 weeks ago and is no nearer to being replaced. 

On Friday morning I was awoken rather rudely by the cobbles being dug up outside my front window, now i'm not a suspicous person but this is surely retribution from Belgians road minister for my critiscism of his lazy employees in my last blog... I didn't know I had fans so high up! Friday night came around soon enough and with west Flanders basking in a setting sun it was time to see if I could turn my poor fortune around.  The race was a glorified criterium, 110km on a 5.5 kilometre pan flat circuit.  A strong British contingent on the start line was a welcome sight.  The race went off at a fast pace.  Within seconds the 230 rider field could be seen lined out across the Flemish countryside, for once a welcome sight as I had positioned myself in the top 30 and my legs were feeling comfortable.  Just 4 laps in and a good move from a rider in our team called ‘Stijn Eneckens’ dragged a select group of around 12 riders away.  The group seemed to work well as they disappeared through the town streets.  With no carrot to dangle out in front of the peloton the move looked destined to succeed and with 2 team mates in the group I was obliged to sit tight and let them ride away.  A special mention at this point to Dan McLay who surely did the ride of the day, crossing the gap of near enough a minute solo to join these riders up front.  Stijn is a rider held in the highest regard in our team, many a night I have been lectured on how many times he dies in races and comes back from the brink to take victory, so with this in mind I followed the dangerous moves and allowed the gap to grow out to 2 minutes.  I launched a couple of speculative attacks late on in the race but never gained more than 15 seconds and was left looking for willing riders to help me pull away from the peloton.  The final result was a well-timed victory for a rider from the local Tremelo team.  I came across the line just over 2 minutes behind taking around 10^th in the bunch sprint.  A couple of groups slipped away late on meaning I eventually came away with a placing around 50^th but having felt strong all race and finished comfortably my confidence had been boosted.  I was later told that I had merely had a training ride just sitting in the bunch by our team manager which was disheartening but, it’s almost impossible to put down a rider with endorphins coursing through his veins!

Reflection

Having lived in Belgium for eight weeks now, I feel I should have a moment of reflection on Belgium.  So here goes.  You can ride around Belgium effortlessly for hours on a decent day, its countryside is pleasant enough but to a Yorkshire man it is missing something.  The Belgians seem to have a national obsession with two animals…goats and chickens.  My team manager tells me Belgium has 220 different species of chicken, and as for the goats, these are apparently just Flandriens expressing their reluctance to spend money on lawnmowers.  The latest from spring watch Belgium is that I’ve seen a spring lamb…it was a mere 2 hour ride away!  It has also come to my attention that Belgium has a lot of on-going road works, this is perhaps a generous way of putting it.  Every ride I pass many cornered off sections of road, I appreciate Belgium has been without a government for 8 months now but the lack of progress is astounding. 

Moving onto cycling, I have had an interesting insight this week into shed engineering.  In true James May style, we visited a shed not far from my village to meet an old bloke who went by the name ‘Nest’.  This man is the secret weapon of Jurgen Van Den Broek and Phillipe Gilbert, two of Belgiums finest cyclists.  Before you jump to conclusions I am not about to say he is a chemist, doctor or anything to do with doping, ‘Nest’ is a wheel builder.  Wheel building is a true art form, you can teach it but these gurus will tell you they have a 6^th sense for building a wheel.  I went there in search of a replacement rim to rebuild my wheel after my last tumble (into the daffodils if you remember).  After admiring the rims lined up with names like ‘Gilbert’ tagged to them, I left knowing my wheels were in good hands.  I have been limited to just training over the previous ten days, we have a group ride locally which consists of up to 150 riders on a given Tuesday or Thursday…maybe this is why there is no progress on the road works, the guys are riding their bikes? As I live in the heart of cyclo cross country, I have been privileged to ride with both Sven Nys and more Recently Neils Albert.  This would be the equivalent of Wayne Rooney turning up back home for your Jumpers for Goalposts football match… you see why it’s a privilege. 

As far as racing goes I have seen little competitive action recently due to being overlooked in my team for the last three big races.  A week ago I travelled to the Walloon region in search of a race.  Unfortunately my body seemed to still be recovering from a cold and I was distanced with 35km to go along with another 70 riders who failed to finish on what was a very challenging and selective course close to Roubaix.   

Finally my new word of the month…

Passup- Move (especially useful when on a bike path)

kermes- dont underestimate them

This week has been my first week of proper racing as a full time cyclist.  I always looked upon this lifestyle as an endless stream of café stops, podium girls and glamorous stage races in exotic destinations.  Down at the elite amateur level life is anything but this, café stops still exist but podium girls are reserved for the winners of races and my calendar is filled with hard and fast kermes racing as I can only watch races like ‘Paris-Nice’ on my television.  A quick mention before I continue for my new found ‘guide to Belgium’-Mr Gyles Wingate.  As well as knowing every bike path like the back of his hand, he also knows the best cafes and he seems to command celebrity service.  Having just ordered a Cappuccino, out trotted the café owner to give us some complementary chocolates and free croissants at the latest café in Diest!

Anyway down to racing.  Wednesday was a midweek kermes.  Kermes translates to ‘fair’- the celebratory type like a village gala.  There are often small rides for children, tepee style tents filled with the local brewery produce and the highlight of these outdoor parties is a bike race around the town.  I am particularly fond of this idea as it guarantees plenty of support (often 100’s of people at various stages of inebriation) and means the race starts at 3pm, very civilized then until the racing starts.   Wednesdays race kicked off with rain unfortunately, my legs felt reasonable for only my 4^th race so I attacked early on lap 2 at the bottom of the finish climb…this was a brief bid for freedom and lasted only a matter of minutes.  Having been brought back I settled for what seemed an inevitable wearing down process of crosswinds and hills.  My race ended prematurely however as, with 25km left I wasn’t attentive and struck a traffic island, fortunately for me this particular island had been newly planted with this seasons daffodils so I had a soft but wet landing, I was fine, the front wheel had took the impact and was damaged beyond repair. Better look next time…quite literally!

Saturday was a similar idea to Wednesday, a kermes of 113km near Ghent.  There was probably no more than a speed hump in terms of a climb so fast and flat was the order of the day.  On the plus side though the sun was out and the mercury read a dizzying 15 degrees, for the 2^nd week of March that’s not bad.  You know a race is going to be cramped when you line up next to number 234 so with that in mind I had to be attentive.  No sooner had I got started then the first break went.  A good group of 20 guys had slipped clear and I was angry at myself for missing the move.  I was sure that the race was over in terms of going for the win as the gap shot up to 2 minutes to the peloton within 20km.  After lap 4 of racing the bunch had slowed just a little too much, a touch of wheels close to me brought maybe 15 riders down.  When this happens in a race one of two things happen, either the race is unofficially neutralised to allow the riders a chance to get up, dust themselves off and regain the group.  Or more likely the proverbial waste is about the hit the fan.  The latter happened… a number of teams moved to the front and with the conditions blustery it became apparent that they would ride fast on the front with the aim of getting rid of the weaker riders from the rear of the group.  The next 50 kilometres went by in a painfull blur.  I was at one point in the third echelon however some canny riding (or as my scouse team mate would say ‘I reached into the suitcase of courage’) saw me ride across a couple of groups and back up to the front of the bunch.  Having almost given up at the halfway point we went through the bell lap at breakneck speed with the breakaway now insight.  It was always going to be a cat and mouse situation but with just 400 metres to go the bunch swallowed up the breakaway, paving the way for a big bunch sprint…tour de France style.  With a strong tailwind and 200 motivated riders all looking for a good result I decided to play it safe and stick near the front but not so close that I contested the sprint.  I rolled over the line in 50^th, good speed work even if I wasn’t up there at the end going for the win.  To my surprise I handed my race number back in at the end and was handed an envelope…envelopes mean prize money at the end of a race and I was quietly amused when I had won 10 Euro for 50^th.   




Just a quick picture, i'm 2nd in from the right.  This was Saturdays race.

Crashes, crosswinds and carnage

Having dipped my toe in the water…metaphorically last week, this last weekend was to be more of a shove in at the deep end of Belgian bike racing.  Brussels-Zepperen, a 150km semi classic with crosswinds, cobbles and 198 riders all with something to prove.  A midweek foray into Leuven has been the highlight of the last week, a local British rider called Giles took us on a decent scenic ride into the heart of Belgian beer brewing country.  Leuven is very much a student town but has retained some beautiful architecture and is awash with cafes.  It was also pretty much the first time we had seen Girls our own age on masse, somewhat a treat for four boys who have lived like monks for a month in a small village.  I was also very impressed by the number of people on what Belgians call ‘town bikes’- basically a sit up and beg bike that can be in any condition that the owner uses instead of walking.

Shopping has become somewhat of a quest in Belgium.  As a bike rider living cheaply I try buy my food where ever is cheapest assuming it’s the same quality.  Unfortunately this means, twice a week me and my team mates visit two to three supermarkets to save probably 5 euros… but “it’s not what you spend…it’s what you save” as my mother would say.  Our favourite shop is a supermarket called ‘Colruyt’.  The reason for this is the freebies…Back in Britain its rare to get a tiny chunk of cheese or something from a deli counter.  Colruyt seems to go along with the idea that people need feeding whilst they shop, something I’d go along with.  There is free wine, beer, coffee (with the obligatory biscuits), crisps and if you’re lucky, there is even an oven with chicken nuggets.  Strangely there was also cat food available for tasting…’its Belgium eh’.   After massively abusing the ‘one per person’ rule we leave and hit the local Aldi and Lidl.

Sunday rolled along soon enough, we had been told to expect echelons after just half an hour of racing.  After a massage the night before and a breakfast that could feed a family of four, we headed to Brussels.  The race started under blue skies, sunny but cold was to be the order of the day.  My race started badly, a pile up after just 2km bent my front wheel and saw me back in the convoy to get a speedy wheel change from our mechanic ‘Gert’.  Pacing back on behind the car is a skill, I’m sure I will get better at it, basically you ride just inches off the rear bumper off your team car at speeds of 35-40 mph in an attempt to escape the wind and the resistance that slows you down normally.  After regaining the bunch it became apparent that everyone was nervous for the first big race of the year.  The stakes are high in race of such prestige, a win can help a rider secure a pro contract for the following year.  Unfortunately my legs were abit heavy during the early exchanges, after exiting the key section of the early part of the race, my front wheel was completely wiped out by another rider seeking shelter in the forming echelons.  The race was already split up badly behind meaning my team car was two minutes reaching me.  Race over.  I rolled to the finishing circuits in Zepperen and to my first DNF of the year.  A disappointment as I will only have a handful of opportunities to race at this level all year.