8/16/09 - Race 16: Bekegem Kermis, 116 km

I’m gonna start this story from the end.

I got 24th place at Bekegem. On paper it was one of my better results, I guess… But it has been a while since I had done a kermis and I had learned a lot in that time - the result was a bit of a disappointment. Never mind, 10 Euros in my pocket - can’t complain about that! I rode home with the boys with my mind on a hearty dinner and a good night’s rest. Onward!

I crossed the finish line with one other guy. Behind one other guy. I attacked him through the short cobble section around the last turn with 300 meters to go, but I couldn’t hold it. I had already burnt some big matches. Just ahead my teammate played out the exact same tactic and result against a teammate of the fella who beat me. Shit.

With one lap to go (7.5 km) it was the four of us, two-on-two. With two kilometers to go I let a gap go to my teammate and one of them jumped across. I was too blown to take advantage of the situation. So it became one-on-one, times two!

I was dropped, again. Just up the road, my teammate, Nick, had just popped too. Ahead of him a group of two teammates had started working together, also off the back. I caught Nick and we started chasing the duo ahead of us. Since we had just dropped off the back second group on the road, we were passed by the follow car and ambulance, so we assumed we were on the last lap. We caught the two guys and I ripped past them on the cobbles with the last match I had left and sprinted to the line, throwing my bike to take it from one of the other dudes! … It wasn’t the last lap. You never really know over here until you see the checkered flag and its over. So, I tried to recover.

When I came back to the “peloton” it was only about 15 riders! The race had obviously blown to pieces in the first 60+ km of racing. But I was toast! I did my absolute best to get into the rotation and chill. My legs were burning and my lungs were empty, but it was my head that was in the worst shape. I was mentally toasted and totally disappointed. I only lasted about a lap.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the mind wrapped around the situation quite properly. “Donnie, you’re out of your element!” comes to mind. Not that I haven’t rolled a break before, and it wasn’t that I didn’t belong there, but I still feel uncomfortable in the Belgian peloton. People yell (at me or others) and I’m the only one out of the loop (and unsure whether its at me or not). People yell in English and suddenly I am singled out. It is really a hard barrier to cross - racing as a foreigner - though I am sure once I get used to it, it will be hard to see how it ever seemed so big. Anyways, I let myself be abused. Instead of pushing back or telling someone to “take it easy!” or “steady!” when pulling through I just kind of gritted my teeth and tried to do my share, quietly. I ended up doing more work than anyone. Such a waste. I think I was so focused on not doing more work that I fell into a sort of trap (I think of a pitcher in baseball with a full count being advised “don’t throw a ball!” instead of “throw a strike!” if that makes any sense. I don’t think a strategy is a list of things not to do. Oh well). I still am sort of in shock that I let it happen. Next time, I need to be more assertive and confident. The last moment was a gap opened in the middle of the group and I refused to be used to close it and we were all already on the limit. I just didn’t have the gas to close the gap when the guys behind me jumped me, swearing. I cracked. Physically and mentally. But I set myself up for it. Learnin’!

I was in the break of 12 guys, leading the race! Finally, I made it up there. I knew I was capable - I knew it - but it was so good to finally have everything to come together for me. Immediately, I started trying to size up the situation. My first concern was that I was the only foreigner in the group and I am sure it was the first thing everyone else noticed, too! I knew that they would try to use me and take advantage of my inexperience (its assumed), so I tried to be invisible. Not necessarily the best tactic, in retrospect, but I partly had the right idea. I tried not to take long pulls and show extra excitement and eagerness to work. I made sure not to close gaps that weren’t my responsibility and show willingness to pick up other’s slack. But I also tried to take a nice, steady pull each time through, so nobody would single me out as being strong or weak. Basically, I tried to hold my cards close to my chest.

At the start I was calm and relaxed. I was not worried about whether I would make the lead group or where it might go or who to watch. It didn’t consume me today. I was focused, clear, and relaxed - totally at ease. The first riders went up the road straight from the gun and I just accelerated into a smart position at the head of the race. Five guys dangled just ahead as a counter-move went and was brought back just as quickly. Then, in the next couple kilometers, a couple other moves went, and went nowhere. I was reacting super-quickly, without any thought. Somehow I had found my zone! About 5 km in I took my first real dig, following a counter-attack off a failed move. After a hard kick and a short acceleration, I looked back and there was a solid gap between me and two other guys and the rest of the field. Soon we had caught the leaders and worked immediately to widen a very narrow gap. Things seemed good but I knew the pace would be relentless. The field started to catch us, shattered, about two km later. Only four guys made it completely across before the elastic snapped! Then we were clear and our gap started to grow - painfully, very painfully, but steadily.

The course at Bekegem was everything kermis all wrapped in one. 116 km, 7.5 km loops, a technical section through town, narrow farm roads, crosswinds, cobbles, you name it! JBCA had six guys in a medium-sized field. We had a nice 20 km commute over to the race, registered early (I got lucky #3!) and rode the course once to scope it out. We got to the line just in time to get the prime spots on the front and munch a quick bar - then it was game on!

7/24/09 - Race 7: Ronde Vlaams-Brabant Stage 3, 11 km

Not a whole lot to report today… A nice break for sure! It was a fun little time trial, just under 11 km long. Got on my TT bike out here for the first time ever on the trainer an hour before my start. Needless to say I could have used a little extra time to get accustomed to the setup. But that’s kind of how it goes out here - you get what you need, everything is taken care of… but like everything else in cycling, timeliness is a rare bonus.

Warming up with Will Tehan

The course was super windy and dry, thankfully, but I was blown around quite a bit in the first kilometers and big, sweeping farm roads. The race was basically flat until the last 2 kilometers, which very gradually began to point upwards. By 500 meters to go, the pitch was quite steep, easily six or seven percent gradient. The course was moderately technical, with eight turns, two of which were chicanes. Yet another reason to have had a bit more practice on the bike!

Ben Juzwin, 20th overall, warms up under the super-pro tent-extension

I had a good go. I felt very satisfied with my effort. I was a bit over a minute down on the winner, though not sure about my exact time or place - under 16 minutes and somewhere in the middle of the pack. Our two GC leaders both placed in the top 50, one in the top 20, with both in the top 25 overall after the stage. We have a lot to ride for over the next couple days, should be fun! Tomorrow and Sunday I will race for a stage result, so hopefully I will have an interesting report to go with it!

Job done, the TT bikes get to rest

And... A couple more pics just for fun... Didn't get nearly as geeky as I meant to, but I tried with the one below.

Rebranded Zipp

Wheels and bottles

7/22/09 - Race 5: Ronde Vlaams-Brabant Stage 1, 145 km

Team bikes

My first Belgian UCI stage race! So, I found out at the last minute that I was going to be going (7 am before a 1:30 pm start), which meant I came with a little less of a mental edge than I might like. But I was really glad to be there. The race is five days long, four road stages of 140-160 km apiece on rollers and power climbs, split in the middle by an 11-kilometer time trial. There were 200 starters.

Main sponsor's banner

One of the cars from the caravan in front of the race - think a mini-parade.

Another caravan car

The race today was 145 kilometers and designed to be a stage for the sprinters. There were three large loops of 35 km each before we went into town for five local laps of 8.5 km apiece. The large loop featured two GPM’s (King of the Mountains competition points sprints) at 13.5 km and 25 km.

The guys pinning up before a pre-race chat.

I was in a mix of moves for a bit, but nothing really got too far away. I bridged to a promising looking group as it was forming at about 10 km and we stayed away for a couple minutes, getting caught just as we hit the bottom of the first GPM. The hill wasn’t incredibly steep, but it seemed like everyone wanted points. And I was at my limit. I gave up about 50 spots on the climb, knowing full well that each wheel that past me was one I would have to pass back ASAP. I took a few minutes to recover, using the time to try and pick-off spots where I could. I was able to get back to the front and burnt some more matches in moves that didn’t get anywhere. And that is about when we reached the next GPM, which was just as miserable as the first!

The move of the day was gone at that point, so I just decided to shut it down and conserve. It was hot today, 29 degrees Celsius (so, like… 85 F?) and I lost a bottle on a short cobble section at the start of the second lap… To cut straight to the chase, I never saw the front of the race again. I did my best to hydrate and refuel, but didn’t have great luck with feeds. I made it through to the local laps on three bottles and was dying to get a feed on the local circuit. Our guys were not there yet! In the process though I stayed to the right to try to get a feed and ended up all the way at the back. I made it through the first local lap fine, moving back up the whole way, but had to repeat the process on the second lap. I did get the feed, but it left me in horrible position. I got stuck behind a big split and that was it. “Grupetto!” and we just cruised in, getting pulled with 20 km to go. I think I should get to start no problem tomorrow… But we’ll see!

In any event, I just got a wonderful post-race massage from Noel, quite the gentle giant. I could get used to this!

Some post-race shots of me (after wiping gobs of salt from my face) and the rest of the guys...

All I need is some gel in my hair and maybe a little make-up and I would be true Belgian!

Post-race

Canals

Here's a little teaser from my ride this afternoon:

Schipdonkvaart - Zuid (South Schipdonk Canal Rd)

Today I went on a nice steady endurance cruise along for about 85 kilometers. I am probably doing a five-day UCI stage race, Ronde Vlaams Brabant, which starts on Wednesday and runs through Sunday. The plan was for this to be my last real volume for the week after all the intensity I got in last week. Being a city-boy, I am used to a short (or sometimes long) commute to pretty OK riding and usually lots of traffic. Already I am getting spoiled out here. Granted, there is little variation in terrain - most rides are pancake-flat. However, the rides start straight from the door and within minutes you can forget that you are even around any kind of city/town. The roads are so quite and the drivers are so polite!

As I mentioned before, even riding on a busier road there are wonderful accommodations for cyclists. The most common is a bike path that is separated from the road or clearly painted on the side, often in red paint or with red bricks. This makes even the "worst" parts of rides so much more tolerable than back home.

Bike path - clearly marked and amply separated from the road!

The kicker is that not only are these bike paths clearly marked on the sides of roads, but also straight through intersections! Maybe it is the bright red paint, or maybe it's just some sort of European sensibility, but drivers actually take note! When turning right, across a lane - hold your breath - they yield to bikes! Amazing! It actually makes quite a big difference in the quality of life as a cyclist... Or at least quality life on the bike (is there a difference?).

Yes, this bike path was painted straight through an intersection.

But maybe the greatest pleasure of riding in Belgium is to take the canal roads that meander along miles and miles of scenic waterways with no traffic and only a few bikes and pedestrians. And by a few, I mean a few - nothing like the Westside bike path for those that are familiar!

From the house it is only 2 kilometers to the closest canal, which you can cross via drawbridge to get to the city of Brugge.

The drawbridge to Brugge

A little further north you can hook up with a pretty canal called Schipdonkvaart, which you can ride east for miles (or kilometers, whichever your preference). I have a couple more pics of this canal below:

More from the Schipdonkvaart - Zuid

So for the entire ride today, except for maybe four minutes on each end of the ride, I was on quite canal roads like this one. The towering trees keep the road shaded and cool. This is really one of the most enjoyable loops I have been on in a long time, both because of the scenery and the privateness. And, in the event you actually run into someone else using the same road, the custom is to yell "Pas op!" as you approach (Watch out!) and the politely move to the side... "Dank u!" Very civilized! I wish it worked that easily in the city. Usually calling "On your left," or "Heads up" causes them to swerve further in your direction. Anyways, I am sure my little Belgian infatuation will slowly begin to wear off - but for now I am completely smitten!

7/11/09 - Race 2: GP Stad Geel, Top-Comp, 165 km

GP Stad Geel is a UCI 1.12 race, part of the Top Competition series for U27 riders. The race features a long loop of 120 pancake flat kilometers, which include one cobble sector of two km. Then the race heads back into the start town of Geel, where the streets are lined with fans for the four 12 km finishing circuits. Some of the bigger teams present included a couple Silence-Lotto development squads as well as a Quick Step devo team.

I felt much better before the start than I did at the kermis in Knessalare early in the week. Just the experience of riding in the Belgian peloton (or off the front or off the back, I guess) really helped me break the ice and break through whatever mental block I was dealing with. I was still nervous at the start and felt pretty self-conscious wearing some goofy, four-year-old, baggy kit. But in Belgium if it serves its purpose, nobody gives it a second thought. So whatever. Anyways, I was still expecting some kind of violent, explosive shit to go down and that it would be nose-to-the-stem hard straight from the gun. Instead, it was just pretty fast and steady rolling out of town. At first there were a few hard accelerations winding our way out of town, but on the smaller Belgian roads things got a bit steadier. And it started to pour.

I was super-conscious of positioning, mostly because there was nothing else really to think about. In a peloton of 200+ it is pretty easy to forget there is actually a race going on. “Mullet” racing: business in the front, party in the back. And shit, I am here to race, so might as well be on the business side of things, at least to get a feel for the racing here. So the early part of the race was spent looking for bike paths and sidewalks to sneak up the side of the peloton. In Belgium, the roads are mostly one lane in each direction, plus a bike path on each side. The bike paths are about 4 feet wide and are either painted onto the road as a shoulder, or are separated by a few feet of grass. It means when training you get a lot of respect from motorists and when racing, you have a lot more risky, fun opportunities to try and advance your position!

Heaven!

Anyways, once I was near the front, I started to try and cover the moves to make sure nothing went away with out my team, JBCA (Johan Bruyneel Cycling Academy), represented. It gave a lot of confidence to be riding at the head of such a big race. But the moves were for naught due to the relentless pace in the peloton, which was calculated to be about 46 kph (just a whisker under 29 mph). That was good to know, since try as I might I was going nowhere. So anyways, basically huge portions of the race are a blur of constantly trying to sneak a few positions here, a few positions there in an effort to stay at the front. That and torrential rain! I was aiming to keep about 25 riders back. The funny thing was that the roads we were on were so much wider than most back home and with full enclosure for the race, it meant that the pack was frequently riding 10 or more riders across. So you might see the front of the race, just a few rows ahead… Good position, right? Then, suddenly you turn into a heavy crosswind section, there’s an attack or two or three, the pack strings out, and suddenly fifth row turns into 50th position, at best. Then there’s a split - and guess what, you missed it! True story. There was one big separation in the first 100 km through a 5 km crosswind section and I found myself near the front of the second echelon. We hovered just a few seconds behind the front group even though we were absolutely killing ourselves to make it back. As soon as we turned back onto a tailwind straight, the gap closed in a snap!

The cobbled sector came at kilometer 97 and the 20 minutes leading up to it the peloton was a place of nervous mayhem with everyone jockeying for better position. I came into the cobbles about 30 or 40 riders back - a little further back than I would have liked. The road onto the cobbles was straight, so you couldn’t tell they were coming. That is, until the first riders hit the cobbles. It sounds like a constant, growing, deep rumble of thunder that quickly swallows you up entirely. I didn’t ride over more than five cobbles before I realized that part of the noise was due to a massive pile-up that sent riders sprawling across the road. Did I mention it was raining heavily? Rain + cobbles + bike racing = FAIL. So, I literally went flying off the side of the road, over the ditch and into the grass and then into the weeks, some five feet off the side of the road! The alternative was to join my comrades in agony on the cobbles. I want to get a variety of experiences out here, but I’m just not so eager to experience what crashing on cobbles at 50 kph is like. Judging from the screams I heard, it’s not so fun. The entire two kilometers was spent powering over the side of the road following some bastard’s hub like a donkey and his carrot. When we got through, I was in a group of about 15 riders about 20 seconds behind the peloton, which turned out to be around 40 riders that made it through cleanly. So I had a teammate with me, so we were both working hard to make sure we closed the gap. And bit-by-bit we did, although team cars were passing us, then we were passing them back once we got closer. This made the job easier in one respect as we were able to draft off the caravan at times. But mostly it just made the chase terrifying, since we were coming back into town for the finishing loops and there were lots of twists, turns, braking, and acceleration - not so fun in the middle of a race caravan. We made it back about eight kilometers before the finishing circuits, which was just enough time to reload on fuel and water.

The finishing circuits play out a lot like a kermis, except that everyone has just raced for over 100 km and the legs are a bit tired. The laps are full of corners and jumps, which really feels like hell after the longer loop, but its really important to come into these laps not feeling like it’s a finishing, but rather a substantial portion of the race… Moving up became much harder and there was much more consistent suffering, with the field rarely swelling at all - just a long line of riders through town. However, I did manage to slowly work my way up to the front. With a bit over two circuits to go I was about 25th wheel. It seemed perfect! But apparently, I was in the right spot too soon! Rather than the pace gradually ramping up leading to the finish, there were spurts of intensity, then on narrower roads the pack would get shut down by the Lotto boys at the front, just riding across the whole road! This made it hard to maintain position. In a lot of ways the whole deal is much easier if everyone is hurting and on the rivet. But when it swells up, everyone suddenly has a shot at moving up, which makes things pretty chaotic. There was a pretty big crash in the final lap that nearly took me down, but I scraped through and made it back to the leaders, just in time to watch the field sprint from the back!

We finished more than 100 miles in about three and a half hours. It was hard, but not crazy, but holy shit was the speed high! It was absolutely relentless at the front. It was great to get that one under my belt and my manager was stoked to see my finish with the bunch in my first UCI race over here. I was pretty happy as well. Now its time to start learning a bit more about what to do over here to make the magic happen…

One final note about the start/finish area. Everything was pretty standard, but exceptionally professional. Barricades in the final 250 meters, 50, 100, 150, 200, 250 meters-to-go signs, finishing arches (yes, plural!) and big fatty white line with a black stripe to race towards. The sign-in area was great, a little podium area next to sign in for team photos. Really cool atmosphere. The one strange detail that left me completely baffled was the music. With the highly professional atmosphere, I was shocked by their taste in music. American music, no less. And its not what you might think. Outhere Brothers,"Wiggle Wiggle." Imagine "Thong Song" on steroids if you haven't heard it for yourself. I had never heard the song before, so I guess it was doubly hilarious - once because I couldn't believe a song with those lyrics existed, and second because I couldn't believe that the race was playing it in public, and loudly! I was wondering if anyone understood it, since nobody seemed to think it was odd at all. But most people speak pretty decent English here... Maybe it's one of those "you had to be there" kind of moments. But I had to share. If you are curious, check it out (jump to about 1:00), but be warned, it ain't family/work friendly!

That's all for now. I'll have a bit more on Belgian racing in general and a bit about Belgium outside of racing in the next week. And some photos, too! Stay tuned and thanks for checking in!

7/7/09 - Race 1: Knesselare Kermis, 105 km

I was super-nervous before the race today. I had heard from a lot of different sources how the race would be (hard, etc) and really let it get to my head. It was hard, but rather than take it in stride and race the smartest race I could, I freaked out. I followed an attack in the first 100 meters. Not the worst tactic, actually, but for totally the wrong reasons. It was good to be dictating the race to start rather than having it dictated, but I was burning matches like crazy. Even when we were caught at about 15 km I stayed up at the front and covered a few moves, really digging myself into the red.

Once I settled back into the field I didn’t have the pop left to match accelerations and kept getting gapped and losing spots. Not a bright race for me at all. I think the accelerations are going to be very hard for me to match for 2+ hours, but wasting myself on/off the front isn’t exactly helping the situation. The race gave me a lot of confidence though. I know these guys aren’t out of my league. I am excited for the next one, not scared, which is the biggest accomplishment of the day! Cool tip from Nick Friesen: sprint hard out of the corner - don’t sit until the guy in front of you does.

An interesting tidbit from the day... Registration is held in the back of a smoky bar. Bikes are parked outside, but when you walk in all you see are regulars smoking and drunk, watching sports on TV. Ummm, is this the right place? Walk through to the back and in a tiny little room lit with fluorescent lights there are a bunch of Belgium officials for registration. Weird weird weird. First you have to get a Belgian racing license (5 Euro), then pay to register (8 Euro). After the race you can return your plastic-y number for 5 Euro, so racing is only 3 E/race!

The courses here are pretty cool. A kermis usually (I am told, and it was the case today...) winds through town before heading onto some small 1-lane farm roads before coming back for the finish. Full-closure, of course! Lots of fans on the streets, its just such a cool atmosphere.

That's all for now, more soon!