Elfstedenronde
The EuroShop Elfstedenronde is a race that is held on the outskirts of Brugge. An exceptionally beautiful city, I was back to racing, I was back in the game.
I’d sat for a month on the turbo, training and imagining a return to racing at The EuroShop Elfstedenronde on May 5, 2024. Why target this race as the race I wanted to hit as my return to racing? Well, it’s a Belgian race, something I feel very comfortable participating in. The Belgian races have a particular style to them, which undoubtedly I have become skilled at reading. For some, the “book” might turn out to be a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, but for me, I feel these races are the 11+ Beast Quest, or Percy Jackson. Books of my youth. Something easy to read, but still sparking my imagination.
In Brugge
The EuroShop Elfstedenronde is a race that is held on the outskirts of Brugge. An exceptionally beautiful city, which I had the pleasure of exploring with my parents last September. This time my visit to those cobbled streets, many of which I recognised from our stroll to a local, famous, chocolate shop, was for a very different reason. I was back to racing, I was back in the game. Just as I had hoped. I had not expected to be quite so back in the game as I found myself in this race.
Fortunately, the race landed on a bank holiday weekend, so my parents and cousin could join me once again in Brugge. As such they were able to enjoy a few days exploring the low-lying (flat) scenic region around Damme—the scene of my first race weekend in Belgium back in 2016. We even recognised several key landmarks that we had taken in the last time we took the trip to Brugge Centrum. I always find it surprising just how settling it is to identify recognisable locations. Sites that calibrate my bearings, that are shaky with nerves, as I head into an exciting weekend of racing.
That theme continued as I gazed over the route map for the Elfstedenronde. Glancing over the line that weaved its way around the region of West Flanders. I spotted those landmarks, city centres and petit roads that I had become so acquainted with over the years. Reading the names sparked memories of races gone by. Key sectors with narrow pinch points where, I knew from previous experience, I had to be at the front of the peloton. From Wingene, through to Torhout, and onto Jabbeke after skirting Lichtervelde and returning to Brugge Centrum—it’s not called the round of 11 cities for nothing—through the technical sequence of turns that gives the Tour Series a run for its money, at least for me at this time—they all ring a bell.
Pre-Race Checks
My first race back, which also marked the day I saw my rebuilt De Rosa 70. No bike feels the same, ever… so I ensured I arrived in the paddock early enough to enable the mechanic, Nico, to productively check over and make any necessary adjustments to the bike without affecting any of his other tasks listed on his checklist. If I turned up late, I knew it would incite a production of Cortisol as I entered a stressed state. I would also stress out the mechanics who had to make sure the equipment for the race car was in order, literally and metaphorically.
I had picked up on my previous experiences where I was rushing to fix unforeseen issues on the morning of the race. In the early days of electronic gears, that was ensuring they were charged. In other cases, it was found out that my TT tyres were too old (as they have a very short life) and no longer held air. All experiences that I built up from dealing with these various incidents. That was why I had committed to arriving early for the race, so I could have the mechanic Nico Doyen’s full attention on what needed to be done.
In the Paddock
The Paddock, like F1, is the central hub of any race, and it is a cool place to be. You forget these things after being away for so long. There are friends up and down, there’s music blaring from behind the darkened screens. I’ve gone from staring at the world of professional cycling behind the rose-tinted glasses of an up-and-coming youth rider to now being on the inside of that shroud. Once the shroud is lifted, and knowledge is shared, all becomes clear.
I often hear the phrase ‘a product of your environment’ and I couldn’t agree more. I now get a clear line of sight into how the professional riders around me, act, look and talk. I can get a sense of what I need to do to perform, from their nutrition strategies, to how they keep their mind busy during the hours between training and races. Each rider has a different process before and after the race, of course, but like micro-dosing on subcultures of each household I stay at, I can pick up on several methods of how they approach their time as a rider.
Finally, before heading to the start line, the paddock is the place, and time, to talk with whoever is about and meet up with old friends. Either in line waiting for the sign-on and traditional wave to the crowd or just before the starting gun is fired–if I’m not set the goal of making the breakaway. On this occasion, my friend Zeb Kyffin sprung the surprise on me by riding towards me with a big smile on his face. Something was different, the beam across his face was wider and brighter than I’d seen before. I noticed his brand-spanking new teeth. He was always a good-looking chap, but the new teeth were sparkling white under the rare Belgian summer sun.
I couldn’t help but compliment them, having had braces myself for years, the teeth when clean and without issue are truly something to smile about. I’m hoping he’s got some mega-startline photos to mark the day. There were others I would fistbump, hug or handshake (Axel De Lie, Jarne Van De Paar, who was there on that first weekend in Damme, Kiaan, Warre, Gianni, Mats). Others I hadn’t seen in a while, whom I was pleased to see on the other side of the barriers (Maayan).
No matter who they were, all the conversations took me into the moment and made me smile, for they’re all incredible people I’m privileged to call friends and colleagues, with whom I can share these experiences. For example, chatting before and during the race is something of a tradition for myself and Jarne who seem to always find each other in those moments–i.e. I don’t need to go looking for him. That has been steadfast throughout the years. That, for me, is cool.
Working to be here
This race came after hours of riding on the turbo, watching ancient video highlights and compilations that used to get me thoroughly excited before races. Partnered with the reduction in caffeine uptake, my body felt like it was starting to work as it should. Adrenaline pumping when I was gearing up for a hard set of intervals, or excited about a vision I had for what I wanted to achieve. That, after so long, was a very welcome feeling to have.
Having had 4 weeks on the turbo, imagining the Elfstedenronde, I was thrilled to be on the start line in Brugge. I was grateful to be back in the team environment and I was ready to do the job I had worked hard for the previous 8 weeks and beyond. 8 weeks is two training mesocycles. Plenty enough time to progress. That was the sole goal. To witness a progression that I hadn’t been prepared to accept for the previous few months. Stuck on a seemingly endless plateau. This latest incident felt like the last straw to acknowledge where I was and not where I had been, or where I should be.
With that, the progress I had seen in training was positive. The power was trending upward over time, and I was feeling stronger with every day that passed. It felt good. There was just one final piece to the puzzle. Would it translate to racing speed? Weighed down by the underlying fear of struggling in every race I had done in the last 12 months, I was anticipatorily nervous by the prospect of how I would convert my training form into the racing peloton. Had my ambition for this race helped direct me in the right way? Had my suspicions about my caffeine intake been well placed, and had I made effective change? Had I effectively increased my muscle mass and power delivery on the bike?
The only thing I was truly excited about was racing, once again in Belgium. My spiritual home. I know the roads, how they ride, and how I can utilise them to my advantage, especially against some of the less experienced Spanish riders in the race. More on that in Veenendaal-Veenendaal.
The Race
Normally, we have a briefing on the bus, in the paddock. However, for this race, we had the briefing uploaded the evening before and presented via PowerPoint with all the narrow points highlighted. All the points on the race course that we, as a team, would be required to be at the front. Alongside that, and the portion I found most useful, was the inclusion of the roles each member was set within the team for the Elfstedenronde. I find it useful to be able to sleep on what is required of me the next day. It’s important to imagine what and how I can achieve a performance I can be proud of. It also gives me the time to align my ambition with that of the team, something that takes time especially if sprung just before the start of the race.
The target for Elfstedenronde was this; we had Sasha Weemaes—on form with several top placings in Turkey and recently in Dunkerque—as our designated sprinter who we’d place and protect in the final and during the course of the race. Once I’d covered the early moves along with my teammates, Louis, Ceriel and Luca DM, I’d revert to part two of the plan. That was to protect and correctly position Sasha around the course, keeping him safe and serving his needs. This was good for me. It allowed me to test my level. It would give me an exact reference point to compare my power pre and post-Vermarc. I knew the work I had done was really positive. I had made good progress in training, and despite that I still had nerves. I knew this role would help settle those nerves and build confidence in my first race back.
With the flag drop the attacks began to fly, and so too my legs. Such a welcome feeling to be able to jump with a move and not fill up to my eyeballs in lactate and hydrogen ions. It’s such a contrast to probably the worst feeling (though I’ve not cramped) when my muscles time out before my cardiovascular system, as they had done for several months previous. This time though, I could jump, recover and proceed to follow the next four potential moves. My heart rate hit new highs. Figures I hadn’t witnessed for a few years. After more than an hour of racing, the breakaway was formed and we had Ceriel in there! Perfect. Now, I searched for Sasha, took some fuel on board and prepared for part two of the Elfstedenronde.
To me, this formative portion of the race was a sign that I had struck gold by listening to my gut and cutting my caffeine intake. My adrenal system seemed to be working at maximum, indicated by the elevated heart rate figures, that set all-time personal records. Unlike the previous months, my heart rate had flipped on its head and did not match my power outputs. Something I did not expect going into this race.
I was enjoying being back on the roads I had grown up racing, rediscovering the craft I was sure I had lost just as my legs had disappeared. The locations of previous successes, Torhout, Jabbeke, Licthervelde, and Wingene sparked off those memories in an even more poignant way as I felt the tarmac under my tyres. Now my brain and body worked as they should, so my tactical side reignited.
Personal Performance
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