I won 5 Euros in my first race. That's good considering entry is 3 Euros and it came with 2 bottles of Duvel beer. I don't think I really deserve 5 Euros for racing. I lasted one third of the race, although while I was tailgunning I caught a bunch of guys and then rolled across the line 2nd in the group. That was good enough for 50th place, the last spot that paid. That's where the nice stuff ends and the weird begins. I hope you have a lot of time because it's going to take a while to explain it all.
The day actually got weird right at the start. Eddy, an old Belgian that is part of the support staff for the team picked me up. We had to pick up Simon, another Tasmanian, because somebody didn't communicate and say where we all needed to be to get to the race. After that we had to pick up Eddy's wife. I'm not sure why she didn't just come with him in the first place. We drove on back roads for a while and I was pretty sure we would miss the race. It's also important to note that I can't really understand Eddy, I'm not sure when he's speaking English or Flemish.
We arrived at the race with a half hour until the start. It was enough time to get dressed and registered but not get that great of a warm up. I was hoping for one because I heard the races go from the gun. I found out that it's true and the attacks started flying.
The race was very fast and aggressive. I can understand acting like that at the front of the race, not at the back. The race goes along, eventually I get gapped and I'm 50 meters off the back. Some guy goes sprinting by me, doesn't catch the field, I catch him and then after a bit he sprints by again. He doesn't catch the field again. Repeat. Had he half a brain, we could have worked together, closed the gap with much less effort and been rewarded by having shelter from the wind a little bit longer. Nothing doing. I think this might be the "freyer" mentality I learned so much about in Israel. You never want to be the sucker and always want to look like the hero.
He eventually decides that it might be a good idea to work together now that the peloton is 30 seconds up the road and we have little hope. We settled in and caught a bunch of guys on the road. One guy thought it was smart to sprint out of every corner. Another thought it was a great idea to sit on the back and rest and then take a turn at the front once in a while and drill it. They probably thought I was stupid because every time I was the first one through a corner I carried my speed and gapped them. I think it may be true that Americans can turn their bikes better than most. It's because of our style of racing but it's also the most efficient. Why would you slow down approaching a corner and then accelerate out? I have to learn how to ask that in Flemish?
After a bit the race officials pulled us out. I didn't know I had gotten into the money until later. This is when the day goes off the wall. I cooled down a bit and went back to Eddy and Staf, the team director. Jean was already there because he was done racing too. Somebody from the race organizers came to offer Diet Coke. I said no, thank you, thinking that it would allow somebody else to enjoy it. Staf starting yelling at me, "Stupid guy, take it" blah blah blah. So I took it and gave it to Jordie, a 13 year old that aspires to race and travels with Jean to watch.
I cleaned up with Eddy's help; he had some alcohol and rubbed it into my back. It felt a little cleaner than plain water. I dressed and made the mistake of the day. I sat down and started to eat a lunch I packed for after the race. Eddy flipped out and said I have to eat it before the race and not after. I ate plenty before the race and I let him know that. He said I shouldn't eat until 2 hours after the race. I said if you hate yourself and your muscles, that's a great idea. But if you want to recover properly, you eat. This is called Bellogic, or Belgian Logic. Some things here don't follow normal rules. Melted cheese has twice the calories of raw cheese. If you shower before a time trial you'll get water in your legs, etc.
This was my first true encounter with Bellogic and I didn't notice it at first. I just kept eating.
I wasn't going to ruin myself based on training ideas from 1967. At this point Jeremy is done with the race and witnesses the madness. Eddy tells us to put Trappist Ale with sugar in our race bottles! That seems like a brilliant idea! Let's get drunk while we're going 27mph! Jeremy has a video of Eddy saying all this I'm hoping to post.
He also tells us to ride behind the derny (a special motorbike to pace bicycles) for 2 hours at 27mph when we're not racing. I think a lot of riders here get burned out because they follow ridiculous training plans like this. A recovery ride here is 5 hours at tempo (not an easy pace, it's a bit of effort).
I thought the madness would end when I took a ride home with Jean, Jordie and Jeremy. We had a fine time driving home and we even got to see a group ride of Smurfs. People were really dressed as Smurfs riding bikes together (I'll post Jeremy's picture of it when I get it).
We were pretty excited to get home, but when we arrived there was a barbecue in our front yard. And beer everywhere. And people smoking cigarettes. And our team director, Staf, having a good old time. I just wanted to shower, eat and relax. I went to work straight away to clean up my gear and start recovering. Naglis offered meat (no thanks) and then offered salad. I took some salad, sat down for a minute and then got back to cleaning up. I went inside and some women started busting my chops for not being friendly. And for being American. I held my cool and let her know I was tired and just wanted to do my own thing. In truth I wanted nothing to do with her or anybody else here. I wanted them to leave, which took quite a while.
I took a bunch of ribbing for my American ideas, or just being American. At one point I let Eddy know that he'd be speaking German if it wasn't for Americans. I'm not sure he understood. I did meet three Americans at the race. They were staying at the Cycling Center in Oostkamp. I thought about going there but it was a bunch more money. In retrospect, perhaps I should have gone there.
I think Staf got the idea that I was miffed that there was a drunk guy on the couch (who they laid down and then gave more alcohol) and people smoking cigarettes inside. He said they would leave soon but before they did, he told me about all the great riders that stayed here; Freddy Rodriguez, Levi Leipheimer, Kirk O'bee, etc. I should care? I don't think they are who they are because of him, because the crew here doesn't seem to know how to help a rider along.
Eventually everyone left and we watch High Crimes with Morgan Freeman and then Jackass on MTV to lift the spirits a bit. And then we got some blessed sleep.
A couple of people came back last night and were here in the morning. They steered clear of me and I hope they never come back.
The day actually got weird right at the start. Eddy, an old Belgian that is part of the support staff for the team picked me up. We had to pick up Simon, another Tasmanian, because somebody didn't communicate and say where we all needed to be to get to the race. After that we had to pick up Eddy's wife. I'm not sure why she didn't just come with him in the first place. We drove on back roads for a while and I was pretty sure we would miss the race. It's also important to note that I can't really understand Eddy, I'm not sure when he's speaking English or Flemish.
We arrived at the race with a half hour until the start. It was enough time to get dressed and registered but not get that great of a warm up. I was hoping for one because I heard the races go from the gun. I found out that it's true and the attacks started flying.
The race was very fast and aggressive. I can understand acting like that at the front of the race, not at the back. The race goes along, eventually I get gapped and I'm 50 meters off the back. Some guy goes sprinting by me, doesn't catch the field, I catch him and then after a bit he sprints by again. He doesn't catch the field again. Repeat. Had he half a brain, we could have worked together, closed the gap with much less effort and been rewarded by having shelter from the wind a little bit longer. Nothing doing. I think this might be the "freyer" mentality I learned so much about in Israel. You never want to be the sucker and always want to look like the hero.
He eventually decides that it might be a good idea to work together now that the peloton is 30 seconds up the road and we have little hope. We settled in and caught a bunch of guys on the road. One guy thought it was smart to sprint out of every corner. Another thought it was a great idea to sit on the back and rest and then take a turn at the front once in a while and drill it. They probably thought I was stupid because every time I was the first one through a corner I carried my speed and gapped them. I think it may be true that Americans can turn their bikes better than most. It's because of our style of racing but it's also the most efficient. Why would you slow down approaching a corner and then accelerate out? I have to learn how to ask that in Flemish?
After a bit the race officials pulled us out. I didn't know I had gotten into the money until later. This is when the day goes off the wall. I cooled down a bit and went back to Eddy and Staf, the team director. Jean was already there because he was done racing too. Somebody from the race organizers came to offer Diet Coke. I said no, thank you, thinking that it would allow somebody else to enjoy it. Staf starting yelling at me, "Stupid guy, take it" blah blah blah. So I took it and gave it to Jordie, a 13 year old that aspires to race and travels with Jean to watch.
I cleaned up with Eddy's help; he had some alcohol and rubbed it into my back. It felt a little cleaner than plain water. I dressed and made the mistake of the day. I sat down and started to eat a lunch I packed for after the race. Eddy flipped out and said I have to eat it before the race and not after. I ate plenty before the race and I let him know that. He said I shouldn't eat until 2 hours after the race. I said if you hate yourself and your muscles, that's a great idea. But if you want to recover properly, you eat. This is called Bellogic, or Belgian Logic. Some things here don't follow normal rules. Melted cheese has twice the calories of raw cheese. If you shower before a time trial you'll get water in your legs, etc.
This was my first true encounter with Bellogic and I didn't notice it at first. I just kept eating.
I wasn't going to ruin myself based on training ideas from 1967. At this point Jeremy is done with the race and witnesses the madness. Eddy tells us to put Trappist Ale with sugar in our race bottles! That seems like a brilliant idea! Let's get drunk while we're going 27mph! Jeremy has a video of Eddy saying all this I'm hoping to post.
He also tells us to ride behind the derny (a special motorbike to pace bicycles) for 2 hours at 27mph when we're not racing. I think a lot of riders here get burned out because they follow ridiculous training plans like this. A recovery ride here is 5 hours at tempo (not an easy pace, it's a bit of effort).
I thought the madness would end when I took a ride home with Jean, Jordie and Jeremy. We had a fine time driving home and we even got to see a group ride of Smurfs. People were really dressed as Smurfs riding bikes together (I'll post Jeremy's picture of it when I get it).
We were pretty excited to get home, but when we arrived there was a barbecue in our front yard. And beer everywhere. And people smoking cigarettes. And our team director, Staf, having a good old time. I just wanted to shower, eat and relax. I went to work straight away to clean up my gear and start recovering. Naglis offered meat (no thanks) and then offered salad. I took some salad, sat down for a minute and then got back to cleaning up. I went inside and some women started busting my chops for not being friendly. And for being American. I held my cool and let her know I was tired and just wanted to do my own thing. In truth I wanted nothing to do with her or anybody else here. I wanted them to leave, which took quite a while.
I took a bunch of ribbing for my American ideas, or just being American. At one point I let Eddy know that he'd be speaking German if it wasn't for Americans. I'm not sure he understood. I did meet three Americans at the race. They were staying at the Cycling Center in Oostkamp. I thought about going there but it was a bunch more money. In retrospect, perhaps I should have gone there.
I think Staf got the idea that I was miffed that there was a drunk guy on the couch (who they laid down and then gave more alcohol) and people smoking cigarettes inside. He said they would leave soon but before they did, he told me about all the great riders that stayed here; Freddy Rodriguez, Levi Leipheimer, Kirk O'bee, etc. I should care? I don't think they are who they are because of him, because the crew here doesn't seem to know how to help a rider along.
Eventually everyone left and we watch High Crimes with Morgan Freeman and then Jackass on MTV to lift the spirits a bit. And then we got some blessed sleep.
A couple of people came back last night and were here in the morning. They steered clear of me and I hope they never come back.
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