On Sunday I went to Deinze, on a quest to break into the top 10. With 12th in the previous race, I was confident I could do it.
En route to the race my head was in a good place. Beats were flowing into my ears, getting me tuned up for the future suffering in store.
On the startline, the Garmin-Cervelo Junior Development team rolled up. Emotions were mixed. On one hand, I was pondering how much of the handlebars I could eat struggling to sit on their wheels, and on the other I judged it as a good opportunity to see how good I was compared to them. I stuck with the latter hand, and the glass-half-full mentality, with my attitude still positive before the starting signal.
The circuit was very challenging, the majority of it on concrete, so the rhythmic, 'bo-bom, bo-bom,' was ever-present during the race. The only chance for respite on the course was a wide open road, however the opportunity was snatched on the day, as it was a block headwind on that stretch.
We were off. The pace was viscous, many riders bursting for the freedom of being up the road in the break. Burn, again. My legs were overloaded with those annoying toxins for yet another time. I was still relaxed, and went for the strategy of the previous race, to hide a bit, and bide my time for my pegs to give me the thumbs up to get racing.
But it was to no avail, my legs were in a stubborn mood and just wouldn't get going. I knew this would be a hard 80k. I hid A LOT; struggling to stay in the bunch, watching in agony the countless number of participants skipping away from me, fragmenting the race to pieces.
I finished in the top 40, I believe, however I think there was a mix up with my official placing. They had me down for 60th, the last finisher, when I remember being at the front of the group I finished in. I had too much pride to follow up the error, but it would have been nice to get my entry fee back (top 40 get €5 prizemoney, the same amount it costs to enter).
It was a race to forget, and it really pissed me off. I was angry with how poorly I had performed. I'm glad I didn't do a blog quickly after that race, as I'm sure I would've had to take it down soon after!
The days went by and my focus increased on my next race in Kooigem. I was determined to do well here. I didn't care if my legs refused to function, I was going to do well, no matter what.
I didn't listen to any music on the drive to the race, I wanted to be completely focused on my motive
to do well: get into the top 5, however top 10 was acceptable. And with teammate Doyle betting that if I got 10th he would camp in the garden, it was a goal that had to be scored.
This course was a rare one. It had a thing that Ireland had in abundance....a hill! It was a hard climb; every time we went up it was tough. Especially with KoH points at the top up for grabs on every other lap. It was a big ring ascent at the bottom of the block, flat out. These Belgians don't understand, you go slower up a hill, not the same speed as on the flat!
Over 90 riders signed on, and the start was mayhem. Everyone trying to get to the front and the race hadn't even started yet. The pace was again, frantic and my legs were again, fryer tucked. Jens Voigt
mode was deployed this time, however, 'Shut up, legs!'
After a few laps I had anchored myself in the top third of the field and I was happy as Larry. My plan was to watch for any dangerous moves, and if they were all closed down, try a late attack up the inside, in the bike lane, as everyone else seemed to be neglecting it on every previous lap when coming to the finish.
I was just about to pop open the champagne, so proud of my glorious plan when the heavens opened...in front of us. We were pedalling towards the pending doom. I was well positioned and we came to the first corner soaked in water.
BANG!
Carbon was flying in all directions, with bodies following suit. I had to track stand for a minute or so before I could get past the mayhem. The chase back on was hard but I was still determined to unleash my flawless strategy.
I made contact with the main field. Relief. Now to concentrate on how to get that good result I was hoping for. There were lots of corners in the course, and after the majority seeing and/or hearing the clunk of metal earlier, everyone had learned it would be best to creep around the corners in order to stay upright.
I was quite confident in my bike-handling in the wet. It was a weakness in the past, which I had addressed in the winter so it was an advantage for me to have a greasy, wet surface to race on. Not forgetting that I come from the land which seems to have a storm cloud magnet embedded into its core. These Belgians aren't used to racing in the rain, where as in Ireland it was just a condition you have to accept in most races!
The bunch were exiting a corner, and I was in the middle of the bunch, planning to move up further. The surface was still soaking.
AGAIN, clunk, clunk, clunk.
ANOTHER crash at THE FRONT of the bunch. I was travelling around 50kph at the time so had to lock up the rear wheel before I deployed the front brake to get the machine below me to halt before the battle scene, putting a nice flat-spot into Matthew's tubs I had borrowed for the race.
AGAIN, I had to chase, but this time I had nothing left. The reserves had been squandered on the last chase back, and I was pedalling squares. I was truly gutted.
For a while, I was TTing in no-mans-land behind the bunch. Well, sort of TTing, in as much pain as I could muster up, but when I looked down at my Garmin, the numbers I was putting out were now at face-palm level.
I looked behind, and a large group were coming up which had also been caught up in the crash. I waited for them, in order to gain a bit of temporary respite for the finish.
I managed to get 2nd in the sprint of that group, but the damage was already done. I was sullenly disappointed. I was craving a good result and I didn't get it. I did the right things in order to achieve that,such as stay at the front, but two crashes at the head of the field prevented me from accomplishing my task. I had to settle for a mediocre 36th out of 93 starters. What annoyed me even more was I was really enjoying the race. The speed, the multiple corners, the cobbled section had me thinking in my head, 'This is what I cycle for'. Those emotions were then halted by other racers' interests of colliding with each other.
I would usually believe that you make your own luck, but at that race bad luck was haunting me like a storm cloud hovering above my head all day. I was pretty annoyed at the amount of people who couldn't ride their bike in the wet. I thought it was a fundamental skill, that in the wet you use your back brake before you even think about using your front. Why? If you lose your rear wheel in a drift, there's a good chance you can get it under control again. If you lose your front, you'll only know about it when kissing the tarmac. I guess it isn't. The fact that people from all over the world, some at the very top level, were all present, and there were still 6 crashes in a 90k race.
I'm still hunting for a good result while I'm here which I truly believe I'm capable of, I just need Lady Luck on my side next time!
My next race is on Wednesday,so I'll hopefully have Doyle out camping in the garden by then!
Until then, vaarwel.
Dan
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