The first was deep in the Flanders, in Sint-Maria-Lierde, near the French border. Getting there, we had to cross some of the highlights of the Tour of Flanders course, including the famous, or some would say infamous, climb: The Koppenberg.
Luckily my race didn't include that climb, but it was equally as hilly. There was only a heavy cobbles section for about 6 feet, which was...enough. A climb started 1k before the finish and continued for half the course. The circuit was finished off with a bumpy downhill, surfaced in slabs of concrete, which my lower back got in a strop about after the race.
I felt good at the start, for once. It was a good day, and I was in a good mood, so I went into the race with a bang. I kept on getting into breaks, but there were always people present willing to get into the break, but unwilling to make sure it was the definitive one. Even a pasty boy, balling at them in a harsh, foreign accent wasn't enough for them to sort their life out and do some work.
The pattern of the race was attacks galore. I was determined to get in the coveted break that stayed away. I must've been in about 12 of them that day, but by about 50k, I was feeling the effects. I couldn't follow any more moves, and then I saw competitors spring off the front, get smaller and smaller, fading into the distance. THEY were in the coveted break. THEY were going to get the glory. One of THEM was going to win.
A few chase groups formed but I could only stay in the bunch, I was too spent. I finished deflated, feeling hard done by, but looking forward to the next race.
Dadizele was very close to our base in Beitem, with Sabien and Rik's friends, family and colleagues taking time out of their busy day to come and watch us pedal our bikes around the town for a few hours. Also, with a bike up for grabs and primes nearly every lap, the entry was high.
As ever, winning was high on the agenda. The arduous course tempted the same tactic: attack until you can attack no more. I got better gaps this time, and went past the finish twice thinking I'd stay away in this break, so no point going for the prime. Wrong. The dense crowds spurred on the peloton and they caught us easily.
With three laps to go, Teammate Matthew attacked going for a prime at the fast, slightly downhill finish. Surprisingly, it was unlike the other sprints for the primes and only 4 others challenged him for it, the rest of the bunch sat up. They got a gap and kept on working. I was (sort-of) happy. Again, I had squandered my energy and there was no hope of me doing well here, but at least Matthew was in with a chance.
With 2 laps to go, the attacks started and a chase group quickly formed. I was anxious that Matthew's break would be reeled in, like so many others had been during the race.
1 lap to go and the chase group had been gobbled up by the bunch. The pace was still frantic with Matthew and his other attackers were becoming more visible.
4k to go and the break was frighteningly close, they had only about 15 seconds to everyone else. This would be a cruel ending for Doyle, I thought in my head. We came to the stretched out chicane in the course and there was a crash on the second half of it. A boy from Crabbe came down hard at the front, holding up the bunch, and giving the break a lifeline. Matthew took the opportunity with both hands and stuck it to them with 2k to go (he says it was 1k, but we rode the course again the day after and I believe it was longer and into a headwind).
I rolled in with the bunch, again dissatisfied with my performance and was anxious to see how Matthew got on. I found that out instantly, greeted by Rik bellowing and Matthew grasping me as soon as he saw me.
He'd won! In Belgium! He'd beat Belgians, Frenchmen, and the majority of the US National Team. A wiry boy from Muff had beaten the best.
Celebrations were short lived, we still had another race to ride in Lauwe, and we weren't going to leave Belgium quietly.
We arrived there on a warm but humid day. I was determined to equal my teammate's success, so I changed my gameplan. I was going to leave it to the last 20k to do something.
Again, the course was lumpy. The only difference was that it was on narrow farm roads for quite a bit of the circuit.
The first attack went and it was the only attack. Three Americans got up the road and stayed there. I was still sticking to my plan and would only do something in the last stages of the race.
By 20k to go the Yanks had just under 2 minutes. It was still a bridgeable gap, with the help of a few others. I decided to attack on a climb just before the finish.
It was a prime place to attack. It was a long, winding climb, so you would be out of sight quickly. It lead onto an extensive downhill and a sharp left hander, so a gap could be built up quickly, if the bunch let up...
Which was the problem. Everyone had recognised this opportunity, and everyone was trying to get away. The maximum advantage I had was 20 or 30 seconds. I wasn't getting anywhere. I tried again at the same place, on the other laps but nothing worked.
I was trying to move up coming to the finish and stuck out like a sore thumb, exposed to the headwind, and was shunned to the bottom half of the bunch , unfortunately finishing there.
The race was filled with crashes, with only 22 racers actually finishing the race. I managed to come 23rd according to the results, but I still got my entry fee back so I wasn't complaining. Think I came around 15th so it wasn't that big a slump, or a position to brag about.
So today is my penultimate day on Belgium soil. Looking back, I have learnt a lot. I think I could've got better results with a different mindset.
During my time here I feel I have put a lot of pressure on myself to do well, going into races kicking the shit out of myself and expecting a good outcome, then feeling hard-done-by when I didn't get what I want.
With a good few races in my legs, reflecting back, I wasn't unlucky, I just should have interpreted what happened better.
For example, in Sint-Maria-Lierde, there was a long uphill section, but the other half of the course was downhill so the winner would only get away at the twilight stage of the race, when the amount of possible victors had thinned out.
The same in Dadizele. The climbs were too short to cause serious time gaps and again, telling moves would only happen when everyone was weary, and their guard had faltered.
In Lauwe, the climb was as lengthy as the one in Sint-Maria-Lierde, but the narrow roads would mean an early break would be able to get away. And I should have changed my attacking site if I wanted to bridge to the leaders, instead of predictably going hard in the same place every lap.
These are things that I'd be able to estimate before a race in Ireland, but I was too highly strung to get a result to think about them here.
There are more positives than negatives on this trip though! I have found I can match the foreign competitors physically, have improved moving up the bunch and, obviously, have been taught many lessons in this 28 day learning curve.
I'll take this opportunity to thank the people who got me here. First and foremost Dany Blondeel for getting me and Matthew here in the first place. He runs the project on basically no funds, so help for future participants would be greatly appreciated.
Sabien Himpe and Rik Masil have been great Belgian parents, feeding us (which is quite extensive if you are me), taking us to races and giving us a place of shelter has been invaluable support.
And finally, Matthew. Thanks for putting up with me 24/7 and give me lots of free stuff when you've hit the big time...if I'm not there with you.
This trip has brought my form on, so I'm looking forward to the National Championships at the weekend. It will be great to compare myself to the lads who stayed at home, and the others who got chosen for the Europeans. Let's hope I get a result!
I will probably write a blog after them also, so until then,
Tot ton hé!
Dan
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