The UCI

I had my first UCI race yesterday. For those of you who don't know what it is, it's just basically a race where teams are compulsory, you gain points by doing well, and with enough points you can take you team to the next level of competition. Anyway, we left the Cycling Center at 10am for Anzegem which was about a forty five minute drive. We drove through some small towns in two cars, each covered in sponsors stickers and bikes on the roof, so everyone looked and pointed from the road. When we got to the venue two and a half hours early, there were already a couple of teams there. We got out of the car and headed for our locker rooms. At UCIs the team has a swanier (the person who looks after the team), a mechanic and a team director. The team doesnt have to worry about taking out the bikes and checking that they work, it all gets done for you. I was surprised too find that we had our own locker room, so we just sat there and talked junk for an hour and a half before we started getting ready. Each one of us got a radio to communicate with our team director from the car and with eachother, which I later found incredibly useful. We went to the inscription and signed ourselves in; this being a relatively small UCI, there was hardly any press which I've heard can be quite amazing at other UCIs. We took a warm up by riding the course. The course was 167km long and had 11 laps, unfortunately for me it was incredibly windy and the stretches were long. So with all the odds against me I would have to race double as hard ans two times more clever to make sure that the wind never touched me. Before we went to the start line we got a massage from our team swanier and a good luck from the rest of the helpers, and it was off to the starting line.

There were about two hundred riders, the atmosphere totally different to a kermesse, more confidence in the air. The reason for this, in my opinion is because UCI have teams, in a team you are way more confident and comfortable, whereas a kermesse you are there alone, scared and skeptical. Our team director radioed us, "you guys have one minute to the start". And then the gun went off, people sprinting, teams forming and the thirty to forty backup vehicles reving their motors and quickly accelerating to keep up with the race. "Guys, top 25 or your race is over", I quickly sprinted to the front and positioned myself at one end of the group to avoid the upcoming wind. The move payed off, and the downhill was next, the tension growing in the group. Three teams of three three riders attacked, "Don't worry about them, they wont work together". I could see and speak to most of my team. The downhill came, we were really moving fast, with sharp turns at such high speeds with two hundred riders eager to get to the front. The out of the corner of my eye a rider went down. Now, the roads here have very sharp and deep edges, so when you go off the edge, you don't get back on, and there were holes lining the edge of the road that were a meter or so deep and a meter wide. That rider fell into the hole face first, his head hitting the side and his body floating upwards in spastic movements. At first I thought he was dead, but he got back on to his bike and started chasing, shows how determined the Belgians are.

After the downhill came the deadly long stretch, where the wind was at its worst. Positioning myself badly there would cost me my race. The group hit it and stretched, I lost alot of positions there just because of the power the front guys were putting in.
"I see a rider too far back, move up", that rider was me, so with lactic acid melting my mouth I powered up the group to gain the positions I had lost. I took a sip of water from on of my bottles, hit a pothole and my bottle went flying; all I heard was "F#$%en American" in about five different languages. At that stage we had lost a rider because of a puncture and on that got blown off the back. "The feading zone is coming up", I positioned myself on the right hand side of the group and grabbed the bottle from our swanier at about 40km/h, I was surprised I caught it.

The race went on, with about six laps to go, I made a stupid mistake. I felt myself falling to the back of the group, and with the deadly stretch coming up I knew I had made the mistake. I quickly reacted, trying to postion myself, but it was too late. The wind hit, I tried to take cover behind the person in front of me, but he too was a minute rider who was quick to lose the rider in front of him. Me and two other team mates fell of on that lap.

It was a long race, in the end I was so frustrated at myself because I knew that I was capable of finishing if I had just rode more clever. However I did enjoy it in the end and I gained a ton of experience.

Michelangelo

I finally saw the Michelangelo painting in the main Cathedral of Brugge today, it was quite spectacular. The cathedral is gargantuam, it's really difficult to take in everything. You almost feel lost. Brugge is an incredibly dense city with buildings packed tightly together, each boasting something expensive or worth seeing. The town is quite massive and from a birds eye view looks like a maze, it really is and with all the tourists its difficult to see everything. To be quite honest, it's so commercial that you focus more on the things for sale than the history, it's really a tourist trap. I feel better riding my bicycle through Brugge, you get more sightseeing in, and by travelling into the dark alleys you really see the old parts of the city.

Today I went with three other guys. Brugge is usually the place to unwind for everybody at Cycling Center, if you know where to go in the tourist pit. We saw the the best voted chocolate in Europe, of course I bought a piece. It was too good to be explained in words, I'm sorry. Though I did have a small tear come out when I bit into it. It was a fun day, got some presents for my family and friends while I was there, so it was well worth it.

Looking Good

The team for the UCI this weekend has six of the CC members. We all had to go on a traing ride today, and practice our echalon. One of the rules at CC, is that we always have to wear our team clothing when we ride together. We were riding in a tight formation through som ancient village when a group of about twenty ladies all dressed in the same clothing approached in the distance. When they saw us they waved and cheered, i don't know why yet. It was very exciting though, every person, child of farmer would wave and shout something. I enjoy going on group rides for that particular reason because I know people think we look pretty good, quite a confidence booster. But then you start to forget about it when you're pressing against the wind at over 40 km/h in a tight echalon for almost two hours. I was buggered afterwards, but I manged to get in a sprint for the Herstberge sign.

Email

If I'm not training, reading or watching races on Belgian television, I'm scouring for comments, replies and emails. If you've got extra time please send me some emails or even some hate mail would be pretty interesting to read. I promise you will have a reply within 12 hours, my email is wesjac@gmail.com.

Broken

Two days ago, I opened up the shower door to find something horrible, something those with soft hearts couldn't tolerate.......
The shower nozzle was broken,with that a futile and pathetic effort at DIY was performed in the hoping of saving the once operable shower, it hung by a single elastic band.

It's not really that bad, I just added a little spunk to it. We just have to hold the nozzle upright now while we shower. Though the culprit hasn't come out yet and I do intend on finding out who it was that performed the elastic DIY. Thats just one of the broken things in the house. The washing machine breaks every second day, so when operable again, a barbaric battle is fought to get clothes washed. I was opening a can of tuna the otherday when the can opener decided to give up; there was tuna everywhere, the stench unbearable. But, in the end I guess these types of problems are experienced in every household.

Check out the www.cyclingcenter.com for more on where I'm staying at the moment.

I also changed a seeting on my page, so you can add comments without having to have to be a member.

The test

I only realized now that yesterday that I haven't written anything on my test, it happened about a wekk and a half ago, so here it is.

Dr. Dag is the Discovery team doctor and fortunately he is our doctor too. He is a young and incredibly friendly person. I was up first on the list to do my lactate test, and when I entered the room where the tests were held, a Dr. Dag appraoched me and said "Goeie more Wesley, dis lekker in Suid Afrika?" I replied and grinned, he then went on to give the inscruction for the test in english. We ride on a machine that he had custom made for himself, at an average cadence of 100, every 3 minutes the load increases and so does your power. He pricks your ear and takes a blood sample on every load increase. I was stroling through the test in the beggining dreaming of breaking the machine, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. I got to 400 watts on the verge of tears from the pain, he then told me to stop.
"You need more power, to ride here competitively in Belgium"
Weighing 57kg, I had a good power to weight ratio at the end of the test, so I was happy. The other guys in the house produced an average of 450 watts, some going into the 500 watt range.
Dr. Dag will write me a program and hopefully it will increase my power a bit more.

Anyway, I'm doing my first UCI this weekend in Aanzegem, a 1.12b, I'll let you know how that goes. And please comment, it gives me something else to read other than Micheal Crichton and Dan Brown.

The Biker Gang

After my Kermesse on Sunday I rode round with my teammate Whit spinning out the lactic acid, strolling round on the cracked streets of Ardooie. The town, a granny infested and highly conservative place was a haven for the senior French Belgians, occasionally a young face would pop from the sea of seniors.

Then......in the distance, a disgusting whining sound ricocheted off the buildings on the side of the street. The squeaking sound grew louder and louder, I soon anticipated the worst and duckedd for cover. Finally 'They' became visible. The sound was a gang of about twenty kids seated in proffesional aerodynamic positions on ancient mini 50cc motorbikes. Quite relieved at the sight, I left my place of safety to get in a good laugh. They rusted bikes with tiny marie biscuit wheels, others rode more bigger more feared 'scooters'.

I found it quite hilarious, because they took themselves to be the local 'Badass gang', speeding throught the streets of Ardooie, I named them the:

Ardooie Angels


In a city filled with grannified old farts, one group of youthfuls rose to form the ultimate rebellion, straddling their metal 50cc steeds approaching speeds close to 50km/h evoking fear among those who dared to step foot in Ardooie, they were 'The Ardooie Angels'.

French Logic

I did another kermesse yesterday in the South yesterday. It was semi hilly so our team manager got the climbers to do it. There were four of us on the selection, but Derek unfortunately hurt his hamstring and couldn't race. The drive down was long, however we did go through Brussels and Gent so we got a bit of sight seeing in. Arne, one of the Belgians on the team got his father to drive us through. He was incredibly helpful, putting on pre race rub, strapping our numbers to our bike and making sure we were well fed. As usual the inscription was held in an alchol smoke spewing pit, only this time the race officials were French. The first thing we get told about racing in France or any French region of Belgium, is that all logic falls away. There are no race markers or barricades like in West Flanders, so checking out the course before the race is not possible. Another thing I noticed is that riders fill in from the front and not the back like in the West.

There were about 170 riders at the start line with two groups at right angles to eachother, arguing over which direction the race was going to start (pure chaos), eventually the race official crawled out of the smoke pit and spoke some french, and with that the convertible lead car came out of nowhere and started the race. Again it was pure chaos with the two groups colliding to form one while following the convertible. It was a neutral start, the convertible hitting a long flat and and accelerating away from the group. From that point the riders hammered it in the front hitting an average of 48 to 50 on the flats. The first break went, one rider from a local team, then another three and then another 2 all to find themselves sucked back into the ravenous peloton after half a lap. Amazingly there were no break aways that made it during the whole race, apparently because there was no wind. Then came the cobbles, being a small rider I had to throw myself at the cobbles to gain a bit of speed at the start of the section, it went on for about 400 m and then on to a small hill which threw som unlucky souls off in the first laps. The lap was 12km long with a massive downhill stretchthat formed a funnel into the narrwo winding streets. Again, it was chaos, with near crashes and handlebars touching, people shouting. A dog jumped out of nowhere and leaped inot the peloton causing some riders to sprint for there survival in the race. After that another car parked in the middle of the road causing a close call.

It took about three laps for the riders to get used to eachother. Unfortunately on my 7th lap the group went into a gutter formation, a person pushed in front of me and cost me my race when the gap he formed was impossible to close. However it was by far the most tense Kermesse I've done so far. Apparently it's the way the South does it. It just adds that extra bit of excitement, I like it.

Some pictures of Herstberge

We had a meeting yesterday with our team manager. I managed to take in alot of useful imformation for racing, for example:

• If a team attacks as the gun goes and they end up winning, they are either Russians or Litthuanians.
• If they look the same, they are Russians or Lithuanians.
• Top thirty is the place to be, anywhere behind there and you've lost the race.
• The Belgians that shout and hit are usually the ones who don't do well at inter clubs.
• If you get shouted at, it might be useful.

I've also been told that there are many times when you might get offered a few hundred euros to not sprint the winner but to work with him. It happens quite alot, people pitch up with alot of euros to win so that sponsors notice them, its good to take it because you become well known and sometimes good to refuse because they can take advantage of you in every kermesse. I've heard of some stories from my teammates who have been fortunate enough to be in a break away, some of the racers go to the back to decide on who's going to last so that they know who to pay and who to not. However, it doesn't happen at every race, not at UCI's.

Some more Pictures

Thanks again for the comments. Here are some more pictures with more focus on the riders, unfortunately the batteries went flat when I got someone else to take of me, so mom I promise I will get some of me soon. The guy washing the bicycle is Derek ,the guy fixing the bike is Nathan, washing dishes is the Belgian Kevin, the two in the kitchen are my roommates Rob and Aaron. Those are two of the five team vehicles we have here. These are only fraction of the team, I'll try and take some more of the team.

The Comments

Thanks for all the comments, I really appreciate it. I have found a chocolate store Estelle, in fact I've found about four million of them, they're every where. We've been told by the manager of our team that anything from beer to chocolate must try to be avoided for the sake of the teams image and for our performance. Everybody recognizes us as the "Boys from Hertsberge" and if we had to buy chocolate, our team manager would be notified by whoever it was that spotted us red handed.

En baie dankie Lizelle,
and keep on commenting, and I'll consider fixing my horrible spelling mistakes.

Discovery

I had 3km intervals to do today, I thought the best place to go was the canals. Its a massive canal about 40m across that stretches through part of Belgium. It's a good place to train because on both sides there are roads for cyclists where no cars travel, so its quite peaceful and flat, perfect for sprinting and intervals. I chose to ride in the direction of Gent, which is about 40km from where I begin in Sint Jose.

Anyway, I was racing tractors (the tractors here are like formula 1 cars) down the canal and concentrating on my intervals when in the distance a group of eight cyclists dressed in a dark uniform approached. At first I thought they were a local Belgian team, but then I noticed the Discovery logo on their jerseys, I was really excited and before I knew it they were past with no time to recognize any of the riders. Secretly I wanted to turn round and say "Hey Hincappie, Danielson, I'll sprint you to that sign there," but unfortunately I knew that wouldn't happen and I would probably beat them (I wish).

That put a smile on my face, and five minutes after that I arrived in Gent. I took an hour of my ride to explore some of the hidden streets. It's a really big city with lots of beautiful parts and its fair share of concrete catastrophes. I decided to take a secret path into a forest and found a massive castle, I stood staring at that for a few minutes. I then decided that it was time to get back home. I've found that in this region of Belgium the wind always blows in from the west, so my whole ride home was spent fighting the western monster.

I've now seen Discovery, some of the Phonak, Quickstep and Saunier Duval team and organizers. The Giro d' Italia apparently starts near here this year, so hopefully I'll be able to complete my collection of team sightings for this year, it sounds nerdy but it motivates me to the teams out riding.

Recon for Liege

Yesterday was a long day, the previous day I found out that I was on the list to do the recon for the u-23 Liege-Bastogne-Liege. The start is three hours away from the Cycling Center in the South of Belgium. It might sound strange, but the south is seriously hilly.

On the way down I stared out the car window at the changing signs, from Flemish in Flanders to French in Liege. The signs are'nt all that change along with the scenery, but the architecture. The towns become much more bigger and older towards the south, and the churches are more gothic, darker and almost pagan. We parked the team van in a Spar parking lot (there are Spars in Belgium). The town we started in was hidden in a small valley with a small river running through it. I could tell that it was a tourist attraction in the winter though. We got dressed at got going up the steep hill out of the starting town, with 180km ahead of us. All six of us were dressed in our team uniform, which is dominantly stars and stripes. "Americans!", the local farmers shouted as we rode through the ancient farming villages dotted with dark stone buildings and castles. We took the first 50 km really easy and got to the first hill, a steep 3 km climb. Unfortunately I didn't know that it was that long, so I sprinted and suffered the rest of the way up.

The rest of the ride was hard, chasing eachother, sprinting for town signs non stop. The infamous hill of Liege approached in the distance, decorated withe old farmhouses on the sides as it snakes up the monstrous gradient. We hit it hard, struggling to move in our 25s and small blades. The pain was incredible, but with such a competitive vibe in the u-23 group, getting off your bike or dropping was unofficially not aloud. The hill seemed to have gone on for ever, if I do the race I really don't know how the hell I'll be able to do this hill. By the end of the hill if was stuffed, completely blown and not in the mood to do another 60 kms. We stopped off in a small skiing town to get some drinks and I noticed how completely different the south is. Despite speaking French, they even look abit different and their attitudes are different too, almost more unfriendly in a way. We got going again, with a gradual 40 km drag ahead blotted with one or two pathetic infinitesmal downhills. There's a rule I managed to pick up on the way back that my teammates all obey: when someone pulls over to take a pee, you don't slow down and wait like we do at home, you and the rest of the group ride like its team time trial. So I had to ride my ass off with two other friends to catch up to the guys again, then at the end of the ride two other guys attacked again leaving us catching yet again. At the end I was completely stuffed and happy to see the small town in the valley again.

We stopped and ate at a small cozy hotel in the town, where I had the best pasta of my life.
It was one hard race recon, or recon race.

To all at home

To everybody at home, could you please leave your name as a comment so I know that I can know if people actually read my blog. Thanks.

The Canadian

I was sitting in the kitchen the last Friday morning after a long training session eating a massive sandwhich. Here in the kitchen you'll always find at least four people eating excessive amounts of food. However on Friday was somebody new, he was dressed in a FC Barcelona tracksuit. We all greeted him, his name was Stefan and he said he was staying for the weekend for a race somewhere in Belgium. He explained that the tracksuit was given to him by his team "FC Barcelona". One of the guys asked him if whether he played for the football team and he explained that the football team also sponsored a cycling team and that they had the 5th biggest budget in Spain.

He came from Canada and had been staying in Spain for quite a while now. He's quite a lucky bastard, not only does he get to ride for a spanish team, but he also gets to live in a house with a a bunch of female super models. Apparently he is a male model and got the job when he was waitering in Canada and an agent from Diesel jeans offered him a job.

He says the Spanish cycling is a different experience to the Belgian. Instead of being shat out for passing someone here in Belgium, they would move over for you and offer you a place in front in Spain. He also told us of how frustratingly slowly the spanish riders go on the flat and what monsters they turned to when the hills came.

Anyway, I thought I might as well start telling you about the interesting characters I meet, and this was definetely one of them. I woke up this morning and he was gone, off to the warm sun in Barcelona.

The Belgians aren't shy

Today I had to do an easy spinning session on the trainer. We have a sought of sun room on the edge of our building used for indoor training, it's got five rollers and two trainers and when the sun does shine, it gets hell hot inside there. Anyway, I was spinning away and listening to my i-pod when a man dressed like a snobbish tennis player came right up to the window next to me with a baby on his shoulder. The other guys at the house told me that the locals swung by often to check up on us, so I just smiled and waved, he just smiled and pointed at me for his baby. Then a second child with a bicycle helmet who must have been about four popped up next to the man and stared at me to, and finally a woman about the same age as the man stood and watched. I felt incredibly awkward, riding there with this supposedly cycling zealot family staring at me for about five minutes. Finally the man walked off after his wife, but the little child with the helmet remained, staring. The father came back and finally took the child away.

This isn't the first time, I was washing my bike in the pleasent Belgian weather this morning when four old men came up to me, "Hey there!" Trying to sound American not knowing that I was actually South African. They gave me a sticker of the Saunier Duval team jersey. Bernard later explained to me that they were sauniers from Saunier Duval, just coming to visit.

I suppose I'm use to having a gate with electrified fences hauled up outside blocking our view of the outside world, not like here in belgian where the mail man will pop in for a visit, or a group of runners who wave at us while we eat our breakfast. The Belgians aren't shy.

Hill training in belgium, Conspiracy or truth?

We got our training programs for this week. For today I had a 1 hour sober ride (you have to wake up, not eat and do some easing spinning on the rollers). Then in the afternoon I had a three hour ride with hill intervals. The hill is a joke, Klapperkop is a Himalayan gargantuam monster compare to it. Its about 100 m long, with a small bend in it, and its not even steep. Nonetheless, its quite a beautiful area, with a massive windmill at the top and an ancient church pitched next to it. There are no cars there so its eerily quiet, you can hear a cow moo on a farm twenty kilometres away. Anyway, I went training with some of the guys, it's fun training with them because they sprint for every sign visible, plus most of them are 1500 waat pushers so its a real challenge. As usual, it was as cold as hell and the wind was strong, but I'm used to it now. It's cool riding in a group all dressed in stars and stripes, the locals seem to like it when we ride past and we get shouts from the local schools.

On sunday I saw a group of about twenty grannies on their hybrid bikes, probaly doing their shop run, in a eschelon (its when you ride in a certain formation to block out the wind and take turns in the front), it was hilarious because they looked like Discovery, and they were so serious. On a sunday, everybody rides their bikes here, there are hardly any cars on the road.

I'm having my first massage tommorow from the Navigators therapist, he's british, over six foot tall and people say he can break your leg with little or no effort if he wants to, so I'm quite nervous now.

I was brewing up a theory the other night while eating some hard stale bread for dinner. There are alot of cupboards in this house, and it used to be a motel, it was also owned by a belgian who had to endure long winters in the flat depressing land of West Flanders. There has to be a collection of dead bodies in one of the cupboards here. I'm not saying there are, but I will keep you updated on my search.

some pictures:

heres the road where our Cycling Center is, if you look carefully you can see a gradient in the road, thats where I do my hill training. In one of the trees you might see a hanging dead body, if you look carefully enough.

Just some pictures of belgium

Hey Mom, check its your car!

Racing in the front

The front of the race is obviously the best place to be, but f*^%#n hard to to keep there. With a pack of 170 racers all determined to get to the front, you get pulled into a yoyo effect, continuosly fighting to get to the front only to find yourself ending up in the back again. The front is aggresive, irritable frenchmen and belgians shouting and cursing and even hitting you to work. The front is hostile but its the place where the winning break brews just behind the bickering workers. When the break goes, its too late to catch up from the back and you'll be way too tired when your turn in the front is finished.

Living with a team

There must be a reason why I'm not home sick at all. Living with 24 cyclists all aspiring to become pros is wonderful. You wouldnt think so because you would associate a typical cyclist with a difficult and demanding pe'rson whos needs come first. Yes, they are like that to a certain extent, but in way its better that, everybody to his own. With competive cycling comes a strong a mind, to keep your mind strong you have to keep positive all the time. Everybody here is positive, so there's a definite positive atmosphere here. Theres no bickering or fighting and no badmouthing others, because after all we're all here with racing in mind, not making friends.

We've got a Pro continental team here called 'The Navigators''. They're a very cool team, with lots of stories of what its like to ride next Zabel, how hard it is to ride with Boonen powering away in the front and what its like to sprint against Mcewen. Plus we get sauniers from teams like CSC and Phonak coming to give us speeches and advice on what its like to be a pro. So we don't just race here, we learn alot from others .The house we're staying at was a hotel before our team manager bought it and renovated it. So our rooms are really comfortable inside. We've got a massive TV room where we watch a movie every night on the projector. There are three kitchens in house, so theres no chaos at all and especially when theres times appointed for cooking.

Another reason I feel at home here is because of the feeling of independence. I no longer have my mother doing my shopping, cooking for me or having my maid do my washing and making my bed. I do everything for myself here. It definetely gives me a sense of satisfaction.

So with the positive attitudes of my team mates, the damanding races twice a week and being left to do my own thing, I guess I can honestly say that racing here in belgium is possible with the right attitude.

My First Kermesse

My first kermesse was on my first week here on a Sunday in a small town called Tielt which is about 17km from our team house in Hertsberge. Theres a kermesse in belgium almost everyday, so our coach has got us racing about twice a week. The race was 115 km, 19 laps, which is considered short in belgium, with an average race distance of 160km.

The race entries in belgium are always held in a pub that spews dense smoke and loud flemish. Its very organized, you give them your license, they take down your details and youve got your number. It costs ýou about 8 euro and you get back 5 euro if you return your number.

The Kermesse was held in a tiny, gray and depressing village. The weather was typical of belgium, I saw the sun once for about three seconds and the wind was eating my skin away with its icy touch. Its quite amazing, while warming up I noticed every single family in the village retreating from their homes towards the pub in the center of the village to go and watch the race. The belgians love cycling, no matter who's racing. They point fingers at certain riders and make negative and positive remarks as they go.

If theres one thing I've noticed in these two weeks, its the belgian cyclists' mentality towards racing. When I race in South Africa, I go to the toilet about 29 times all because of my nerves, the reason being because of the intimidating auras the other racers emit, why? Because in SA its a fashion show, the racers pitch up with bronze tanned legs drenched in wintergreen despite it being the middle of summer, Rudy Projects perfectly positioned on their helmets throwing hostile stares at every rider that they don't know. However, here in Belgium, the racers pitch up in old shorts and shirts, no evil eyes and everybody here is a powerhouse, an asset when the when there's a head wind. They bunch every age group together , so you'll see a vets and juniours shouting at eachother all the time.
In South Africa, racers dress to kill, in Belgian they race to kill. The officials here are incredibly laid back, they wont set up the start line until five minutes to go. When the line is setup, the riders race to get a good postion, and pile up so that you struggle to breath. All 120 riders are possesed to win. I just cant describe how hard they go when the gun goes, the infinite amount of power they push out just to get to the front. This all out effort goes on to the first bend, which in this race was about five hundred metres from the start. When the turn comes they don't brake until thet need to, when they do shoulders bash together, people shout and wheels touch, but no accidents. The handling skills of the belgian cyclists are just amazing, we ride so close together that our handlebars actually touch. When a long road comes, the group stretches on forever. Inside the group I saw a cyclist punch another cyclist because he pushed in front of him. The accelerations are indescribable, you sit on the edge of your seat, your teeth embedded in your handlebar, just to keep up with the wheel in front of you. I lasted two laps before the group started drifting away from me and the wind hit me harder than the b-group riders brake when they see a stone in the rode. The wind here blows so hard here that its impossible to ride out of the group. I rode on abit longer when the broom wagon rode next to me and told me to get off the circuit, a gap of three minutes and more is not aloud. I did much better today though, I managed to stick with the group for 14 laps. On my first kermesse 23 riders finished out of the 120. Today there were about 170 riders, lots of angry french riders too.

Anyway, its really great here at the house, we've got a projector, so we watch movies at night. The americans are great to live with too. I feel like a pro here, I can train when I want, because the weather is always the same in the day. I can cook up nice meals with the bakery and the butcher right round the corner.


These kermesses might be as hard as hell, but they're incredibly fun. The aggresion, tension and speed just makes it so enjoyable. I can't wait to race again.