Prepping for Paris-Roubaix

All is quiet now...

This Sunday all of us who are suckers for a great bike race will be sitting down in front of the TV (or hunkering along a roadside in northern France if we're lucky) to witness one of the greatest single day races on the calendar.  For cycling connoisseurs this is the greatest month in cycling.  Sorry, July.  Last Sunday we had De Ronde van Vlaanderen, Paris-Roubaix this Sunday, and then the week of the Ardennes Classics beginning on the 20th.  It's the height of the Spring Classics season, and there isn't a better time of year to be a cycling fan.  I love the Spring Classics, particularly the ones in April, more than anything else on the schedule.  I love how unpredictable they are.  I love the landscape.  And, I love the intensity.  It's really hard to pick a favorite race.  Even after spectating almost all of them last year, I still couldn't pick one.  You can't beat the atmosphere at the Tour of Flanders.  Paris-Roubaix is hauntingly gorgeous.  The legacy and unique nature of the Ardennes can't be denied.  But, for many Roubaix is their number one.  It's a pretty big deal.

This week the teams are out on reconnaissance rides, prepping their bikes and minds for the Hell of the North.  Meanwhile, we fans have our own prepping to do.  We certainly shouldn't arrive on Sunday ill prepared anymore than the riders should.  How does a fan prepare, you ask?

First off, it doesn't hurt to review the events of last year's race.  You can watch the entire broadcast of the 2013 Paris-Roubaix here.   Of course, it wouldn't hurt to catch up on the 2012 edition either and relive Tom Boonen's famous solo ride.  Next, there are the documentaries.  The most well-known is Jørgen Leth's A Sunday in Hell which documents the 1976 edition featuring The Merckx, Roger De Vlaeminck, Francesco Moser, and Freddy Maertens.  This is one of the greats in cycling documentaries, but a little difficult to get your hands on.  Snippets are available online, but if you want to watch the whole thing you'll have to buy a copy.  Those aren't too easy to find either.  The next great documentary is the 2009 Road to Roubaix.  Lastly, you can catch the CBS broadcast of the 1988 edition which not only covers the race, but provides some great behind the scenes footage of Team 7-Eleven.  And, if you don't mind an amateur's attempt, here's my quick video of the Arenberg from last year.  


Trouée d'Arenberg from CG Inlux on Vimeo.

As for reading material, I have two recommendations.  First of all, the write up on The Inner Ring website is a fantastic, quick read on the history of the race.  They also feature some beautiful photos.  For a more lengthy story of L'enfer du Nord, check out the recently published book The Monuments by Peter Cossins.  I haven't gotten to the Roubaix section yet, but the Liege-Bastogne-Liege chapter was very well done.  

With all that under your belt you should be pretty well prepared for Sunday.  As for Sunday itself, all you have to do is find the least dodgy feed (unless you live somewhere that will broadcast in English), sit back, and watch the drama unfold.  Of course, all of this would be more enjoyable if preceded or followed by a bike ride (depending on your timezone).  But, you're guaranteed a successful Roubaix if it includes a great menu.  I've spent most of the week focusing on my Roubaix Day dinner and I'm pretty pleased with the final lineup.  For those who are interested, here's what I've come up with:

Starter

Deviled Eggs de l'enfer

Main

Poulet avec Pavè

"Punctured" Flat Noodles with Herbs

Classic Spring Classic Salad

Dessert*

Cinnamon-Sugar Dusted Shortbread Cobbles

or

Nutella Mud Pie

*Dessert Menu dependent on Sunday's weather.  I'm hoping for rain.

Drink pairings have yet to be determined.  I'm taking recommendations, as long as it's something I can find in a German grocery store.  

Anyway, Sunday will definitely not disappoint in regards to the racing.  Will Cancellara pull off a fourth win?  Will Boonen set the new record for the most wins?  Or, will another contender take the glory?  We'll find out on Sunday.  See you there!

Watch a Movie Trailer, Support Women's Cycling

It's no secret that the ladies aren't getting their due in the professional cycling scene.  The ignorance and disrespect of women's professional cycling by the UCI (the sport's governing body), race organizers, and the media is so complete that it is embarrassing.  The attitudes are practically medieval.

While American professional cycling fans are often exasperated by the limited coverage men's racing gets by the national sports media, that coverage is light years beyond what the women receive- Zero. Of course, things aren't much better in Europe.  I've seen a total of three broadcasted women's races on Eurosport in the last year and a half- the 2012 Worlds, the Olympic Road Race, and the Olympic Time Trial.  Well, since the Summer Olympics only come around once every four years, that makes the average number of broadcasted women's races at 1.5 a year.  However, keep in mind that if the broadcasters decide something else is more interesting, that coverage could be cancelled altogether.  Those watching this year's Amgen Tour of California witnessed just such a move from broadcasters when the coverage of the Women's Time Trial was limited to two, two riders.  Then, the coverage cut to the men's competition, after a significant period of blank air time.  Somehow in their minds, a black screen was more interesting than the women's competition.  Talk about a slap in the face.

For those fans who are aware of the feats being performed in the women's circuit, the denial of witnessing it is extremely frustrating and angering.  I can only imagine what it does to the athletes themselves.  Not only do they have to deal with being ignored, they aren't given the same monetary incentives as the men.  The minimum wage is significantly lower than their male counterpart's.

As fans, what can be done?  Well, as we know from all its past and current sins, the UCI isn't going to make the right decision of its own accord.  However, that doesn't mean we should just accept this offense, shrug our shoulders in defeat, and keep our mouths shut.  If there's one thing we've learned from all the doping scandals, speaking out and making noise is the best weapon for change.  It may take a while, but if enough of us scream, something will happen.

Thankfully, someone is trying to make some noise and you can be apart of it.  Journalist and author Kathryn Bertine has been a professional cyclist since 2007.  She has teamed up with filmmaker Kevin Tokstad to create the documentary "Half the Road."  It features interviews with top female cyclists, athletes, and others to explore exactly what women's racing is all about as well as the injustices inflicted on the sport from the powers that be.  The trailer is pretty exciting and I look forward to seeing the final product.

www.halftheroad.com

So, the great thing about this project is that you can support it.  They are currently in need of donations to make this documentary a reality.  In November 2013, the final film will be ready for public screenings. So, if you have the capability to host a screening *I'm looking at you bike shop owners* you can sign up on the website.  Why should you give your support to this project?  Because women's cycling is in desperate need of support.  Projects like this documentary can reach outside the small niche of fans who already know what these ladies are doing.  The stories and performances of women like Kristin Armstrong, Ina-Yoko Tuetenberg, Evelyn Stevens, and Marianne Vos are just as powerful and in some cases more so than those in the men's peloton.  The trouble is, no one knows it yet.

Why should people outside the sport know about women's racing?  Because when the public starts hearing about all the positive things going on they're going to get interested, and when the public gets interested that's when the sport grows.  Hate to bring it up as evidence, but we all remember the Armstrong effect on recreational riding in the States back in the '90's.  Imagine what Vos would do for the sport if the public actually heard about her.  In many ways the slights being felt by professional ladies has trickled down to the rest of us.  Cycling is still marketed as a boy's club.  So, my weekend warrior sisters and I constantly struggle against a prejudiced industry.  Maybe with some positive media coverage (heck, any coverage) women would begin to feel more comfortable about road cycling.  Maybe they wouldn't feel like they don't belong anymore.  Perhaps companies would take the women's market seriously.  Maybe women riders would enjoy the same product variety and availability the boys get.  Perhaps we too could step into the LBS and find what we're after instead of scouring the internet.   Maybe, maybe we could get some respect on the roads.  Maybe one day we won't have to wear pink.

Sigh...A girl can dream, right?

Anyway, I suggest that you support this film project if you're aware of and annoyed by the wrongs being committed against the women's professional peloton.  Even if you're only slightly aware of what's going on, your support of Half the Road will benefit the sport of cycling as a whole.  These women are just as committed, just as hardcore as the boys.  They deserve the same respect.  This film may help them get it, and no harm will come from that.

For more information visit the the project's website at www.halftheroad.com.

Guide to Spectating the Spring Classics

Well, as painful as it is, we've said goodbye to this year's Spring classics after last Sunday's Liège-Bastogne-Liège.  Overall, it was a good season, except for the Belgians who for the first time since 1918 didn't find themselves on the top step of the podium in a single contest.  While 2013 wasn't their year, it definitely brought better results for the old king of the Classics who proved he isn't planning on abdicating just yet.  Cancellera's destruction of Sagan on the Paterberg during Flanders and his superior performance during Paris-Roubaix were nothing short of spectacular and a pleasure to watch.  Nothing against Sagan, of course, but the young pup still has some things to learn.  No doubt he will be a major presence on the roads of northern Europe for years to come and we can expect great things.

The best race of the season?  That prize definitely goes to L'enfer du Nord.  From the dusty cobbles, to the unexpected shake ups, to the drama at the finish, the Queen of the Classics delivered just the kind of race we as fans love to watch.  Of course, in my opinion, La Doyenne is a close second.  There was just something grand about the way Garmin riders Hesjedal and Martin rode last Sunday.

The Classics have been and always will be my favorites to watch, and I am completely grateful to have had the chance to see many of them in person this year.  If given the chance to do so again, I will definitely take it.  Last Sunday we ran into another American couple who ended up watching LBL on the same corner in Bastogne as us.  It was their first race, just like LBL had been our first race last year.  Though they're based out of Germany, they hope to catch a few more races during their stint and were looking for some advice.  As we talked, I thought perhaps others may be interested in some of the tricks and tips we picked up this season.  So, here they are.

How you spectate all depends on how long you're in the area.  If you live local or have plenty of vacation time to make an extended stay, you can catch a lot of races.  If you only have time to catch one or two, you'll want to make the most of the experience.  If the race calendar stays the same, the weeks between the Ronde and Liège-Bastogne-Liège are the height of the season.  If you have that month to spend, you will get your fill of bike racing.  If you only have a week, then the Ardennes Classics are your best bet to see three races, Sunday to Sunday, without having to travel around too much.  Similarly, the week of the Ronde/Paris-Roubaix also contained the Scheldeprijs this year.  Of course, the calendar can change so keep an eye out for date announcements.  Ardennes week is less likely to change, but if cobbles are your preference some good planning can get you to more than one.

If you're going to stay for a week, look into vacation rentals instead of hotels.  There are tons of houses for rent in the Belgian Ardennes, and there are plenty of apartment options in places like Gent or Maastricht.  I'd avoid tourist infested Bruges as the rates are higher and the spaces are smaller.  If you get a rental you can bring your bike along and ride around the area during the week.  Rentals are much cheaper than hotels and usually have better amenities.  Buy food and cook in to save even more money.

Chasing works best for "straight" races
like Paris-Roubaix

Once you decide what you want to see, the next task is to determine how you want to watch.  There are a couple ways to watch a race.  You can either stay put in one spot or you can spend the day chasing the race.  I have not done the latter, but many people do.  If you only have a chance to see one race like Paris-Roubaix, this might be your best option.  Unlike the Ronde or Amstel Gold, Paris-Roubaix is mostly a straight shot from Compiègne to Roubaix.  Once they go by, that's it.  Chasing also works best with the "straight" routes because road closures will be easier to detour around.  However, if you do plan to chase all day, don't do it alone.  You will need a navigator in the car with you to plan around road closures.  You'll also want to remember that this is the most stressful way to watch a race.  If you aren't familiar with traffic patterns, the area, or the language, it will be even more stressful.  If you're not the type who works well under pressure, this may not be the best way to spend your time spectating.  Also, the excuse, "I'm chasing the bike race," isn't going to get you out of a speeding ticket.

If staying in one spot sounds more appealing, you'll probably want to make the most of that spot. Unless you speak Dutch or French, listening to a radio probably isn't going to be of much use.  So, if you want to be able to follow the race from your spot, having access to the internet or a television will be your best bet.  If you are able to get data access from your cellular provider, Twitter is the easiest source of race information as it isn't difficult to load.  However, 3G service is quite spotty in the countryside, so you may still be out of luck.

The best spots to watch a race have big TV's.  That way you won't miss any of the
action.

Many races have large TV's set up at popular spectator spots along the route, for example the Arenberg Forest for Paris-Roubaix and the Paterberg climb of the Ronde.  There should also be a TV at the finish of all the races.  The nice thing about these locations is that they also have other facilities,- food, drink, and Porto-Johns.  They also have the highest concentration of spectators, which makes for excellent people watching while you're waiting for the race to come through.  If you only have a chance to see one race, shoot for one that does multiple circuits of these areas.  My personal favorite spectating spot this year was the Paterberg during the Ronde.  That climb had all the necessary facilities for all day spectating.  Plus, there was a TV and plenty of company.  Besides the men's three laps of the climb, there was the women's race to enjoy as well.

To help in the spot choosing, check out the race's website in advance and print out the time table and course map.  These are good points of reference for keeping tracking of the timing on the day of the race.  You may also want to print out the team rosters with the bib numbers.  Studying the course maps ahead of time will also help in the logistical end of things.   If you're driving to the race, you will need to park your car off course for most of them.  Belgium has been thoroughly mapped with Google StreetView and we have found that to be an indispensable tool for locating parking and spectating options.  Once we have a few candidates, we jot down their GPS coordinates for use on the day.  It has been our experience in Europe that using street addresses is rarely accurate, but you rarely go wrong with coordinates.  Of course, having an old paper fashioned map on hand doesn't hurt either.

Ok, now that you have your spots located and the lodging/transportation sorted, what else do you need to know?

1.  Get there early.  The earlier you arrive on course, the closer you can park the car and the easier it is to choose a good spot to watch.  We arrived at dawn at a couple races, and while it can be a little boring it is rather nice to watch all the build-up before hand.  If you only have one chance to see a Classic, best to spend the whole day.

A cold sunrise in Flanders shouldn't be missed on race day.

Arctic attire is appropriate for the early season.

2.  The Spring Classics aren't comfortable races to spectate.  These races don't take place during the warm days of July in sunny France.  You will be cold; bundle up.  Keep in mind that you could spend hours standing still in the middle of nowhere, so thermal long underwear isn't a bad idea.  We also bring foot and handwarmers.  A thermos of hot tea will also come in handy, as will one of those paper cones of hot frites that are sold at certain points along the course.


3.  Bring your camera.  While you're not going to get the shots you see from the pros, you can still take pictures of the spectators or film a little video.  You will want to document the day, but don't worry so much about documenting the race itself.  Even if you are watching on a steep climb, they still go by fast and are tough to capture on camera on cloudy days.

4.  Don't bring your bike.  First of all, no one is interested in watching you attempt the Oude Kwaremont.  Trust me.  Secondly, if you fail you will be laughed at and more than one person will take a picture.  Don't do that to yourself.  Thirdly, even though it is race day, that won't stop someone from swiping your wheels when you're not looking.  If you want to ride your bike on the course come several days early when the road won't be lined with bored spectators.  If you insist on riding the day of the race, at least do everyone a favor and purchase a new, properly fitting kit.  No one wants to see that either.

5.  Don't be a jerk.  We're glad you're proud to be Flemish, or Australian, or German, or whatever.  I know how you feel, I'm proud to be American.  You're also welcome to support your countrymen in competition.  But, honestly, the giant flags really aren't necessary.  They make it hard for other people to see, and in the worst cases they have been known to get caught in race cars and the rider's bikes.  If you insist on displaying your national pride, at least do so respectfully and out of the way.  Everyone wants to be able to see, but there's no need to be pushy and rude.

Speaking of being respectful, while it may seem funny at the time to run along with the riders, no one else thinks it is and you're an idiot.  Same thing applies to those that slap the riders on the back as they go by.



6.  Pay attention.  Cars and riders will pass right along the edge of the roads and along the barriers.  More than one rider was felled by an oblivious spectator this season.  Don't be that person.  In addition, do what the police tell you to do.  The Flemish cops were the only ones we saw who seemed like they enjoyed being at the race.  The rest clearly wanted to be doing something else, and didn't take any crap from spectators.  Don't mess with them.

Happy cops aren't common at the races.  

7.  Leave the kids and pets at home, unless they're also fans.  Our dog doesn't have an ounce of cycling appreciation.  The only time he came along was when we didn't have another option.  He was cold and bored and clearly didn't see any reason for being there.  Many dogs don't like the noise, which is why some have been known to break their leads and run into the race.  If you do need to bring your dog, have them secured with two leads.  You don't want to get someone hurt, and you certainly don't want your dog to get hurt either.

Unlike these two, not all children are fans of bike racing.  If your's isn't, it may be best to wait for warmer races.

Children who aren't fans of cycling will also not understand the point of being there.  A summer race like the Tour de France may be a better fit since the weather is more pleasant and the caravan is far more entertaining.  Most of the children we saw at the Classics were diehard fans, probably more than their parents.  The ones that weren't looked pretty miserable.

8.  Relax.  Bring some chairs and some snacks and kick back to enjoy the day.  Just soak up the scene of the race, and don't worry so much about having the "perfect" experience.  With some good planning, you can have a great time.  Even if things don't go as the way you planned, just roll with it.  Enjoy yourself!

Roubaix Noir

Last Sunday was, of course, Paris-Roubaix, the Hell of the North.  Like every edition before it, the 2013 race was full of drama, brutality, and the unexpected.  The Arenberg forest is probably the most recognizable stretch of cobbles of the course.  While it appears early in the race and won't usually determine the winner, it will still do some serious damage to the peloton.  It's an old road.  Its famous cobbles were laid when Napoleon I was tromping around the area.  It was laid to service the mines lying below the surface of the forest.  The 1962 world champion, Jean Stablinski, who used to work in those mines, suggested the 2.4km stretch when the race organizers were looking for more challenging roads to spruce up the race course.  It's been a feature of Paris-Roubaix ever since it was added in 1968.    Over time it became the iconic image of the race.  A memorial to Stablinski stands at the southern end.

It's an interesting place, like no other road.  Anywhere.  I'm still at a loss on how to describe it in words.

So, instead I'll leave you with this, the only way I could really wrap my brain around it.

Trouée d'Arenberg from CG Inlux on Vimeo.

View from the Hill: A Day on the Paterberg

The moon is almost full and still sitting far above the horizon line.  The sun is on its way up, however, and that orange glow is starting to appear around the edges of the frost covered hills, pastures, and orchards.  The countryside is silent, except for a distant rooster announcing the start of the morning.  The cows are all still warm in their barns, but the lights are on and the farmers have been hard at work for some time.  The horses are out, wrapped up in their blankets and lazily munching hay while they keep one eye on those strangers walking up the road with their chairs, blankets, and warm beverages.

It's 6:30am and we're walking up the hallowed stones of the Paterberg climb.  It made it's first appearance in the great Ronde in 1986 and with the 2012 the route change, it is now the final climb of the monumental race.  More than likely, this is where the race will be determined.  Whoever makes it up first on the final lap will likely be one of the three guys on the podium.  That's thinking too far ahead at this point.  The sun has barely made an appearance.  That final climb won't be happening for another ten hours or so.

We're the first people here.  Arriving this early might be a little excessive, but this is probably the only chance we have for a little time in silence to take this place in.  Just us and the hill.

The barriers have been up and wrapped in their advertisements for a while.  The amateurs had their race yesterday, and standing here makes us wonder how things went for them at this point.  Who made it up?  Who didn't?  Who knows.

Movement is brewing on the hill.  A boy grinds the gears of his mountainbike ever so slowly up while his dad watches from below.  The guy who dropped off the Porto-Johns apparently had a bit of a mishap and there's a thick layer of blue ice covering the cobbles.  It's a precarious spot for walkers and mountainbikes.  The boy turns around and bombs back down to begin attempt number two.  The police are trickling in, a couple pause beneath the summit sign for a quick picture.  Next the support crew and TV crew begin to arrive.  Deep discussions in Flemish occur about camera and cable placement.  The caterers pull in and immediately get their truck stuck in the slippery grass.  They're followed by the paramedics and the satellite TV guy.  Everyone who pulls into the field gets stuck.  The paramedics in their bright yellow coats immediately jump into action, scurrying across the field to rescue the next victim of frozen dew.  Tires spin and paramedics push.  Some vehicles survive, others remain in the clutches of the field.

Spectators begin to arrive, ascending the pitch of the hill with varying paces.  They're joined by cyclists on road bikes and mountainbikes.  Some have the latest model others brought their teal steal ride purchased circa 1988.  Some are wearing mismatched kits from the same era.  You know, lycra gets a little threadbare in certain areas over time?  Not all of them are successful, usually tipping somewhere around the blue ice field.  But, as the sun climbs higher, the ice thaws and the ascents become more successful.  Steam pours out of the frite truck.  The rest of the police have arrived.  Their captain has the best goatee we've seen in a while.  They're divvying up their assignments.  Apparently an agreement has been made that reinforcements will be needed near the top of the climb and around the frite/TV/beer field.  Things could get a little crazy depending how the local favorites perform.

Meanwhile, there seems to be a problem with the satellite connection.  Either it is the TV guy's first day on the job or there's something wrong with the equipment.  He moves the dish a little to the left, then back to the right, then back to the left, and so on.  So far, no luck.

The hill begins to fill up.  Plastic glasses filled with Jupiler start getting handed out around 10:00am; it's never too early for pils on Ronde day.  Lion of Flanders flags, both official and separatist versions, start showing up.

It's still cold.  The temperatures aren't supposed to climb much higher than freezing.  Everyone is bundled.  We have hand and toe warmers stuck to the inside of gloves and shoes.  They're just keeping things bearable for the extremities.  Barely.  A warm paper cone of frites holds us over around 11:00am, one of those burgers you can only find in Belgium handles the afternoon.  A thermos of tea fills in the rest.  Sorry, it's just too cold for beer.

The hill begins to fill up, and that's when the real characters make their appearance.  Wacky costumes, decked out old folks, fan club regalia, and OPQS gear dot the hill side.  Normally all of this would cause a double take, but today is Ronde day and this is perfectly normal.

For now we are anticipating the arrival of the women.  Of course, no one has any idea how that race is going.  Even if they were giving updates on the television and one spoke Dutch, the television still isn't working.  A picture blips in for 5 seconds at a time and then cuts out again.  TV guy has been MIA since earlier this morning.  Every few minutes someone approaches the giant TV with an air of intent, as if they know exactly what the problem is and know exactly how to fix it.  Then, they see all the wires, dishes, and unidentified boxes and turn away in defeat.  A few people ask a passing cop if he can do anything.  He laughs.

Just after 1:30pm the familiar song of the pace car wafts up from below the hill.  The women are on their way.  In a split second we're going to be the only people who know what is going on with their race.  The greatest cyclist alive is competing to win her first Ronde, and only some people waiting for another race will know if she has a chance.

The women's peloton is shattered.  The Vos group storms up the hill at breakneck speed, but it's a bit of a wait for the next group to make their appearance.  Then, there's another group.  A lone rider trickles in here and there.  Those of us who are there cheer them on.  Why no one seems to care about women's racing in which a phenomenon like Vos competes is beyond belief.  These women are incredible.  But, the real crowds don't begin to show up until the ladies are long gone.  Those of us that are interested won't find out the results of their race for hours.

We wait a little longer.  The barriers fill up, even those that line the deep ditch on the other side of the road.  Before we know it, the motor bikes and official cars come flying through.  Then, the breakaway group arrives, charging up the hill.  There's no telling if they will be leading the second time they come around.  From the pace they've set they seem to hope so.  The peloton, mostly together at this point, is not too far behind.  The crowd goes insane.  The guy standing next me insists on leaning over the barrier to slap every guy on the back that happens to ride by within reach.  After Thor Hushovd gets the slap, another fan decides enough is enough and decides to explain spectating etiquette to Mr. Slaps, loudly.  Mr. Slaps leaves.  No more riders will be manhandled from this section of the Paterberg.

With the passing of the ambulance, we know we have another wait ahead.  All eyes are back to the TV, which has finally been repaired by the missing tech.  It turns out all he had to do was change the channel.  The clear picture was received with a huge round of applause.

The second pass has a new set of leaders, in various states of exhaustion.  The following peloton is much more fragmented than before.  There's a major slow down at the summit that causes all the team cars to come to a standstill.  The stragglers are forced to pass in the tight spot between the cars and the barriers.  Down on this section of the hill, the fans give them space.  These guys don't need anymore obstacles.

We all watch on the television as the final stage of the race begins to unfold.  Cancellera pulls ahead on his own, but Sagan is hot on his tail.  He wants Spartacus to do all the work, the crafty black sheep of the peloton will sit on his wheel happy to take the tow.  But, before long local favorite Jurgen Roelandts begins to chase the duo and before long it becomes a trio.  Ladies and gentlemen, here is your podium.  All that's left is to find out in which order they'll stand.  The crowd swells as those that spent the majority of the race somewhere drinking beer begin to take serious interest and push their way to the barriers.  We can barely see through the forest of waving arms.

They reach the base of the Paterberg together.  They pass our spot together.  But, not much further up the hill a gap begins to form between Cancellera's back wheel and the front wheel of Sagan.  The gap grows.  A motorbike slips in between.  Try as they might, they can't reel Cancellera back in.

It's done.

The rest of the peloton, now left in several bits all over the hill, is nearly forgotten by the crowd.  Everyone is focused on the man on the big screen as he solos away to take his second victory of De Ronde.  Sagan is handed second place by a spent Roelandts, and later on he thinks he's entitled to be handed something else.  But, the crowd on the Paterberg doesn't care about about that.  They're thrilled for the man that won, to see the King of the Classics making a comeback.  Horns honk, bells ring, and hands clap.

Then, everyone's heading back down the hill.  It seems only seconds for the once packed fields to be emptied.  The interviews play on the screen without an audience.  Those of us lagging behind finally find out the results of the women's race.  They couldn't be better.

It's time for us to leave now.  They're already tearing down the barriers, wrapping up cables, and disassembling signs.  The hill is almost empty, covered in discarded paper flags and plastic cups.

The Paterberg will go back to relative anonymity, except to those wanting to experience the course for themselves on their bikes throughout the year.  The only thing that hints at the glory of this climb are the little signs pointing the way for the De Ronde cycle route.  The Eddy Merckx route passes this way too.

As for us, it's been ten hours and a hot shower and a hot drink are in order.  But, despite our frozen fingers and toes we wouldn't have traded those ten hours for anything.  The Ronde is a race like no other.  It's not the Tour.  Flanders is a special place and the Ronde is a special race.  It's part of the identity of the country, it's a symbol of a cycling mad land.  The fans with their 10:00am beer and curry ketchup burgers are something else.  Their antics make us love cycling even more; if that were even possible.  Their passion for the local teams and riders is a beautiful thing.  Despite everything that cycling has been through, the drugs, the lies, and the fallen heros, the fans in Flanders still come out to hills like the Paterberg on Sundays in the Spring for the races.  They still lean over those barriers, they still analyze the ins and outs of the route, they still don their replica jerseys and wave their flags.

Spend tens hours on hill in Flanders during the Ronde and you will learn what we learned.  Cycling is still very much alive in these parts and it's not leaving anytime soon.  That, in my opinion, is pretty darn inspiring.


View from the Hill from CG Inlux on Vimeo.

Revving Up for The Ronde: A Brief Stop in Oudenaarde

It's about 25 days until one of the biggest races on the Spring calendar, the Ronde van Vlaanderen, the Tour of Flanders.  Of course, we have a few races going on between now and then; Paris-Nice, Tirreno Adriatico, and the Volta Ciclista a Catalunya are just a few of the major contests in March.  But, in Oudenaarde, Belgium all thoughts are fixed on the Ronde.  The promo flags are up on lamp posts around the town center and the roads are positively cluttered with weekend warriors testing their mettle on cobbles and climbs.  

The region's fondness for Tom Boonen is highlighted
throughout the museum.

Last Sunday, my husband and I made the three hour drive up to this cycling Mecca to get a flavor for the scene.  There wasn't time for a ride, with half the day spent getting there and back, but we had plenty to do to make up for it.  Oudenaarde is also home to the Centrum Ronde van Vlaanderen, the museum dedicated to this epic cobbled classic. Curated by the great Freddy Maertens, it is must for any fan of Belgian cycling and this particular race.  

Your visit, which will cost 8€ per person, begins with a 13 minute film showing footage from Rondes of the past, highlighting the cobbled sections, the most successful riders (especially if they're Belgian), and some of the carnage.  Afterwards, the doors open into the exhibit space which provides everything you could possibly want to know about the history of this race and Belgian cycling.  Alas, most of the information is only in Dutch, but you will find a bit here and there translated to French and a little in English.  Upon admission you will receive a brief English synopsis of the museum if you desire.  It doesn't really matter, because most items are self-explanatory.  There are several opportunities for children and adults to play games and "test ride" some cobbles.  You can test your knowledge of the Ronde with a 84 question quiz.  I'm afraid my performance was abysmal.  The major climbs are broken down into in-depth descriptions, the history of nutrition in professional cycling is explained, and artifacts from riders, teams, and the media are everywhere.  A fair amount of money went into this museum and it shows.  You can finish your visit with a picture on the podium with Tom Boonen, if desired.  All in all, I thought the museum was excellent.  I would have liked a little more English in some places, but it is a museum in Flanders, after all.  The only thing I found to be a bit odd was the explanation of why men make better bike racers than women.  In my opinion comparing the physical performance of men vs. women has a taste of backward ignorance, but that could just be my inner feminist coming out... 

Anyway, exiting the museum takes you right into the gift shop.  It took all my willpower not to blow hundreds on the unique clothing and gifts for sale.  Cycling beer, jewelry, books, games, water bottles, champagne, t-shirts, lycra jerseys, wool jerseys, and stacks of caps are just a handful of things you can pick up.  My personal favorite were the cobblestone candles.  You do not have to visit the museum to visit the shop, so if you're a fan of cycling and you happen to be near Oudenaarde, I highly recommend taking the time to swing through.  I'm certain there's something for everyone in there.

Freddy Maertens (right) explains the significance of an old
crescent wrench he's brought with him to the bar.

After depositing your packages, you can complete your visit by stopping at the attached Brasserie for a beverage or simple meal.  The Brasserie is full of cycling memorabilia from floor to ceiling.  Photos not just of the Ronde but also Le Tour cover the walls.  Bicycles hang from the ceiling and jerseys and bottles decorate the bar.  The menu is simple, but if you happen to visit this time of year I recommend the "Queens Snack," a chicken dish that satisfies on a blustery day whether you've been out for a ride or not.  The house beer is also worth a try.  Beware though, the Brassarie, especially on the weekend will be crowded, mostly with cyclists who have been rolling around this famous region.  If you're lucky, though, you may come across the museum's curator, hanging out at the bar, chatting with patrons, or explaining the history behind some artifact in his hand.  On Sunday it was a wrench so and so used during Paris-Roubaix.   

After we completed our visit of the Centrum Ronde van Vlaanderen, we decided to do a crash tour of the highlights of the Ronde itself.  Not far out of Oudenaarde lie the famous cobbled climbs that have determined the results of this monument for decades- the Paterberg, Koppenberg, Oude Kwaremont, and others are all within about a 15min drive of the town center. While touring by car isn't the preferred method, of course, it's still the fastest way to visit these brutal rocks when you're on a time crunch.  Keep in mind though, these spots attract cyclists like moths to flame, so drive careful.  On Sunday, the Koppenberg seemed to be on a pilgrimage path and was jam packed with pedestrians.  We never did find out what the attraction was.  While that stopped us from driving up, it didn't stop some cyclists from tackling the grade.  All of them made it up without a problem.  I desperately wanted to cheer.

As we returned down to the car, thinking of all the legends that struggled up this nondescript farm road, I looked down and noticed every mud filled crack between the stones bore the impression of bicycle tires.  That's something.

The hallowed stones of the Koppenberg

I don't know about you, but I can't wait for Easter Sunday.

Omloop: As Seen from the Sidelines

It's 9:00am.

They say it's 20 degrees Fahrenheit, but it feels like 15, maybe 12 in the wind. The sun is at that low spot on the horizon, shining down the eastern roadways and highlighting all the imperfections of the old city.   The sky is perfectly clear, making it that much colder. The shops are just starting to open, but there's no rush.  A man that looks like a high school basketball coach in sweats with a bunch of keys hanging on a lanyard round his neck is cleaning off the sidewalk in front of his corner grocery store.  He dumps a bucket of grey, soapy water out in the street and watches it flow downhill along the curb for a few seconds before ducking inside to the shelves of produce, bags of snacks, and cigarrettes.  The bakery truck is open and ready for business at the entrance to the pedestrian zone.  Hot, sticky pastries glisten under the lamp light and a hint of steam rises from the fresh loaves of bread.  The baker has her scarf wrapped around her face at least three times so you can only see her eyes.  She rocks back and forth on her heels as she waits for the coming Saturday morning customers who are, no doubt, debating on leaving the warm comfort of their flats for a loaf of bread.

We're walking.  No time to pause at shop windows or buy bread.

A few blocks from the Square, a familiar beat meets the ears.  Gangnam Style.  Of course.  You can always count on the sublime randomness of the music in Benelux.  Metallica followed by Sir Mixalot followed by Garth Brooks followed by some forgotten creation of the disco era.  We pass another nondescript grey street and enter the wide openness of Sint-Pietersplein Square.  Well, it has a sense of wide openness.  Today it is full of barriers, stages, tents, buses, cars, some contraption demonstrating seatbelt safety, and a whole lotta people.  We have to stop for a second.  Team Sky is driving through, a short train of black cars and vans with the synonymous blue stripe.  No matter how they perform this season, there will be little debate about their status as the sexiest, most expensively dressed team in the peloton.

Maneuvering through the barriers and the crowds, we're in the proper heart of the action now.  The stage is set for the sign in and the members of the press have staked their claim in the inner sanctum to take the necessary yet redundant pictures of bundled cyclists signing their names and answering the same old questions.  The hoity toits in their furs and bespoke suits wait in line for the VIP tent to open, looking just as cold as the baker back on Koestraat.  The rest of us, the regular people, the fans, mill about the village.  This is the time to check out the equipment the teams will be using today.  The frames, the tires, the rims, the saddles, the cranks.  What are they going to tackle those cobbles of the Haaghoek with?  The riders, well, they're locked away in the buses, shades drawn over the big windows in the front, shutting out the fans, and the noise, and the weird world of the hospitality village.  Just a couple hours until it starts, a couple hours for a nap, a read, some peace.

There's no peace in the village.  Children run all over clutching notebooks for autographs, the promotional "hands" from Het Neuwsblad, and sausages.  There's a green cargo bike somewhere filled to the brim with packaged, fatty sausages being handed out by tall blondes.  Odd, but popular, judging by the amount of mouths chomping down.  Though, they could just be going there for the blondes and getting the sausages as an after thought.

There's a booth from Lidl grocery raffling off a Merckx road bike, among other things.  You win the bike, or whatever, and you get your picture taken with some podium girls to the cheers and jeers of passersby.  Only at a bike race.  Other booths sell team swag.  BMC puts on a popular display, handing out team cards and selling off jerseys and bidons.  The next booth, the one that's at every race, sells something from everyone.  Omega-Pharma Quickstep, of course, is the most popular choice.  This is Tom Boonen country, people.  Even if the King of the Cobbles isn't in form yet, he's still the favorite, as is the rest of the OPQS crew.  Crowds gather round buses and team cars as race time ticks closer and closer.  They sip from paper cups and chew packaged sausage or hamburgers with ketchup.

Maybe some lucky fan can catch a glimpse of their favorite or even talk to them if they hold out here a little longer.  Some guys are already signing in up at the stage, riding their way through the crowd, like so many of the lycra clad fans.  You can only tell them by their physiques and the race numbers pinned to their backs and behind their saddles. As start time rapidly approaches, more recognizable faces begin to appear.  Flecha, the Spaniard, gets a big cheer.  So, of course, does Jurgen Roelandts, today's captain of Lotto Belisol.  General apathy greets everyone else it seems, a few claps for Phinney, Hushvold, and Boasson Hagen.  The crowd is losing interest.  Boonen hasn't shown yet.  Ten minutes to start time and the barriers have already filled up.  There's no hope for the short folks.  No shoulders we can climb on.  We'll just catch a glimpse between elbows and hope for the best.  Oh to be a tall guy on race day!

Fevered clapping signals the start as we see cars and motorbikes speed by between gaps in winter coats and OPQS stocking caps.  Then, the bunch rolls past, a surprisingly fast moving clump of color and light, accompanied by the sounds of ticking free wheels, clicking cleats, and zipping zippers.  The crowd shouts in unison various calls of encouragement.  Something in Dutch we don't know.

That's it.  The end.  The guys are off for hours of brutal riding in the cold and over unrelenting cobbles.  Us? We're off to a cafe for a coffee and some lunch.

2:30pm

It's so much colder now.  The sun is long gone and occasionally a flake of snow drifts past as we walk back into the square.  The sidewalks were much more congested on the way here as the Saturday shopping was in full swing.  The crowds have thinned in the Square, well, sort of.  There's a clump gathered at the barriers watching Sporza's coverage on the big screen.  There's a good sized break ahead of the bunch and there's been some crashes.  Only one abandon.  The announcer keeps the village in the know, at least the Dutch speaking ones.  Something is going on with the women's race, but except for a name here and there, we're clueless as to what.  We're camping out on the barriers.  There's nothing the village can offer now.

The women fly by out of no where, a massive sprint from the break.  It was so fast and so unexpected, we're not sure what happened.  Only the sudden pounding on the barriers from the handful of fans around us signal that something is going down.  Shame we're in the dark for everything except the final sprint, but we're happy to hear an American came in second.  There's nothing wrong with a little hometeam pride.  The women will come rolling in groups here and there for awhile afterwards.  It must have been a touch brutal out there.

Now, we wait.  The crowds leave but over the next hour begin to drift back.   A guy with a long lens shows up next to us with his wife and kids.  He forgot his gloves and as time passes, switches the Het Neuwsbland hand back and forth from his left to his right hand.  He's shivering so much, the barrier we're leaning against is shaking.  The Flemish fans are passing out the proverbial paper yellow and black flags.  We stamp our feet.  Before long, we won't be able to feel them. We'll hold here though, don't want to be in the back this time.  We'll just bide our time watching the big screen.

Chavanel, dressed like an anonymous ninja, pulls off ahead for a bit, to the excitement of those around us.  Maybe he'll a pull solo win a la Boonen?  No.  Eventually, he's back with the break of 10 guys.  Photographers and news cameras big showing up.  "Hi, Mom! I'm on CyclingTv!"  Next, the Belgian Vandenbergh pulls ahead, with the much smaller Italian Paolini grabbing his wheel.  We can't understand the fast talking announcer and it takes a bit to figure out who Vandenbergh is.  He's not on the roster, a last minute change.  The fans get excited again to see another OPQS guy making a go.  Maybe he can pull it off?  Maybe he's trying to set things up for attempt No. 2 by Chavanel?  Only a few minutes left.  We know it as the distance ticker disappears from the coverage.  The crowd leans expectantly over and cranes their necks.  Children mimic their parents and beat, albiet early, on the barriers.  Everyone waits with baited breath.  The pulse quickens.  The group isn't going to catch Vandenbergh and Paolini.  They could have, but they let the distance get too great.  The race is going to come down to a sprint between these two.

Seconds left.

Seconds.

Boom!  The motor bikes, the cars come flying past.  The pounding on the barriers fills the air.  The yelling!  The announcer is yelling with them.  Vandenbergh and Paolini are there and then they're gone!  Vandenbergh didn't have a chance in the end to take the sprint from the the diminutive Italian of Katusha.  We can see the victorious upraised red and white arms above the roofs of the following cars.

Moments later, the second group sprints past. A race for third.  Who is that?  No idea.  Some guy from Topsort with a really long name.  The podium is three guys no one expected.  That's beautiful.  Everyone is still waiting on the rest of the peloton, but we're going to head out to the stage now.  There's not going to be much action from that final group.

On the way to the stage, we're stopped by someone in a OPQS jersey over a T-Shirt.  "Excuse me, do you know who came in second?  Chavanel?" they ask in English with a heavy accent.

"No, not Chavanel.  I didn't catch his name, though.  He's not on my roster."

"Oh.  But, he's Belgian, yes?"

"Yes."

A nod of approval.  As long as he's Belgian.

Except for the press, there are few people near the stage.  There's a small group of young women all decked out in their finest.  Guess we'll stand by them.  They're just on the right side of the press, who are all extremely and inconveniently tall.  The rest of the peloton blows by through the crowd in a bunch sprint for their various warm buses.  We don't blame them.  It is horrendously cold.

It isn't long before the local bigwigs are introduced to the stage.  The podium girls take their places, hard women in their sleeveless dresses.  After the precursory thanks to the bigwigs, we are introduced to the third place rider.  Still no idea who he is.  That last name is a jawbreaker.  Sven... Something.  We'll just call him Sven.  Next, Vandenbergh, visibly crushed by his result.  If only he had been tailed by someone larger, or slower, or more tired.  He smiles halfheartedly at BigWig No.1 when he gets his champagne.  He examines the vintage with much interest.  What are they passing out to second place these days?  A kiss from the blonde podium girl.  Whatever.  It's hard to be thrilled.  That race could have been his.  He looks this way and flashes a smile, blows a kiss.  Huh... ok then.  Next up, Paolini climbs the first place block to receive his kisses, trophy, champagne and bouquet.  He's quite pleased with himself.  As he should be.  He was no where near the list of names pegged for a win today.  None of them were.

They shake their champagne and spray the crowd, take a swig, and stand for one last picture.  Before  heading off to doping control and various destinations, Vandenbergh turns one last time this way and waves.  The connection suddenly makes sense as he tosses the bouquet towards us.  We've been standing next to his girl, the only thing that could get a smile out of him.

As for us, we follow Paolini and his police and UCI escorts out of the square as we head back to the town center.  We are in desperate need of more coffee and a warm place.  We'll take some time to write a few things down and go through the photos and toss out the duds.  The first race of the Cobbled Classics has come and gone, almost as fast as that two man sprint.

It's time to get warm, discuss the results and prepare for tomorrow's showdown out of Kuurne.  Well, they're making noise about some snow.  That's ok, we brought hand and foot warmers for tomorrow.  It's another day to wait, laugh, wait some more, cheer, scramble, and stay warm.  Another day to see some history.

Maybe.

More photos  from Omloop  are available at Flickr.

Short Video available on Vimeo.