Yesterday I hit rock bottom. Reaching the end of my physical abilities and testing the strength of the team in a way only
stage races can.
Let me take this from the beginning: Thirty degree heat, a moderately easy day of 66 kilometres, 1,600m ascent
but with all serious climbs crammed in the last 15k or so. This time we had to start from C-box, Johan’s friends were in
B, although we beat them the day before. One of the luxuries of them travelling in masters class.
I decided to push hard and it took us around 5 kilometres to catch up with them. I planned to suck some wheels but Johan
decided to push on. I followed because I am superhuman. At this point I officially decided that training is overrated and
so is a low body fat percentage when it comes to climbing.
All went well until we hit the last tough climbs. I had been sweating all day and from one pedal stroke to the other
I felt weak, the pedals would only go in squares. I ended up walking up hills that everyone around me was riding, was
begging my team mate for his last water and barely made it to the finish line. God knows why Johan decided to ride at my snail
pace, but that just proves how good of a coach and team mate he is.
This morning I still felt tired and thirsty. I knew immediately that the long night in bed did not do any wonders. Today’s
stage was different from yesterday: two long climbs in the beginning, combining 1,300 of the 2,000 meters in this day. We did
them both in silence because I was digging deep, although still surrounded by people that I should normally be ahead of.
The weather was still hot and humid, so I told myself to finish my drink bottles before every feed station, taking two
new ones for the road and one to gulp and leave behind. I definitely did not enjoy walking up a million medieval steps
to an old castle, but I guess it looks beautiful in pictures. After grinding up the mountains I started to feel a bit
better and could keep some kind of a pace. We were with two of Johan’s friends by this time that had suffered a flat and
we rode together through a fast and slightly downhill stretch until disaster struck.
Johan was stung by a bee. I had the same luck a day before leaving to Trans Schwarzwald and although it was painful, it was
not unbearable so I did no expect any problems. We pushed on, Johan was happy to take the lead in our little peloton and we travelled at 42km/h for a good
fifteen minutes (I took two turns at leading the group for twenty seconds or so, my buddies did all the work). After one
of my leads I suddenly noticed that Johan was at the back of the group. Mind you that he has been like a bear in a cage
riding with me for the last three days. His arms and legs were swollen, it looked like he had hundreds of mosquito bites.
His heart rate was through the roof while cruising downhills, he could not hold his handlebars anymore and it slowed him down to
almost my pace. I was paying the toll for the fast section through the valley. Downing my ninth or tenth waterbottle
did not bring a solution. We almost came to a stand still. For serious Stage racers there is a point where you know you are
in trouble. We hit that point: people with camelbaks were passing us left right and center.
We barely made it to the finish line (Johan did an amazing 40km with swollen arms and legs) and went straight to the
medical tent. The doctors shot three bottles of fluids in his veins and added enough injections to keep a Tour de France peloton
circa 1998 happy.
Although it was again a hard day for mind and body and the time on the bike is not always a pleasure, still I have to repeat that mtb stage
racing is one of the best things on the planet. Even if the riding sucks, there is always that glorious moment of crossing
the finish line and leaning your bike into a fountain before you head to the food stand. If the race result does not bring
the joy, then other things will. My highlight today was buying a take away pizza with my friend Steven and eating it in
the shade after being fed with cheap and horrible pasta for the few last nights. I can tell you that cycling around town
with that pizza box turned more biker’s heads than a mountain bike with 31 inch wheels and electronic shifting would have.