BeMC Stage 3 – Randonneuring

Rachel’s takeStage 2 was tough, but we all knew stage 3 would be tougher. Taking in the same distance at around 100km, but with 500m more ascent. So I decided that for stage 3 I would just ride. No chasing down the wheel in front, no worrying about places, just riding. I chatted to the guys and girls around me and I stopped at the feed zones. I enjoyed the amazing scenery that we passed riding over to Houffalize and back. The first 50km passed in a whirr.

The second 50km was definitely tougher, taking in the majority of the climbing and some muddy, rooty singletrack that was slower to ride. Even taking it easier I was struggling towards the end. After wading through a river, walking several steep rocky climbs and scooting down loose dusty descents with my bum on my tyre I finally saw the 10km to go sign. Internally cheering (definitely no energy for actual whooping) I figured that we’d now just bash down the valley and be done. Not quite. Several more climbs later I came down the last descent having taken 6 hours 50 or so to ride the 100km. I can’t remember the last time I was so relieved to see a cold can of coke.

Interestingly, I pretty much finished in exactly the same position as the previous days despite having had a day as randonneur. Perhaps there is a lesson for us all there…

Thanks to the BeMC organisers for a really tough but very rewarding race. The Ardennes certainly lives up to its cycling reputation.

To echo Rachel’s sentiments, today was all about the grins for me. I spent the first two days trying to race the whole time, worrying about positions, gaps and power numbers, and as enjoyable as that can be, I felt like I had been missing out. So, I lined up a bit further back in the front master’s box, and kept repeating my mantra for the day “If it stops being fun, you’re doing it wrong!”. Luckily, the organisers had also saved the best until last, and the final day’s riding was nothing short of superb. So superb in fact, that I decided to “go in for a closer look” at one of the slidey, gravelly corners about 30km, and ended up using my knee and nose to stop. Undeterred, I got rid of most of the gravel in my mouth and pottered on to the next feed station to wash my wounds, much to the bemusement of the assembled forestry staff.