Chipseal, Cobbles, and Pedals

Kieren and Yolandi confronted me last night about my riding.  “Melissa, I think you are afraid of the corners,” said Yolandi.  “I noticed when you were riding in the Ardennes with Helen and I that you would always fall back, especially the descents too.”  Keiren had asked me about the crit, and I had given him the ‘thumbs-down’ sign. 

The criterium was in a town only 30Ks away.  The streets were packed with spectators and riders, and there were many balconies full of people, viewing from above.  People were drinking beer and eating frites.  Nearby, a band played onstage. I would suspect a good 100 riders were in our field, and all the strong girls had returned from their tours.  I arrived to the race with Yolandi’s Belgian teammate, Kim.  Her team was there, and they kindly took care of my bike and even offered me a pre-race massage!  I hurried over to the start line, to get myself a position in the front, but just my luck, all the racers came piling in the front and soon I found myself at the back. 

The start was fast, and soon I was wishing I’d warmed-up for the race. Almost immediately, the field was strung out and it became nearly impossible to move-up.  Quickly we turned right off the main drag into a residential area, onto a curb, over some speed bumps and wound around the narrow roads, braking, turning, and putting the pedal down to get back up to the speed of the front group.  The sun was beating down on us and I could feel the hot pressure building inside my skull.  “Move-up, move-up,” I yelled at myself, but found fatigue building early into the race. My hopes of getting to the front dissipated into the air.

I was dropped with a small group of ladies as we all struggled to grab a wheel.  Soon, my small group broke apart and I became a solo rider, trying to chase down the peleton.  After 30 minutes of chasing, the official waved the flag, and I was cut from the race and very disappointed about the results.

                                                    The winners.

Later that night, I replied to Yolandi’s remark about my hesitation on the corners, “I am scared of the turns, and descending.  I’m afraid to trust the wheel in front of me, afraid to trust that my bike will stay upright when I go over the curb.  I was good at crits in the States, but we had wide roads and they aren’t so technical and fast.”  Kieren chirped in; once more sharing his Irish wisdom, “Melissa, we’ve seen a lot of girls with the same problem.  You just have to overcome it.  You are a cyclist.  You will crash because you know, you are sitting on something with only two wheels, and if you stand it up on it’s own, it will tip over.  But many people crash, and they are usually able to finish the race.  They just stand up, dust off their scrapes, and get back onto the bike.” I smiled when he said this as suddenly it reminded me of something my dad would say. Kieren continued, “Just get over the fact you’re going to crash, because you will…and be aggressive!”

As I was finishing the last 10 seconds of my 20 minute interval yesterday afternoon, I felt a stinging sensation on my chest.  Completely irritated, I began slapping myself and pulling at my jersey as the sensation intensified.  Finally, the interval was up and I peered down my shirt, just spotting a small, fuzzy, yellow thing. I assumed this to be pollen and my skin must be extra sensitive, so again I tried swatting and digging it out of there. It kept stinging. Once more I peered down my shirt, this time with a better view, and what I saw was not pollen, but a dead bee!  I’d been stung in the breast by a bee!  Frantically, I tried swatting it out of there, as I was a little shaken by the idea of a bee resting in my bra. This was my first bee sting, so I didn’t know how I’d react, but luckily I was close to the house. I checked it out and you could barely tell I’d been stung.  I determined the gender of the bee to be male, since it was so keen on peeping down my shirt! Such a male instinct.

Wednesday Helen, Yolandi, and I got in the car and drove about and hour or so south, to do some climbing in the Ardennes: http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&hl=en&geocode=&saddr=&daddr=50.127622,5.438232&mra=mi&mrsp=0&sz=7&sll=50.611132,5.394287&sspn=2.74698,5.614014&ie=UTF8&t=h&z=7. Since Belgium is pretty flat, I jumped at the opportunity.  We arrived in a cute little town, near the river and did a 3 hour loop from there.  Helen was familiar with the area, so she led the way. It rained about half-way into the ride, but the air was warm and humid, and the dense brush kept us fairly dry.  As usual, I spent most of the ride in deep thought over the people that were back home in America. 

                           Helen (England) and Yolandi (South Africa)

Being that I haven’t seen an American since I left the States, 3 weeks ago, I have felt like a foreigner, for the first time in my life. The last two times I’ve been in Europe, there was always a group of Americans that I was with, either for school, or as teammates.  This time, I am the only one, so I’ve been discovering some interesting habits that Americans have…at least from my part of the country.

                                  I spotted this castle! 

For instance, the other day we were all sitting outside, enjoying the sun and Kieren, an Irishman looked at my Nalgene, full of water and said with a puzzled look, “What’s the deal with carrying liquid in a huge plastic container?”  The other girls, from the UK and New Zealand turned and looked too, all with puzzled expressions.  “Really?!”  I said.  “My Nalgene?  These are so popular back home!  Everyone carries one to class, and some even put little carribeaners on them so they can be hooked to something.”  Everyone just burst out laughing!  “Can I put alcohol in there and pretend it’s water?”  Kieren asked.  “Oh yea, they do that too, especially for American football games!”  Anyhow, by the end of the discussion, I hadn’t convinced a soul that they too should join this ‘cool’ American fad!

                             This is the town we started our ride from.  Very cute…I think I’d like to take a vacation here with Aaron some day.

Another interesting thing I’ve experienced as a foreigner is the many differences in the English language!  So far I have been asked several times, “And what do you call this?” And they would giggle after my response, at how funny I sounded to them.  A jacket is a ‘jumper’, sandals are ‘jankles’, candy is ‘lollies’, a brake lever is a ‘leever’. I think my response time during conversations has been a bit slow, as I’ve tried to figure out what they’ve been talking about!  I am getting much better as I’m learning their vocabulary, but I still use my American terminology when conversing!

One more difference that I’ve noticed is the way in which the dishes are washed.  I know this sounds quite funny, but I have noticed that I am the only person, out of Kiwi’s, the girls from the UK, South Africa, Australia, and Belgium to rinse the dishes after they’ve been washed in the soapy water! I’ve never met an American who didn’t rinse them.  I was always taught that this was important because we didn’t want to ingest any soap, but I haven’t met a person here besides myself who rinses!  How much water do we waste rinsing dishes?  Probably too much.  Anyhow, they usually put water in the sink, clean off the gunk from the dishes, drain the water and put in clean soapy water and wash and put the dish in the drying rack.  Simple as that, but hard for me to grasp as I was brought-up believing that any soap ingestion would kill me.   It’s funny to discover that your ‘ways’ are actually rather odd compared to the rest of the world, even when it comes to washing dishes.

Last night I got an email from my friend Kimberly, back in Laramie.  She had figured out how to navigate the Dutch website: www.sterze.nland found pictures of me at the race.  Frankly, I find this quite impressive as I was first listed as Milisse Doherly from the Netherlands, and I’ve got a new bike, kit, and the whole works.  I don’t think I could have picked myself out of a picture of the peleton!

                                    My time trial at the Ster.

  Got the ‘game face’ on.  Me after ‘sign-in’ for Friday’s evening road race.

                                                         I’m front on the left…have a look of pain on my face

I crossed the finish line, and what Aaron likes to call “woman emotions”, they suddenly overwhelmed me and I started to well up with tears.  But before I could cry, I realized that I wasn’t breathing and couldn’t breath, so frantically I grabbed my inhaler out of my jersey pocket, which rarely I have with me, and soon my lungs opened up. I stood not far from the finish, a little dizzy as my mind had become mush, yet I was emotionally happy about finishing.  I found the team but couldn’t talk for at least 10 minutes.  In the mean time, my stomach muscles cramped up and I’ll just say that they put me in the van with some water and I got a lift back to the house.

                                      Road off to far left is the last 2K’s of 7K time trial on Friday.  I was a bit sloppy as I hadn’t done a time trial with so many turns, round-abouts, and brick roads!

Somehow before the race, the perfect racing song popped into my head, and I mentally decided that I was going to finish the race.  It was the most work I’ve ever done, most pain that I’ve ever endured, that I swear I went cross-eyed in the process!  This weekend I was riding with a Dutch Team called Red Sun.  All the girls were very nice and spoke perfect English.  Despite the physical pain of racing, I too enjoyed a little taste of Dutch culture.

                                   Starting area for Saturday’s race in Holland.

Early on in the race, there was a crash that took up the road.  Girls were scrambling through the tall grass on the sides to get around.  On both sides of the road were deep irrigation ditches, full of muddy water.  The girl right next to me suddenly slipped on the grass and went PLOP, right on her back into the ditch!  It was kind of funny at the time, especially since that could have been me!  Later, I heard that her teammate went to help pull her out and she too fell in!  She was still able to catch back onto the peleton and finish with the bunch. Tough girl.

For the most part, the race was very fast, never easing up, but  I tucked inside about the front third of the peleton and moved up close to the front.  There were several sections of cobbles, but they weren’t as rough as the Belgian cobbles. I focused on moving up and staying protected from the fierce winds.  Several of my teammates were nearby and that was encouraging too.  Until the last quarter of the race, my positioning was pretty good.  Then I was almost blown-up holding onto wheels and I’d lose the wheel in front of me, creating a gap and the girls behind would curse at me and pull in front and I’d grab their wheel.  We’d get so strung out and it was so windy, just like Laramie! 

We climbed up this wide road and suddenly the peleton slowed, so I looked around and realized we were on the dyke!  The ocean was to the right, and Holland below on the left.  It was a powerful feeling, realizing this road protected the country below.  The winds coming from the ocean were very fierce and I had become cross-eyed from fatigue.  I couldn’t wait for the finish to come, for I was hanging on for dear life!  I’d scream at myself to “Hold that wheel…you’re going to finish!” We weaved in and out, around the round abouts and I was able to move up.  The finish came and I was so relieved.  I stood up to sprint, but my legs felt like jello.  I was so happy.  I finally finished, the fastest race of my life!

                                                    Me enjoying the view of the coast after Friday’s time trial.

                                        My very sinful moment in Belgium.

Finally, I found a small shop and while the girls were buying their ice cream cones, I looked around and spotted exactly what I wanted.  When it was my turn, I asked for it, and the woman behind the counter went into another room for a few minutes, and finally came out with a piping hot waffle, fresh from the iron and wrapped up in but a few sheets of paper.  Eagerly I took it, and while the girls were enjoying their ice cream, I took a bike of my Belgium waffle and alias, it was warm, soft, and sweet.  So delicious it was sinful!  The mouth watering experience was nothing like I’d ever imagined.

                           Louise from Australia and Mariana from New Zealand                            

Being that it was our first trip out of the house, outside of racing, all the girls were looking forward to our little outing.  We all piled into Gabby’s tiny car, she’d driven over from the UK, and took a little drive to one of the larger towns nearby.  We parked in the center and walked around, mostly window shopping at the stores.  The waffle was my purchase for the day, but we had a good time walking the cobbles and trying on fashionable outfits.  People on their bikes whizzed by, some pulling little children, other’s wearing high heels; a country full of people riding bikes! 

 Elaine from Scotland

After we returned to the house, I was busy washing some dishes when I looked outside to see an older man, busy mowing the grass.  The grass had reached it’s limit, nearly over a foot tall, and lately everyone had been complaining that it needed cut.  The neighbor, over the fence had overheard the complaints, so he carried his mower over in his wheelbarrow, and took care of the grass!  Upon arriving, he also gave us two dozen eggs, fresh from his hens.  We were so thankful for his help, but all we had to give him in return, was a cold beer from the fridge. He gladly accepted and requested a bottle opener so he could immediately enjoy his refreshment.  I sat outside with Mariana as we chatted with the man.  Mariana had to translate, because I didn’t understand a word he said. He spoke in a mixture of English and Dutch, but his English must have been closer to the Kiwi version for Mariana to pick up. Anyhow, he owns several racing pigeons that we usually see flying in and out of the loft across the way.  He told Mariana and I that he wanted to give a few racing pigeons for us to eat, so we’d race faster!  He talked about the world cup soccer tournament, then finished his beer and wheeled the mower back home.

I am still dreaming of chocolate.  I have been in Belgium for a few days, but haven’t had any chocolate.  At the airport along the way, I felt raped as Ryan Air only allowed a small amount of weight between two bags, so I was hit with a huge fine of 75 Euros!  Chris had paid extra for the tickets to allow my second bag, but this is how these airlines make money.  They suck in clientele with cheap tickets, and then slap them with baggage fines!  Thus, my chocolate will have to wait awhile until the hole in my pocket is repaired. Since then, I’ve gotten some waffles from the grocery store, and enjoyed a beer from the cooler, last night, after the cobbled race.

In the meantime, I got in a ride on Wednesday with Elaine, from Scotland.  She has the thickest accent of the bunch, and the hardest to understand.  The UK girls, love to give her a hard time!  Anyhow, we found our way around, and luckily I am a great navigator and we didn’t get lost!  Thursday it poured all day.  I don’t know if it was the rain, but for some reason, I crashed onto my bed and slept all afternoon.  Friday we did a group ride in the morning, trying to avoid the rain clouds nearby.  One of the girls knew all the roads in the area, so our ride was quite pleasant.  We passed by an old castle, the architecture much different from that of France and Italy.  Saturday and Sunday were days filled with classic Belgium races; many corners, wet cobbles, and commuter-rail tracks! 

                                  June 14, 2008, Kamioenschap Van Vlaanderen – Belgium Cup Race: Start/Finish Area

I got 73rd our of 91 people.  I was cut with 6 laps to go.  I think from the gun I was a little tense, breathing too hard and not feeding myself properly, but I felt really strong.  The course made it hard to position; it got strung out and once you came to a turn, and was positioned on the inside, you almost had to stop. Thus you would get put to the back of the peleton.  There was a small hill on the course but painful enough to break up the race.  I got dropped here with 3 others, including Louise of Swift.  I was the strongest of the bunch at that moment, and was very determined to catch back on, so I took longer pulls to keep up the pace.  We were so close, and I had done a long pull and Louise pulled ahead to relieve me, the other two hung on, then I relieved Louise and she had enough energy conserved to pull away and get back onto the peleton. I was then useless to grab her wheel.  But at least I helped her out.  I continued chasing, the other two girls didn’t help much,  and really slowed the pace when they’d take a pull. One girl dropped out but the other girl stayed with me for two laps.  She took short pulls so I dropped her on the hill. But when I came across the line, they cut me.  I decided it was good TT practice:)  I wasn’t quite sure if I was cut, so I found a person who spoke English and asked what the black square on the flag meant!  I didn’t get upset, it was a good opener, very fast and I know if I would have been in better position, I wouldn’t have been dropped.  But I decided to try again the next day.  Truly, I needed the first race; a good kick in the pants and nice wake-up call to get my head back in the game.

                            Start/Finish area after the race.

Borgerhout - open omloop 

Sunday the drive was just under an hour to downtown Antwerp, where the course would consist of 13 (7K) laps. I felt that I had improved from the day before, in terms of my positioning.  From the beginning, I started second wheel back at the start line and was in the top 4 position from the gun.  I stayed in that position for about 2-3 laps (7k laps).  About half the course was cobbles,so this was the most technical course I’d ever done!  And that’s where I got sucked back, on the cobbles.  I was trying to go faster…I don’t know if I should have been in an easier gear, harder gear, but they were quite challenging!  Sometimes I could pass people and I’d pretend I was riding my fixed gear, but other times I really struggled.  I got caught behind a crash on a corner, so had to chase back on.  I motored it as hard as I could, but it wasn’t but a lap later that I fell off the back again.  I was alone this time so I got low into a time-trial mode.  I did about 2-3 laps by myself.  Then I decided that since I was dropped, I ought to get something out of this, so I thought I would focus on the cobbles.  While I was on my own, these little kids about 7-years old or so would get in the street, crouch low, and clap their hands and cheer for me like I was their big sister or something! That was pretty priceless.  Their cheers somehow made getting dropped not seem so bad at all.

                                         These are not the cobbles.  This is a smooth, paved, road.

I was caught by a group behind of 4 girls, and on that lap we were cut.  I was disappointed about that…but I’ve always heard of successful people in life, business, sports, ect, say that in order to be successful, you will first lose hundreds of times before you finally win. I reckon that it’s all for the better because maybe when you finally get that break, it is more fulfilling because you had to work so hard and get beaten down to get there.  Probably then, you won’t want to let it go either.  But, no matter how I finished, riding the cobbles for the first time was a priceless experience.

Here’s a copy of my race schedule for the summer.  Just keep in mind that things can come up with teams, and the schedule could change.  If anything does change, I will keep it updated.  As I find links to the race websites,  I will add them too. If you have any questions, always feel free to ask! 

14-15 June:  Just some elite races nearby…only 3 Euro’s to race! 

19-21 June : Rabo Ster Zeeuwsche Eilanden 2.2 (3 stages: TT, RR, RR)http://www.sterze.nl.

22 June: Some race in Tielt…starts at the end of our street!

-Races nearby this next weekend too.

10-13 July : Tour de Feminin – Krasna Lipa, Czech Republic 2.2 (5 stages in 4 days: RR, RR, TT RR, RR) (I will ride as a guest for another team) http://www.tourdefeminin.com.

24-27 July: Tour Feminin en Limousin(Montaubaun)

2-3 Aug: Charante (Montaubaun)

10 Aug: Holland Hills Classic 1.2

19-21 Aug: Albstadt-Frauen-Etappenrennen

or

22 Aug : Coupe de France (Montaubaun)

26-30 Aug: Trophee d’Or Feminin 2.2

2-7 Sept: Holland Ladies Tour

9-13 Sept: Tour Cycliste Feminin International Ardeche

* What do the numbers (1.2, 2.2) mean?  A race is ranked on it’s quality by the numbers.  The lower the number, 1.1, the faster the race. A 1.2 race will include many of the best teams, many that attend the world cups.  A 2.2 race will allow mixed teams to race.  A mixed team is a combination of riders from other teams…forming a team that is large enough to enter a race.

After spending the last four days as a female cycling hermit, I am finally packing my bags and flying north to Belgium, where I will begin my summer of EURO racing!  Upon my initial arrival in Limoux on Friday, everything was up in the air and I spent the weekend in anticipation of where and when I would go for my first race.  Chris had lent me a bike to use as I would get a bike from the team upon arrival in Belgium.

Alone in  the house where I had stayed, back in April, I took my time waking up every morning, eating, surfing the web, and then eventually getting out on my bike and exploring the endless roads of Southern France.

 Alias, as I headed out on my ride, I noticed the once stumpy vines had turned into a sea of green madness!

                                          The vines in April.

                                               Just little stumps poking from the ground.

                                   The vines in June, only 6 weeks later!

The narrow roads had shrunken as more foliage had engulfed the area.  I realized as I spent many hours of pondering, that I too would get to see nearly the entire cycle of the vines.  But maybe I was wrong.  Perhaps it isn’t just I who watches them grow from stumps to a harvested grape.  Concievably, it is the vine that watches me pedal by, day after day, observing my development too. What will they see when I return to France next month?  Will the vines have produced their fruit?

                                         A hermit’s haven!