10th in Herenhout

Heading north into the Limburg, it’s almost a given that the race will be a stereotypical Belgian affair - flat and fast. In fact, I could have easily written this blog before the race had even started: a large field, a fast average speed, and a stunningly boring parcours. It’s possible even triathletes could have successfully negotiated their way around without crashing. Well, perhaps. One hundred and thirty six riders signed on for another 6pm start to face a 110 kilometre cadence work out.

Predictably the early pace was high, as riders constantly pinged off the front in futile attempts to break clear, and although a few gaps were opened, there was never any danger of moves going clear, the pace in peloton sitting over 45kph. With very little wind, and an easy going circuit, I decided the best option was to sit in, save my energy, and get some well needed speed back into the legs.

As often happened last year in these types of races, a winning move goes clear within the final lap as riders start to look at each other and save themselves for the bunch sprint. 130up gallops to the line not exactly being my forte, this was exactly my plan – to wait until the final lap and try to jump clear from there.

In all honesty, nothing really happened until then and so as we hit the bell lap it was now or never for my planned and sole attack of the race. Spurred on by some true classics of Belgian radio - ‘Busteds’ moronic expedition to the year 3000 sickeningly stuck in my head - I went clear with 8 similarly minded riders, and battled on toward the line, holding a slight but definite gap over the charging peloton.

However, with 500metres to go the gap was shut and a bunch sprint was on to decide the winner, with the fast moving, and fellow Brit, Dan McLay taking another victory, while I rolled in to round out the top ten.

I’ll take that result. These fast, flat races are not my type of terrain, but I raced with my head, stuck to my plan and it very nearly paid off. That’s it on the racing front for a bit, as I head off to the Alps on Friday morning for a week of pain and suffering in the stunning mountain passes. Back to racing on the 17^th once I’ve killed all the speed from my legs and over-trained myself into the ground.

On a side note, consuming copious amounts of caffeine in evening races is useful during the event but not especially conducive to a good nights sleep after, hence the lateness of this blog appearing. I'd like to also suggest here, that anyone who voluntarily listens to Busted or equivalent needs to be shot. And their family. And friends if they have any. Get out of my head, and let me sleep.