Cyclingnews Latest Blogs RSS

The longest week in cycling is finally drawing to a close, and it has been far more eventful than we would have liked here in the Sunweb camp. The nine stages of 'week one' have been a true rollercoaster.

Everything started well. Tom Dumoulin was off the mark on the opening time trial, but with a Grand Tour so back-loaded with brutal stages, it was widely agreed that coming in a bit fresh was the wise choice. At the very least we knew he would be in the mix with the GC favorites when the hard days arrived. The only question was whether Primoz Roglic could hang on to such superb form for three more weeks, and only time would provide that answer.

Our young team is on good form and was full of motivation in the first few road stages. We navigated them well and kept Tom out of trouble amid the chaotic sprint stages with the rain adding even more stress.

ADVERTISEMENT

The first 228 kilometers of stage 4 went exactly to plan. It was a tough day, but we still had the whole team there and were fighting to deliver Tom into the uphill drag in a good spot. Then came a frightful reminder that months of preparation can be left on the pavement along with a fair bit of skin and blood with a simple mistake by a single person. With just six kilometers remaining, Tom was involved in the huge pile-up. Our team had gotten split up after a series of corners but were fighting to get back together when it happened. I was on the left side of the road and did what I always do when bikes and bodies start flying: throw my weight back, slam on the brakes, steer towards open space, bounce off whoever I need to, and hope I don’t get hit from behind. I almost managed it, but just before I came to a stop I was sent tumbling upside-down into the drainage ditch next to the road.

My first reaction was that the impact really hadn’t been so bad. The ditch was overgrown, and the drop of a few feet had been cushioned by the branches and roots. I was completely turtled with my feet above my head and my bike sitting atop my tangle of limbs. "Tom crashed! Tom crashed!" came through my radio, but I was in no position to do anything about it. Just as I began to wonder if anyone knew I was down there, a Bora rider’s head appeared over the edge and I pushed my bike upward toward him. Next to appear was Koen Bouwman’s hand, which graciously pulled me to my feet again.

After arriving at the bus, I learned the extent of the damage to Tom’s knee and GC standings. To my eyes, the blood made the cuts to his knee appear worse than they were, but the way he struggled to bend his knee was alarming. After confirming there was nothing broken or torn, he resolved to get through the night as well as possible and give the next stage a try. The GC was gone, but perhaps he could salvage something from all the work he’d put into the arriving in Italy in top shape. We had a team meeting that night to motivate us all to shift our mentality to stage-hunting. They were unfortunate circumstances that provided it, but the opportunity to go for our own results would not be passed up.

You can read more at Cyclingnews.com

The longest week in cycling is finally drawing to a close, and it has been far more eventful than we would have liked here in the Sunweb camp. The nine stages of 'week one' have been a true rollercoaster.

Everything started well. Tom Dumoulin was off the mark on the opening time trial, but with a Grand Tour so back-loaded with brutal stages, it was widely agreed that coming in a bit fresh was the wise choice. At the very least we knew he would be in the mix with the GC favorites when the hard days arrived. The only question was whether Primoz Roglic could hang on to such superb form for three more weeks, and only time would provide that answer.

Our young team is on good form and was full of motivation in the first few road stages. We navigated them well and kept Tom out of trouble amid the chaotic sprint stages with the rain adding even more stress.

ADVERTISEMENT

The first 228 kilometers of stage 4 went exactly to plan. It was a tough day, but we still had the whole team there and were fighting to deliver Tom into the uphill drag in a good spot. Then came a frightful reminder that months of preparation can be left on the pavement along with a fair bit of skin and blood with a simple mistake by a single person. With just six kilometers remaining, Tom was involved in the huge pile-up. Our team had gotten split up after a series of corners but were fighting to get back together when it happened. I was on the left side of the road and did what I always do when bikes and bodies start flying: throw my weight back, slam on the brakes, steer towards open space, bounce off whoever I need to, and hope I don’t get hit from behind. I almost managed it, but just before I came to a stop I was sent tumbling upside-down into the drainage ditch next to the road.

My first reaction was that the impact really hadn’t been so bad. The ditch was overgrown, and the drop of a few feet had been cushioned by the branches and roots. I was completely turtled with my feet above my head and my bike sitting atop my tangle of limbs. "Tom crashed! Tom crashed!" came through my radio, but I was in no position to do anything about it. Just as I began to wonder if anyone knew I was down there, a Bora rider’s head appeared over the edge and I pushed my bike upward toward him. Next to appear was Koen Bouwman’s hand, which graciously pulled me to my feet again.

After arriving at the bus, I learned the extent of the damage to Tom’s knee and GC standings. To my eyes, the blood made the cuts to his knee appear worse than they were, but the way he struggled to bend his knee was alarming. After confirming there was nothing broken or torn, he resolved to get through the night as well as possible and give the next stage a try. The GC was gone, but perhaps he could salvage something from all the work he’d put into the arriving in Italy in top shape. We had a team meeting that night to motivate us all to shift our mentality to stage-hunting. They were unfortunate circumstances that provided it, but the opportunity to go for our own results would not be passed up.

You can read more at Cyclingnews.com

My eyelids are sticky."

"…what?"

"I guess it's from all the sunscreen and sweat, but I feel it every time I blink."

ADVERTISEMENT

Those were the first words we'd spoken in half an hour. Twenty kilometers earlier, Tom Dumoulin and I had been at sea level. Now we were pushing past 6,000 feet of elevation, well into the sixth hour of a ride front and back-loaded with intervals, a bit dehydrated and riding more on willpower than carbohydrates. We chugged onward, neither of us willing to surrender the half-wheel battle as we pulled ourselves lower into the headwind, riding that razor's edge of bonking, and unaware of the scenery around us as we climbed through lava fields on Tenerife. The interminable slog to the point at which we could finally coast back to the hotel never seemed to get closer, and we suffered in silence, except for the odd observation about sticky eyelids.

In the course of our training camp on that volcano we would have conversations about how we must trust the process. We have to suffer alone on a volcano, wondering how our bodies will somehow absorb the training and be excellent in just a month's time at the Giro d'Italia. It's dangerous to overthink it and train too hard, too often. Trust the process, do the training, and believe that it will work.

——

You can read more at Cyclingnews.com

Tour of Flanders is one of those races where it still means something if you finish. The tiniest country roads, the unforgiving rough and stupidly steep cobbles, the blood sport fight to position yourself before the climbs, and don't forget the weather if Mother Nature decides to show up. Actually, it's one of those races where it still means something if you start and CCC-Liv started perfectly.

No doubt it was the best race we had done as a team. For the first 115 kilometres we had this amazing rhythm, operating like a well-oiled machine and then some. We were riding together, positioned well, Marianne felt amazing and so did I. To have everyone come together like that, it was just another level. We had the goods to pull off a win, we just needed the luck.

The final 30 kilometres is where the big bets are made. I knew we had the fire power to execute the final strategy but as we got together on the Kanarieberg (climb #6) someone switched my wheel. Somehow I didn't crash and, after a quick foot down, I started to chase back. I wasn't too far behind but there also wasn't a lot of time before the next climb, the cobbled Taaienberg (climb #7), where the pressure would continue.

ADVERTISEMENT

I didn't have a choice: I had to go all in to catch the peloton or it was race over. I didn't even have to think about making a decision, my legs were already powering across the gap and up the Kanarieberg.

Now, I know Belgian roads. I've raced in Belgium for many years. I know the cobbles, the narrow roads, the road furniture, and the wide crack right down the centre of their concrete roads. I'm always aware of that crack. I know it's there but as if two hands reached up and grabbed my wheels, out of nowhere my bike instantly came to a complete stop. My wheels were both perfectly stuck in that centre crack. Like walking into a glass door, it caught me so off guard I only realized what had happened after I hit the ground, slid across the road into the ditch, and came to a stop in stinging nettles.

Grazed and confused, I got up and back to my bike. The drivetrain was all messed up. I definitely needed a new bike but, after the big splits on the Kanarieberg, the team cars were too far behind. Everything had happened so fast that I could actually still see the bunch ahead. It didn't matter what I had, I needed to go all in again if I was to get back.

You can read more at Cyclingnews.com

As the season is being planned in the winter, everything is so clean and simple. The calendar has a logical flow with building, peak, and rest periods. You notice the 'R's on some other races, but at that point of the year don't give much attention to your reserve races. But then the season starts for real and you realise that cycling is messy—sometimes, really messy.

Some years are worse than others, but injuries and illness are a constant presence, and when this unfortunate duo arrive at a time of year where teams are running a double - or even triple – race programmes, that carefully-planned calendar quickly has more lines and arrows than one of John Madden's play diagrams.

It seems like just a few days ago that I was nervously pinning on my first number of the season at the Tour de Provence. Early-season French racing never disappoints, and it was a solid kick in the pants. I left with tired legs, pleased with my February form and impressed by the level some guys already had.

ADVERTISEMENT

After a short couple of days at home, I found myself on an unanticipated flight to the United Arab Emirates to replace an injured teammate at the new WorldTour race. Even if my participation wasn't planned, I was in good shape and motivated to see what I could accomplish. I finished the week feeling encouraged by my performance -- that everything was going to plan, even if it wasn't quite sticking to the plan.

One thing we confirmed in the UAE Tour was that the difference between riding on the front and hiding in the bunch during four hours of stiff headwind makes for very different experiences, and I wasn't all that fatigued after the week-long race. Keen to keep building on my form, I jumped right back into training after returning from the race. It wasn't long before my phone rang with the news that I would be missing training camp, instead heading to Italy for my fourth participation in Tirreno-Adriatico, marking my third last-minute call-up to the race.

That same day, I saw the carnage that was stage 1 of Paris-Nice, which put two more teammates on the injured list. After such a string of injuries and a few last-minute call-ups already, it’s at this point that riders start checking on those previously-ignored 'R's on the schedule to anticipate calls that may be coming sooner than later.

You can read more at Cyclingnews.com