From Be to KY and NZ

For most of the past cyclocross season in Belgium I had been hoping that things would work out for making it to the World Championships at the beginning of February, but at the same time hadn't wanted to put too much pressure on myself or get too excited about the possibility of going just in case it didn't happen. As January rolled around I was able to plan going to Louisville, Kentucky properly and thanks to all of the generous donations people made through my fundme site I could book my tickets and start packing up my bikes and gear for two weeks with two races in the States.

I have written about this trip in two parts on the Spoke magazine blog (one and two) so will now jump forward to slightly closer to the present and my final week in Belgium.

Returning to Belgium after the high of the trip to America - meeting so many great people and getting to be part of an amazing and historic event - was somewhat of an anti-climax, and although the snow had temporarily cleared it was still cold and a bit miserable. As I had decided to return to New Zealand some time previously it was all I could do not to think about the magnificent summer that everyone was raving about back home in Wellington. Up until this point I had been sufficiently distracted by all of the racing, living in a different country and the novelty of the Belgian fans and their reaction to my moustache so as to not get down about the summer I had swapped for the coldest winter I've ever experienced. But now, seeing the end of my season approaching I couldn't contain it any longer, I missed the warmth of the sun.

I decided to make my final race the penultimate Superprestige in Hoogstraten, on Feb 10. I was due to leave for NZ the following weekend, and had arranged to meet and visit some friends in Holland and Germany over the days between, so wanted to have a good last sprint around in the mud or ice with my extended cyclocross family before bidding farewell. In the end it didn't quite work out to be the best time - I couldn't find the GPS so although I was fine for heading to Hoogstraten, I had to track back and forth a fair bit when I got there as I looked for the arrows in the street pointing me in the right direction. Snow had fallen overnight and the temperature was hovering just above freezing, so it was an awful combination of wetness and sloppy mud with occasional patches of frosty terrain. Due to my problems of navigation and time management I didn't manage to fit in a pre-ride of the course. This is generally considered essential, as it is really the only way to work out what tyre selection and then tyre pressure you are going to use in the race. And it allows for practising tricky sections. Most of all it just makes sense to have some idea of what you are going to be racing on. I ended up relying on a combination of advice from other riders, my experience after a 6-month season, and my general relaxed demeanor to get me and my bike to the start line in a state of more-or-less appropriate readiness.

I had a good start, and for the first while was riding alongside a few riders who I am generally quite far behind. This didn't last long though, and the first moderately tricky section of ruts caught me out and spat me off to the side and into the barrier tape. By the time I had extricated myself and my handlebars from the tape I was at the back, and the subsequent discovery that my front brake was largely disconnected as I accelerated down into the next descent caused me some small amount of discomfort. Once I had that back together it wasn't long until I dropped my chain, twice in a short space of time, slipping off just like my hopes of a combative and successful final endeavour in the mud of Belgium. Although this was a bit disappointing, I could never forget how amazing the whole time has been and how every race has really been a new and great experience for me, with lessons to be learned in every case.

Photo: Peter Schepens

So after the busiest season of racing ever for me, ready for a bit of rest and recuperation I cast my eye back to New Zealand and allowed myself to look forward to the sunshine and company of family and friends once more. I had seen that one of the biggest MTB races of the year in Wellington, the Karapoti Classic, was adding a cyclocross bike category to its roster for March. It is a brutally steep and rocky course, and while I realised how unpleasant it may well be on a cross bike, I have done it on my mountain bike several times and figured after my time overseas I might as well continue on with my 'cross bike and give it a crack. If not a crack, then at least a few punctures that's for sure. So now that I've finally got around to writing this, the race is on tomorrow. I think there are only a few other individuals testing themselves in this way, so it will be interesting to see how we fare against our MTB counterparts.

Whether it goes well or not, it feels like a nice finale to book-end my time racing cyclocross in Europe and dovetail into the coming cyclocross season in NZ, due to start in about June.

A Day in the Life of a Minor Celebrity

I had a day off on December 27th and spent it in Gent with Esther and some other guests of the Chain Stay - Luke, Aaron and Mark - wandering the streets looking for trouble, coffee, lingerie, art supplies and a movie theatre. After roaming for a few hours picking up various people's desires we got tickets to see The Hobbit, and while waiting for it to start we headed into the bar next door.

It's been a slow and unscientific progression of tasting the beers on offer in this country, for me at least, due to the combination of the sheer number and strength of the beers, and my relatively weak fortitude. An 11% one I tried recently had me struggling to stand steady, looking for a seat and almost nodding off after just one sip. Despite the factors working in favour of a higher consumption - the price of beer and wine here is unfathomably cheap in comparison to New Zealand, especially for the quality - I have tended not to indulge apart from on the odd occasion.

After we'd finished our drinks and were putting on our jackets about to go, I saw the bartender glance at me. He gave me a look of recognition and mouthed hello, or possibly hallo, then walked over to ask me if I was going to be racing that coming weekend, and wished me luck. Suitably surprised and entertained by being recognised in a city I've only visited once before, we then went into the cinema to watch a drawn out and unconvincing replica of LOTR. The main highlight for me was that it had two sets of subtitles the whole way through - French and Dutch. Although it took up about a third of the screen, it was a great chance to practice my Dutch reading undisturbed for a few hours.

We then traipsed out into the night, seeking a source of sustenance. Finding mainly only high-brow establishments we made our way down a few streets until we came across a pub jam packed with people, most of whom were sitting down with meals. We waited at the bar until a table became available, watching as the barman almost singlehandedly ran the place. There were two other waiting staff doing tables, but this guy was doing all the drinks and coffee for both the restaurant and bar, answering the phone, taking orders for food and cleaning glasses. He also did a good job of defending me when an impatient dude, presumably of the opinion that I was hogging it, tried to grab the menu out of my hands. He took it in turn out of his hands, put it back in mine, and told the guy to go back to his seat. I saw a couple of small bowls of peanuts come back from a cleared table, which he put aside - presumably, I thought, for him to eat later or to throw out when he got the chance. He washed a few more glasses, then with wet hands stacked the bowls of nuts on top of one another. I really started to wonder what was going to happen to them now, but had a sneaking suspicion of what he might be up to. Esther and I then watched as he poured drinks for the impatient guy, following his movements with smug amusement as he proceeded to wack down the half eaten, slightly damp peanuts in front of him. The guy gobbled them down like they were delicious. It was poetic justice before our very eyes.

Once we had been seated and were about to start eating, the waiter asked me if I was famous in New Zealand as well. When I said no, he explained that there was a woman from NZ at a table on the far side of the restaurant and he wanted to know if she would know who he was talking about if he mentioned my name. I replied that she would probably not have a clue, and we laughed at the bizarre nature of being famous in a foreign country for something that most people have never heard of back home.

The Canadians, Aaron and Mark found it particularly amusing to be in my company and witness it. It's been quite useful sometimes, in particular for getting good parking spots at races. Generally the big professional teams arrive on site very early, sometimes even the night before. They take up a lot of space with their trucks and mobile homes, which tends to force the smaller contingents such as ours out along the access road, or at least to a second and more distant parking space. At the race in Leuven in December Aaron was driving us in, and when we were stopped by a parking volunteer it looked like we would be turned around and told to try elsewhere, as the car park was "full" (most of the time full means half-full, especially if you are neither part of a big team or an elite men competitor). Just as it seemed he was about to utter the bad news, I leaned forward and looked across from the passenger seat. The guy's eyes opened wide, he exclaimed brightly and pointed us in the direction of an area taped off for the Sunweb-Revor team, saying we could just park in their space.

I have got a little more used to people wanting to take photos of me at races, even though it often seems just to be a shot of me positioned awkwardly on my bike that they are looking for. Families with small children (typically covered in Sven Nys or Niels Albert merchandised clothing) come up and pose excitedly beside me, and wandering adults too linger near the van when I'm warming up looking for a cheeky snap. Most of the time people ask, but sometimes they just stand off and take a photo without saying anything which is a bit weird. I don't know if it's a language thing, but even so gesticulations and sign language tend to work pretty well if spoken communication is out of the question. I've met some great characters, and enjoyed as much as I can being recognised most of the places I go, so even if it all ends with the racing in a few weeks then I will look back happily upon the strangest time of my life as I slink back into the crowd.

Photo: Julie Vanbelle

Post-Christmas Daze: Part One

Every year around Christmas the cyclocross season in Belgium reaches its peak, climaxing with a combination of World Cup and Category 1 races from the major series, and other category 2 races that aren't part of any series but want to squeeze in nonetheless and be a part of the action. Despite having ridden mountain bikes for a few years now, I've never had more than about 3 consecutive weekends of racing, even at the peak of the season. Certainly I've never had midweek races in addition to this, so my schedule of races looked to me like a lot. However it was only a selection of what was available to do and the top professionals race almost every other day during this fortnight.

I've written about the first half of it in my blog on the Spoke magazine website so I will leave the description of it there, but here I will include some more photos that didn't make it into that blog. I am very thankful to the many generous Belgian photographers who come along to all the races, take great photos and then share them with us riders. It's made my posts much more interesting to look at, and will be a great source of memories once the season has ended.

Leuven Dec 16th:

Schooled by Canadian Aaron Schooler! Photo: Jozef Cooreman

You can't beat a fist punch. Photo: Rita Thienpondt

Sint-Niklaas, Dec 19th:

Photo: Geert Van den Bossche

Lewis Rattray sneaking away. Photo: Rita Thienpondt

Single file early on. Photo: Jozef Cooreman

Namur World Cup Dec 23rd:

Photo: Jozef Cooreman

There were greasy corners a-plenty. Photo: Dirk Bruylant

My Canadian bro's Aaron and Mark. Photo: Ludo Nagels

I got some good airtime on TV when I blocked the world's view of Pauwels leading!

Biggest World Cup field so far, over 60 starters. Photo: John de Jong

Heusden-Zolder World Cup Dec 26th:

Rubbish begins to cover course. Photo: Tom Prenen

One lap down, feeling good. Photo: Jozef Cooreman

Two laps down, bad crash, not feeling good. Photo: Jozef Cooreman

Photo: Tom Prenen

 I'll put out a second part in a few days once I've come up with the words, and made my way through a ton of leftover Christmas chocolate.

Koksijde and the Road to Roubaix

With my first World Cup at Koksijde now done, dusted and sanded off, it's time to start looking a bit further ahead. For a race report from the day, have a look at my post on the Spoke magazine blog. In summary, it was a great course and awesome to be part of. There's so much sand that it's very difficult to ride it all, but that didn't stop me from appreciating the unique nature of the parcours. Well, maybe for the 40 minutes or so that I was in the race.

I was running a lot. Photo: Luc van der Meiren

I have had a massive influx of donations recently on my Gofundme site, thank you to everyone for the support! I'm not sure how much of it was race-related or just general kindness, after I got through 4 laps at Koksijde. Although I didn't reach my goal of finishing, I did make it into the top 50 - placing 47th. For those interested, my idea was for people to pledge something per lap that I can complete at the World Cup races. On Sunday December 2nd I will be racing at Roubaix, France. This is typically a very muddy course, so usually quite a change from sandy Koksijde - but last week's rain blurred the edges a bit, and meant that when there wasn't sand there was mud. I expect there will be a similar number of laps in Roubaix if the weather remains wet, so probably either 8 or 9. I will of course be aiming to finish the race, and once again try to gain a top-50 placing.

For some example viewing of what to expect Roubaix to be like, below is a Youtube video of the 2010 World Cup.




I'm having a weekend off racing next week, and taking the opportunity to visit family in London and Paris. When I get back to Belgium it will be a week and a half until the infamous Christmas 'Cross period - in which there are races more or less every other day for a fortnight. I'm yet to entirely work out which ones I'll do, but will decide before I go away. There are two World Cups - Namur on Dec 23 and Heusden-Zolder on Dec 26 - so I will work around those.

In the meantime keep your eyes peeled for mud-spattered riders in Roubaix, and I'll do my best to remain visible for as long as I can!

Los Pedalos fan club sandwich. Photo: Danny Zelck

World Cup Time

As I've mentioned quite a few times over the course of recent months a big part of my trip to race cyclocross here in Belgium was to take part in as many of the World Cups as possible. I used to always get confused by the difference between the World Cup and the World Champs, so just to clarify for newcomers to the sport the World Cup is a series of races throughout the season. There are 8 in total this year, two of which I didn't do in the Czech Republic have already been. The next is Koksijde, Belgium this coming Saturday followed a week later by Roubaix, France on Dec 2nd. There are two more late in December, Namur and Heusden-Zolder both here in Belgium, then I will skip Rome in early January and enter the final one in Hoogerheide, Netherlands on January 20th. The overall winner of the World Cup series gets lots of money and fame but generally the world title is more sought after. The first weekend of February is when the World Championships is on in Louisville, Kentucky, USA. This is a one-off competition to decide who is the world champion, and thus who wears the coveted rainbow stripes on their jersey. I am going to be there to contest the title, representing New Zealand. Faced with the international airfares, comprehensive racing and travel insurance and ongoing costs associated with travel to and from races, not to mention worn out equipment and other material, I need a fair bit of help to do this.

Crowdfunding

A month or so ago I set up a paypal-based gofundme.com site where people could donate towards helping me realise this dream trip of racing cyclocross in Belgium and going to the World Championships. I have to thank the many people who have already generously supported me so far, from friends and family to complete strangers. I still have a fair bit to raise to continue, so I wish to propose another, more interactive way in which to earn this support.

Being from New Zealand, I grew up with bikes as a small part of my life. While they have always been present and I have always enjoyed a bit of mountain biking and touring with friends, I have only been racing competitively since the age of 23. Here in Belgium, racing often begins at the age of 12 so some of my competitors have 15-20 years' racing experience over me! The cyclocross scene in Belgium is like nowhere else in the world, so while it really is the best place to come to learn from the best and therefore gain rapid experience, it is incredibly difficult and I find myself struggling while others make it look easy. I aim to get as close to finishing each race as possible, but as riders are automatically pulled from the course if they fall behind the leader by more than 80% of the leader's first lap time, this is a most tricky business. If a typical race has 6 minute laps, and thus 10 laps over the course of the hour of racing, I can only lose up to 4 minutes and 30 seconds before it's over. That leaves a maximum loss of 27 seconds per lap in order to stay in it, but sometimes I lose a whole minute in one lap! Considering I'm facing the best in the world, it's a tough ask.

My proposal is that while I am racing in these World Cups, I ask people to pledge a certain amount per lap that I complete, to donate towards my campaign. Some of the courses will have shorter laps and therefore more of them, others longer and fewer. But overall the average seems to be between 8 - 10 laps per race, depending on conditions and terrain. Pledges could take the form of a one-off amount per lap for all five World Cups, or individually by race. There are typically between about 70-90 riders in a race, and my goals are to stay in the race as long as possible (preferably right to the last lap!) and to reach the top-50.

So if you think you are able to donate, please have a think about how you might like to do it. You could choose to let me know what your method will be, to motivate me. Or alternatively not disclose it and make it a surprise. I will post on this blog before each race and describe the course to the best of my ability, what to expect and what I hope to achieve if it differs from my aforementioned goals. I have been overwhelmed with the support I have received so far - whether it be financial, vocal from the sidelines or simply friendly messages with encouraging words, it all helps and keeps me even more motivated to continue to push myself and gain as much experience and improve as much as I possibly can during my time here.

On another note, my team Los Pedalos have made a whole bunch of merchandise which they will be selling at races on my behalf, with proceeds going towards my campaign. They have had cycling caps, beanies, T-shirts and jackets custom made with a special moustachioed theme. They are a lovely bunch of people, and have really taken it upon themselves to help me as much as possible, for which I am extremely grateful. So for the Belgian fans and supporters out there, please look out for the team truck at races. For those of you in New Zealand, I will soon be sending a package to Revolution Bicycles in Wellington for further national distribution. For those around the world, it may be tricky! I'll bring some to the World Champs in February, so if not for a moustache then come along for what I'm sure will be an amazing weekend of races and festivities.

I'll add below some of the videos that have surfaced from the various interviews I've had in the Belgian media since my arrival. For further post-race debriefings and other intriguing observations from my travails please check my blog The Cyclo X Files on the Spoke magazine website. Thanks again for all the support so far, and I look forward to doing you proud!

Iedereen Beroemd - segment from Belgian TV programme Everybody Famous

Sporza.be Reportage at Ronse round of the bpost Bank Trofee

Tribute to Enghien

My first port of call when I had just arrived here in Belgium was the town of Enghien (in English and French, and Edingen as it is known in Flemish). Hosted by the great Koole family, who have always put the family in family friends, it was in all regards with a warm and enticing welcome that I was met. From the family lunches in the sun, with clear skies and 30ºC+ temperatures, to the myriad of small country roads and treelined lanes down which to ride my bike, the first couple of months were most definitely a welcome relief from the drizzle and grizzle of a wintry Wellington.

I'm a big fan of cats, in particular cats in unusual or unexpected surroundings. I couldn't resist taking photographic evidence of some (or all) of these chaps and chappettes, so please have patience while I briefly indulge my passion for the local talent.

Alcoholism, particularly binge drinking, is a real problem with the local cats in this part of town

Stealthy and sneaky, the jungle cat prowls the corn fields.

The cold steely gaze of eyes that have known nothing but years of incarceration

As I started to explore more widely around the area I encountered a vast array of historic places, ancient cobbled roads and a ménagerie of animals that seem to be commonplace here on people's property, but would rarely be seen in such a context in New Zealand. Let me guide you on a typical ride through the countryside of my Belgian initiation, replete with all my favourite local man-made and animal quirks, along with plenty of other curious inexplicables.

I caught this guy staggering around drunkenly, disoriented and clearly lost.

One of my more regular sections of road for training took in a beautiful, quiet tree-lined boulevarde near Bierghes, between Enghien and Rebecq. Judging by the size and architectural nuances of the housing constructions it was obviously where many well-to-do's choose to live. There's nothing like living in the forest, at one with nature. That is, only once you've cleared the section of hundreds of mature 30m high trees, planted grass, and erected some of the most industrial-looking metallic walls known to man.

There's actually a Zebra in there by the door, with a baby. Of course.

The typical Belgian horse. Although it could well be a Trojan horse...

Cycling in Belgium enjoys a status similar to that of car usage on the road. It is an everyday activity for many people, especially elderly ladies who you see loading up their panniers with groceries every time you head to the local supermarket. There are often many options for navigating via cycle paths, small roads between main ones, as well as recreational routes through scenic landscapes. Sometimes I didn't feel like wearing a helmet, and would take the opportunity to feel the wind through my hair unimpeded, savouring the sense of freedom that it inspires.

It's often quite surprising to find out exactly what some of the sponsors of professional teams actually do. Some make jeans, watches, or GPS units, others are car rental companies and many are banks. This one was a revelation, and I found it while ripping out the old 19th century flooring of the house of my friend's relative. This was to be the replacement! 

I always find it interesting to read the graffiti in foreign languages, occasionally being able to make sense of what I see. However it seems tagging in English is the cool way to do it. As always with a second language mistakes are inevitable, and an essential part of the learning process. They also make for good comic moments when on display in public:

better luck next time

Dangerous intersection - not one staked out by pirates with a map showing hidden treasure.

Not being one to ever let the opportunity for a predictable joke pass by unsaid, this was too good to refuse.

You are so silly!

Come on now, don't be silly.

If ever I was riding past the main motorway to Brussels at about 2pm I would witness the passing of the French TGV, the high speed train from Paris. In some ways it was impossible to miss, due to the volume of the noise it creates rushing through the air. But on the other hand, if you didn't look up at the right moment it's actually quite easy to miss because it just passes through so quickly. Add to this the occasional fly-over courtesy of the local Belgian Air Force jet flighters, and humans' ability to make very fast machines that make lots of noise and are very expensive to run was most explicitly displayed. Only for very brief moments however. Then, like the children playing on the church organ after mass getting overly enthusiastic and physical with the instrument, the dusty velvet would once again be draped over the keys, and hushed tones would issue forth about it being time to move on.

My favourite aspect of a regular ride I did had to be a road sign by the motorway offramp near Rebecq. Well, it was actually three road signs. And each actually had about 10-15 smaller signs on it. I marvelled at how much new information I was able to garner at each passing, yet never really having the time to take in anything that I saw in the time I had. I could just imagine people in their cars leaving the motorway, only to find themselves confronted by this scene. The frantic darting of their eyes as they try and take everything in, hurriedly looking for their destination while the pressure of being at an intersection and having cars queued behind them fuels their growing unease. There is so much there that apparently must be pointed out immediately, from a piano shop to a removal company, even an abandonned velodrome. And that's only the first sign. They almost need to have a cafe alongside, so you can take your time to find the place you are looking for, maybe have a coffee while doing so. But then they would most likely be closed when you visited, as it would probably be lunchtime. Or it would be a Sunday, when everything is closed. Or a Monday, which is sort of like another Sunday. If indeed it was a day that they were open, by the time you'd finished reading the sign and worked out which way to go, they probably would have long since closed for the day.

Christmas trees already in September? Looks a bit like a permanent sign...

I had one puncture in all my rides through August and September. Despite potentially having clocked up a few thousand kilometres, among which many were over cobbles, my tyres held up extraordinarily well over some very rough terrain. The one time they couldn't quite handle what was thrown at them, it was fairly evident why. I have had a more impressive object go through my tyre before, but that was passing through an industrial part of town as a cycle courier in Wellington years ago. This nail was a good 4-5cm long, and on a fairly innocuous stretch of cycle path just outside of Enghien.

It reminded me a bit of this guy, from the Kiwi Brevet back in February, at Castle Hill heading towards Arthur's Pass. Both prickly characters, in their own way:

Lastly, where would we be without thousands of small breweries scattered all over the countryside? Not Belgium, that's for sure. I have found a few in my travels, the wares of which I have even managed to taste on a small scale.

Brasserie Lefebvre in Quenast

Brouwerij Roman, near Brakel.

Brouwerij Den Herberg, Buizingen.

I have since moved to the town of Oudenaarde, in the heart of Flanders. Close to much of the cyclocross races, the only hills in Flanders and a long flat stretch of calm canal road, it is ideally situated for the life of a cyclist. Like everywhere in Belgium, there seems to be roadworks taking place on every other street. But it's a nice place and I am happy to be here.

Fast Times At Belgium High

It's been much longer than I intended since my last post, and time has flown by faster than the professionals I have been racing against. The last weekend of September I had my first double header racing amongst them. Saturday was the first of the Soudal Classics in Neerpelt, and a UCI category 2 race. This means the all-important points, which determine the riders' start positions in all races, are up for grabs. For the top 15, that is.

After almost three hours of driving for the first time in Europe, for the first time in the left of a car and for the first time on the right hand side of the road, following for the first time an in-car navigation system as best I could, I made it only slightly panicked and frazzled to the course in the far north-east of Belgium, parking up alongside the team trucks of BKCP-Powerplus - sponsor of current world champion Niels Albert. I just squeezed in between a couple of trees on a patch of grass, happily just out of view of the hoards of passing celebrity cyclocross-spotters. Due to the late start of my race at 5pm, I had plenty of time to look around and check out the course both on foot while other races were on, and then on my bike when there was free time.

It was a very sandy base, with an actual sandpit at one point which we went through twice per lap. I've never ridden much in sand, and it showed. I'd try and get up as much momentum as possible before entering it, then abruptly come to a halt not long after. This is definitely something to work on over the coming months, as one of the World Cup races is at a place called Koksijde, and it is essentially just a race over a whole bunch of sand dunes.

When I was scouting around the course I was recognised by a man with his family. He asked me if I was racing, and when I confirmed that indeed I was, we started to chat about why I'm here and how it's all going. His name was Andy and he gave me his email address, and later sent through a bunch of photos that his wife had taken of me.

Crucially though, we became Facebook friends. I didn't realise it at the time, but this was the initial trickle of a series of events that would turn into a veritable raging torrent and be by far the most surreal and unexpected experience of my life. At the startline I was approached by a journalist who had seen I was from New Zealand, and wanted to write a story about me. I had photos taken of me, and generally felt like a bit of a star, especially rubbing shoulders as I was with the big hitters of the cyclocross scene.

Photo: Het Belang van Limburg

The race I had wasn't one to write home about, I felt out of my depth and struggled with the course's sandy features - let alone everyone else in the race disappearing off ahead very early on. I think I got through only about 3 or 4 laps before being pulled off the course, lungs heaving and my morale sifting lazily through the sandy ground beneath me.

I set about heading back home - my new home in Oudenaarde, which is situated in the province of East-Flanders. It was just before sunset, and the sunstrike was the most intense I've ever experienced. Heading almost directly west was no fun at all, and combined with feeling blown to pieces from the race, discombobulated from the car's controls being backwards and driving on the right, I couldn't really see anything. Cars were overtaking me on a stretch of road with the sun directly at eye level, as I couldn't see what the speed indications on the side of the road were saying. I didn't know whether it was a 50km, 70km or 90km per hour zone, so I chose not to drive over about 55. I quickly got tired of this retina-burning exercise, and pulled over to buy a falafel and have a rest. Employing my slowly-improving Dutch I managed to order what I wanted, but when it came time for the sauces I had a bit of trouble. I understood that "pikant" was spicy, so I got that, but none of the other names registered anything familiar. I asked for the owner's recommendation, and so I had some "cocktail" with it. It was gigantic, delicious, full of a funny tasting mayonnaise and had about 10 medium-sized whole green chilies on the side. I bit into one, and finding it suitably "pikant" set about putting the rest of them onto my possibly-but-probably-never-having-later-on napkin.

It didn't take long for the sun to set, and I got on my way again. I took wrong turns several times on the massive motorway exchanges around Brussels and Antwerp, backtracking frustratingly and confusingly each time, watching the GPS clock as it showed the estimated arrival time getting later and later. I did eventually get home at about 10, so after washing my bike in preparation for the following day's race in Kalmthout, I had a chat with the others staying here at the Chain Stay, finding encouragement where previously I had been feeling pretty down. I went to bed determined to use this day as a lesson in what it's going to be like here. Always physically challenging, and therefore also mentally very difficult, but as I've mentioned previously, this is all part of what you need to be able to handle to do this here, so I just have to work out how to cope.

I woke up the following day feeling much better, and excited once again about racing in this huge events. I wasn't alone at this race, as Luke Gray - fellow resident of the house and former British U23 cyclocross champion - was also competing, albeit in the separate U23 category a couple of hours earlier in the day.

It was a nice winding flat course through a grassy forest, with an overpass construction and only a small couple of patches of sand. There were several sections of steps, some quite close together, but overall it looked like a fast and not too demanding loop. The organisers had started to notice the presence of a New Zealander in their midst, and made a special mention of this as I was called up - last, of course - to the start line.

I had a good start, keeping up with the back of the race train for about half of the first lap. I then had a slip up on a corner, and they disappeared off ahead. I rode as hard as I could, desperately trying to get back into the race, but it didn't happen. So after about 3 laps of racing by myself, I knuckled down in preparation for what would probably be my final lap. But the next time around I was shown the sign saying 5 laps remaining, so I figured I had just slipped through and might as well ride this one like it was my last. So I did, and again, as I rounded the corner into the finish straight I saw that I now had 4 laps remaining. I had just ridden as hard as possible to stay in this for another lap, and now I still had other laps to ride!

Photo: Ludo Nagels

So I forced myself to push at my limit for another lap, and again I approached the finish straight assuming I would be taken off. It was at about this time that someone texted the commentator (who knows how they got his number!) and asked if the New Zealander was still in the race. He replied that yes indeed, the Nieuw Zeelander is still in the race. Shortly after they cut to this shot of the aforementioned antipodean:

 

The next time I came around I was sure it would be the end for me, but no, it was instead still 3 laps to go. I couldn't believe it, was it really possible that I might finish a race? The crowd of spectators had gone from general support with a healthy dose of jeering directed towards me, into all-out shouting and rapturous encouragement of blasphemial proportions. They really wanted me to finish this race, as did I. I had made a few mistakes in the first lap, but since then had been getting smoother and smoother as I went, taking corners a bit faster and generally feeling in control. So after all this time of expecting to have my race end as I reached the section of sealed road, when it finally happened with 2 laps to go I found myself almost in disbelief that I wasn't still in the race.

Photo: Andy Foncke

I had lasted much longer than I ever expected, about 48 minutes in total. The average speed for the leaders was a very high 27/28km per hour, and through the majority of the race everyone else had more or less stayed together as one very long line of riders. Despite being totally satisfied with how things went, overwhelmed even, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of what if I'd just had a better first lap.... But there'll be plenty of races in which to make up for it over the coming months. One of my main goals - in fact probably my main one - is to finish at least one of these A races on the lead lap. Although it may not seem like that big a deal to lots of people, the level of competitivity of these races is just incredible in comparison to anything else I've ever done, so it's a pretty lofty goal. But seeing I've come all this way, why not?

During the week after these races, I had my interview with the journalist, and found it printed in not only the local Kalmthout newspaper Het Belang van Limburg, but also in the larger Gazet van Antwerpen. It also then spread onto the web through Sporza.be and Wielertoerist.be and suddenly my phone started ringing every day with various kinds of reporters looking to write a story about the rare moustachioed far-flung Kiwi.

The stuff cyclocross dreams are made of - the elusive Dugast whale foreskin 320 threads per inch casing. 

Equally too I began to receive offers from generous locals offering all kinds of services from bike cleaning, to applying warm towels to the back of my neck, to the use of a van and even a teenager who is trying to find me some sponsorship for shoes and sunglasses. So it has been an overwhelming few weeks. The publicity eventually attracted the attentions of Los Pedalos Cycling Team, who are being extremely helpful and supplying me with two Focus Mares cyclocross bikes, a stack of tubular wheels and tyres, and lots of their kit. Also they have begun to wear moustaches at the races, and further fuelled the growing hairy support club that has inched its way into the fray. I am extremely grateful for all this help, and it has been very humbling. Having a second bike means I will now be able to continue to race when I crash my bike or it just gets full of mud, as it is likely to do given the conditions that I will be racing in more and more from now. I have set up a Fundme site for donations, for financial help to go towards my campaign over here in Belgium, in which I plan to take on the nearby World Cups, and to take me through to and literally over to the World Championships in America in February. It is a long and increasingly cold season, but the reception I've had here has been warm and embracing.

People are constantly cheering me on at races, giving me thumbs up and words of encouragement and congratulations after races, and they even get excited about taking a photo of me! I am just as excited about all of this, and am looking forward to a great continuation of what has been so far the most unusual yet also encouraging and genuinely exciting time of my life.

Photo: Danny Zelck