LAURENS TEN DAM
He wasn’t a classics man, but for Laurens the real start of the season is in Belgium
Those men of steel like Johan Museeuw or Peter Van Petegem raced hard and afterwards they would drink a Trappist to relax and chill with their team- mates
The cycling season starts February 29. Period. Okay, I must admit. I followed the Tour Down Under a little bit. Richie Porte not winning on Willunga Hill was a big surprise for me. I followed Remco Evenepoel’s victory at the Vuelta a San Juan more closely - at the end, he is one of the youngsters I wrote about in my last column. And the Sunday of the cyclo-cross World Championships I didn’t move from my couch. All I needed for company was a Belgian ale and the Mathieu van der Poel one-man show winning the title.
But let’s face it, the real cycling season starts with Omloop Het Nieuwsblad. It’s the traditional Belgian opener. Those overseas races and those that take place in the south of Europe are a warm-up for the real thing. Don’t get me wrong, the peloton races damn hard there and wattages go beyond the imagination of normal human beings and retired pros. Nowadays everybody starts the season ready to go. Remember those well executed training camps? But I am talking about cycling history and the DNA of a nation in Belgium.
The cycling year starts the week before Omloop Het Nieuwsblad and it lasts until Paris-Roubaix, which because of its characteristics is counted as one of the Belgian spring classics too (the finish is less than 15km from the Belgian border). These are the six holy weeks of cycling in Flanders. Every single step that the favourites make become headlines in the newspapers. The conversation in the many bars surrounding the Flemish Ardennes has only one subject. Every tiny village has a local hero, which means they have to run a fan club which follows every race of their favourite. And if that local hero doesn’t exist, they get creative - they start a fan club for a foreigner. That is no joke. Cees Bol, a friend I train with, has a big Flemish fan club even though he doesn’t have a Dutch one.
I used to be a skinny climber. I excelled in the high mountains of the Tour de France in July. But I wanted to be part of the classics. I wanted to be one of those men. Those men who raced the Muur van Geraardsbergen or the Kwaremont every weekend and Wednesday in another race.
Those men of steel like Johan Museeuw or Peter Van Petegem raced hard and afterwards they would drink a Trappist to relax and chill with their team-mates. Three days later? They do it all over again until the Ronde van Vlaanderen or Paris-Roubaix. Then their season was finished
As a kid, I dreamed of being one of these men but my physical characteristics pushed me in another direction. There were no weeks of one-day racing in Belgium for me. I did Spanish stage races where we rode our climbing legs into shape for July. Now that I am retired that will change. I will find time to be in the Flemish heart of cycling in the coming months. I’ve heard great stories about the Tour of Flanders for cyclo tourists, which takes place the day before the race. Over 10,000 people riding on the course. With those small roads people have to wait in line to climb the Koppenberg. In that line the pre-race party starts. I’ll be there with a group of 10 friends from all over Europe. But to be honest, most of all, I want to enter one of those tents next to the parcours, let’s say on the Oude Kwaremont, order a pint of beer and start a conversation with one of the old men at the bar. I can’t wait to hear their stories about races ages ago. The races in Flanders where legends were made.
It is not far, who wants to join me?
Laurens ten Dam is an ex pro cyclist. He lives by his motto, ‘live slow, ride fast’, while doing podcasts, organising gravel events and running a coffee brand and clothing label. His big 2020 goal? Racing Kanza!