BRODIE CHAPMAN
FDJ NOUVELLE-AQUITAINE
Adapt or perish. When things go awry in a stage race, you still have to wake up and race the next day. I avidly followed the Tour de France and was frequently shocked and intrigued by the saga, twists, travesties and triumphs. At the very same time, flying under the media radar, was the women’s Giro Italia - 10 days racing across the north of Italy to the Slovenian border in the fight for pink.
With very little to no live TV nor hungry journalists lurking around the team bus, the public is rarely privy to the inner workings of the women’s peloton. It is the only ‘grand tour’ the women have for now, therefore unique stories emerge.
I love the idea of taking each day as it comes, going in with a crafty plan and trying to have it play out. But when it doesn’t, you have to keep calm and carry on if you want to experience the Giro in its totality. Our team decided to go all-in for GC with one, even two, very strong riders. This year, we went all-in to perfect our TTT, with a camp, aero testing, an aero coach and six highly motivated athletes. Last year we lost our podium spot due to our appallingly average TTT. We flipped it on its head this year, going from little preparation to laser focus.
Unfortunately, the first day was the TTT and we were hit with the bad luck stick. A tricky cobbled road off the start ramp caused a crash for our leader. She was right back up and racing, pulling monster turns despite being injured. It wasn’t long before another rough road forced our other main leader out of the formation with a flat. It was devastating, and a large majority of our race was two of us pulling to try and offset our deficit.
Despite the blow, we remained confident we could fight for the top 10, maybe top five, and take chances.
The following days the drama only continued, with me crashing out of a break that ended up winning stage 3, and losing a domestique due to the time cut on stage 4. By stage 8, another rider left to recover from her injuries in time for the Olympics. There were tears, disagreements and miscommunications. You would be hard pressed to find a team where this didn’t happen. To top it off, I was forced to abandon due to an asthma attack.
However, out of the ashes of the chaos emerged the strengths of the team. The riders supported each other in the darkest moments; our staff cared for us. We adapted each day to the plan, refined our skills and remained 100 per cent committed to the race despite the goal slipping from our clutches from the get go. We still received positive advice and constructive feedback from our directors daily.
You could write two stories about our Giro, one a tragedy, and the other a collection of small, triumphant stories that will only serve to improve us as a team and as individuals. It also shone a light on the things we ought to be very grateful for.
I like the saying, ‘how you relate to the situation is the situation’ and this year’s Giro was the catalyst for a shift in mindset and motivation.
“I love the idea of taking each day as it comes, going in with a crafty plan and trying to have it play out”
Following the nationals and my announcement that I would be retiring, I needed to drop everything, without thinking about the bike, or the pros and cons of my decision. It’s weird when, after several weeks of hard training, recons and racing, things come to a halt. Announcing the end of one’s career is liberating, but actually being at home, facing up to the decision and thinking about the future is a different thing. You have to consider the next steps in your life and put yourself in the shoes of a man who is no longer a pro cyclist. It’ll be different from what has become the norm for me over the last 10 years, but I’m also looking forward to it.
I’m a bit nervous of life off the bike, and afraid of failing in my future endeavours. But I still don’t regret my decision to quit. I have a lot of plans, and I’ve been asking a lot of questions of myself, such as, “Am I going to be successful in the future? Will this reinvigorate me professionally? Will I have time to do everything I have in mind?” All these questions put more pressure on me, but I will accept that pressure more easily than the pressure I have felt the last few months. From now on, my decisions will not be for the good of my teammates or anybody else. They will be for me, and I will be the only one to answer for my choices, decisions and actions.
I’ve actually been on the road for a few weeks with my bike in the boot of the car. I visited some childhood friends, my current team-mate Jérémy Lecroq, my old friend Arthur Vichot who retired last year, and my brother and his family, before hitchhiking with Cyril Lemoine, who had to leave the Tour on stage 1 after a big crash in the final. When I saw ‘Sparrow’ fall at such high speed with Bryan Coquard in his wheel I thought, definitely no, I don’t want to go through this any more. That was one of the first times in my life that I was afraid while watching TV and it reinforced my feeling that I have made the right choice.
I was sad to see Cyril leave the race on day one and then for Bryan to miss the cut in Tignes. But it’s the Tour: it’s merciless. It’s sad for those who have to go home, because the Tour is a race that you prepare for months… then suddenly it stops.
On the other hand, seeing Franck Bonnamour getting involved as he did for three weeks, unrestrained, was a great pleasure. This is the magic of the Tour, which lets riders be great when the planets are all aligned. Seeing Franck chosen as the Super Combative of the Tour was a great joy and he totally deserved it. It’s up to him now to ride that wave. Something tells me that he’ll do it without losing his way, or stopping what has worked for him over years. In cycling, even more than anywhere else, miracles don’t happen.