The glamping trip to Belgium continued with a few more races and a bit more success with cooking in the trekkershut. It’s amazing what you can conjure up with a mussel pot, a sharp knife, wooden spoon and a Tupperware container once you work out how to use the hob. Of course we didn’t wait for over an hour for a pot of water to boil for pasta as we had it on the lowest setting rather than the highest – that would be stupid!
After my efforts to come in 8th place in Erondgem, I could feel a bit of pain lurking about behind my left knee as I climbed into bed that night. I took a couple of ibuprofen and crossed my fingers it would be ok by 5pm the next day when our next race was scheduled, 18 laps and 96km round Heusden. Being in Belgium just to race, it was the last thing I wanted not to be able to and I was annoyed to feel it still niggling the next day albeit only slightly. I decided to get on the bike and onto the start line though as it was hardly noticeable most of the time and this was also despite the best efforts of the weather- atrocious, and the music played on loudspeaker at the start of the race – worse. I had thought Alli’s ipod selection was bad but being met with two different murderous versions of a well loved Beatles song back to back was enough to put anyone off racing.
Once the race started it went by in a bit of a blur as my knee was hurting every time I put a big effort in. Whereas the previous day I’d been up at the front attacking, I was struggling nearer the back of the peleton. The feeling was awful. I foolishly tried a couple of times to go with an attack but my leg just wasn’t working. I changed tact and instead worked at the front for Alli to try and help her establish a break but even that was difficult and I began to drift further and further back. After about five laps I began to think that I really shouldn’t be racing, a thought that had been at the back of my mind all day but that I was trying really hard to ignore. Having never once given up on a race I just couldn’t get my head around being the one to bail out. I spent the next four laps having an argument with myself about whether or not I should stop racing. I was in Belgium to race so I should race but there was also the bigger picture to think about and the impending Tour de l’Ardeche which would be my biggest race so far. Eventually the sensible version of me won and as the bunch approached the car park I slowed down to a stop. I was absolutely gutted. Although I knew I’d made the right decision and I didn’t want to sacrifice the stage races towards the end of the season I was cold, wet and thoroughly miserable. I hid in the car for a couple of laps and finally dragged myself out to support Alli and Amy who were still battling round in the rain. If I wasn’t going to race, at least I could try and be there for them as they went round and round and round and when they both finished safely in the bunch their big smiles told a different story to my glumness.
I was advised not to race the next day by almost everyone I spoke to and even I thought another 96km was probably going to be a bad idea so I took some more ibuprofen and kept my leg up as much as possible. However, my knee had other ideas and bizarrely the next day it felt absolutely fine. I couldn’t believe it when I woke up and it didn’t hurt, it was like a whole different leg. I gingerly walked about on it, waiting for it to twinge but the pain I’d had the day before just wasn’t there.
Looking about as we lined up for the start line in Puivelde, Sint Niklaas it was largely the same girls who had raced the day before. Not wanting to risk getting seriously injured I made a pact with myself that I was going to sit in for the first half of the race and not do anything more than I had to so I could test the waters. This was really hard to do, plus I was amazed how easy it was to sit in and do as little as possible! A few breaks went away, some for longer than others and the cobbled section seemed to play a bit of havoc within the bunch as some riders decided to free wheel over them. Not how I’d chose to ride them and an unpopular tactic when I was caught behind. I was hankering for the race to get to the halfway point so I could try and attack when a significant break was caught by the bunch. I then spent the rest of the race attacking and working with Alli, trying to get one of us away in a break. We both had periods of success with one of us being in most of the moves but the Australian Institute of Sport, who had the most tactical team, were brilliant at controlling the race to ensure it was brought down to a sprint finish. Alli, Amy and I all finished about halfway down the bunch and I was ecstatic that my knee had held out for the duration of the race. Even better, Alli picked up a 10 euro sprint prime – coffee money for our rest day :o)
