The spring classics
I didn’t really know what a “Spring Classic” was this time last year. I had a vague awareness the Sean Kelly had some previous but we all know he’s as Flemish as they come at this stage. Another nutty farmer to add to an entire country of nutty farmers who happen to think Mussels and chips are as good as it gets. Then a friend asked if I wanted to have a go at the “Tour of Flanders”. Had he called it the Ronde van Vlaanderen presumed he was choking on his lunch and applied excessive force to a Heimlich maneuver, but instead I said yes.
So there I was with 20,000 flemish lunatics each of whom thought they were going to show torpedo Tom and Eddy a thing or two, rolling out of Nivone on what we call in Ireland a “Soft Day” (directly translated as wet, mucky and miserable enough make small children cry) I couldn’t help but be impressed at the scale of the whole affair. Local rivalry’s and allegiances that I didn’t know existed shone through in a way that I have only seen in Gaelic Games (which goes out of their way to turn neighborly jaunts into pitched battles for local bragging rights). My head was filled (courtesy of you-tube) with romantic images of the Hard men- Eric Vanderaerden leading home 23 poor souls in ’85, Kelly flying down the poggio at San Remo in 92 and Tom Boonan in 2001 the whippet! I was just like the other 20,000 fanatics I wanted to conquer the Muir and the Koppenberg, I wanted to be Sean Kelly only unlike Kelly the Ronde would be mine!
And then I came a cropper……
My second section of Pavè wheel got caught and down I went. Broke a collar bone (see Lance’s recent X-rays on cyclingnews.com for an idea!) and felt embarrassed enough to continue on my bike for about another 10K before abandoning for an operating theatre and a metal plate installed.
When I was discharged the Ronde organizers took Pity and filled me with complimentary beer for the pro race the following day. I was full to the gills with Duval beer and anesthetic when Devolder time trailed away. So one broken shoulder, one broken carbon frame and a feed of beer later I still think of it as one of the best sporting weekends of my life. I didn’t make it back this year (family wedding) but next year I’ll be out to get those 20,000 Belgians and this time I mean business…
How could you not get exited about that!
I didn’t really know what a “Spring Classic” was this time last year. I had a vague awareness the Sean Kelly had some previous but we all know he’s as Flemish as they come at this stage. Another nutty farmer to add to an entire country of nutty farmers who happen to think Mussels and chips are as good as it gets. Then a friend asked if I wanted to have a go at the “Tour of Flanders”. Had he called it the Ronde van Vlaanderen presumed he was choking on his lunch and applied excessive force to a Heimlich maneuver, but instead I said yes.
So there I was with 20,000 flemish lunatics each of whom thought they were going to show torpedo Tom and Eddy a thing or two, rolling out of Nivone on what we call in Ireland a “Soft Day” (directly translated as wet, mucky and miserable enough make small children cry) I couldn’t help but be impressed at the scale of the whole affair. Local rivalry’s and allegiances that I didn’t know existed shone through in a way that I have only seen in Gaelic Games (which goes out of their way to turn neighborly jaunts into pitched battles for local bragging rights). My head was filled (courtesy of you-tube) with romantic images of the Hard men- Eric Vanderaerden leading home 23 poor souls in ’85, Kelly flying down the poggio at San Remo in 92 and Tom Boonan in 2001 the whippet! I was just like the other 20,000 fanatics I wanted to conquer the Muir and the Koppenberg, I wanted to be Sean Kelly only unlike Kelly the Ronde would be mine!
And then I came a cropper……
My second section of Pavè wheel got caught and down I went. Broke a collar bone (see Lance’s recent X-rays on cyclingnews.com for an idea!) and felt embarrassed enough to continue on my bike for about another 10K before abandoning for an operating theatre and a metal plate installed.
When I was discharged the Ronde organizers took Pity and filled me with complimentary beer for the pro race the following day. I was full to the gills with Duval beer and anesthetic when Devolder time trailed away. So one broken shoulder, one broken carbon frame and a feed of beer later I still think of it as one of the best sporting weekends of my life. I didn’t make it back this year (family wedding) but next year I’ll be out to get those 20,000 Belgians and this time I mean business…
How could you not get exited about that!
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