Geoghegan (with green glasses) on the comeback trail in Belgium
With her Wobble (boyfriend) for company in her Wanderly Wagon (camper van) Irish elite rider Michelle Geoghegan recently set off for the first ever women’s Gent Wevelgem Classic as part of her Belgian Steeds-Vooraan squad. Here she talks us through the tough Continental classic, where she may have cursed the brutish climbs but enjoyed another strong day on the comeback trail from injury.
The Wanderly Wagon arrived in Middlekerk the evening before Gent Wevelgem. Having found Casino Middlekerk, which would host the start of the first edition of the women’s elite race, already barriered off we picked a spot on the side of the road a few kilometers from the start and set up camp for the night.
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The Wobble assured me that some snoring on my part was evidence I’d gotten some sleep during the night. Although the constant stream of traffic, and more worryingly for me and my race the next day, the wind howling through the camper meant I woke up feeling like I hadn’t slept at all.
The next morning we headed straight for the team parking area on the seafront even before cracking open the Barry’s Tea to allow for stress free parking. The weather all week had been fantastic, with temperatures well into the mid twenties. But we woke up to a freezing fog on the coast and as we lined up for the race start, with pre race rituals and obligations done and dusted, the fog was going nowhere. It was a pretty frozen peloton that rolled out of the square on the promenade at Middlekerk for a couple of neutralised kilometers to take us past the crowds and out of the city.
Studying the road map for the race in the days leading up to Gent Wevelgem it looked like it would most likely stay together until about the 67km mark where four steep climbs in the space of twenty kilometers would undoubtedly see the race split to bits.
Our DS Nico had given us a “paper for the bike” detailing where the climbs came, where the feed zone for the race would be, etc. It read 28.2km WIND. Fantastic. Apparently this stretch of 10km or so of small open country roads would usually see the men’s race split into a number of echelons and blow the peloton apart; with the group decimated in a matter of minutes
That’s exactly what happened 28.2km into Gent Wevelgem. Now it was all about suffering and being very, very smart; measuring every effort and using other riders by forcing them into the wind and reaping the drafting benefits.
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Around 20 or 30 lung and leg busting kilometers later and the peloton was largely back together. Doubtless there were casualties, but the majority headed for the hills together and the next onslaught.
Before we could tackle the climbs we had to survive the feed zone. At the feed zone every team will have at least one, but usually two or three, soigneurs to hand out bottles and race food to the riders as they whiz by at 40kph. As you can imagine, this doesn’t always run so smoothly and there can be crashes.
The four climbs in question a little further up the road were short but savagely steep in places. The Kemmelberg is cobbled and was ultimately where the race winning breaks in the peloton took place. I was feeling really good on the climbs; the problem was my positioning. Getting to, and staying at, the front of a peloton of 180 or so riders is not an easy task and with so little racing last year it’s a skill that I am having to relearn. As a result I was cursing on the Kemmelberg not because of the gradient or the cobbles but the frustration of being held up by half the peloton.
Climbs over, and with 25km to go, I was in the second group on the road and hitting a bit of a bad patch. Through the suffering I heard “Oi, Irish, you trying to put me in the ditch or something, ha ha”. It was my Scottish buddy and former teammate Eileen. Finally a bit of friendly banter to distract from the suffering. At this stage I felt like my wheel was rubbing but knew it was my legs! Around 15km later and I was out of my bad patch and riding strongly again.
With 4km to go I was on the front of the group thinking about leading out my team mate for the craic when there was an attack on the right. From that point to the finish line was complete madness. The fact that a group of 20 riders were up the road didn’t seem to bother anyone. Everyone was going for it, diving onto paths and off of paths, left and right, into gaps not really big enough to fit into. At 500M there was a gaping hole down the right side of the group but fear of death made me hesitate and it closed. I’m not a sprinter and I didn’t feel like dicing with death so I could come 40th instead of 60th.
Overall I was really happy with the race. Finishing in the top third of such a strong field tells me that things are going in the right direction. Through the finish line and I was handed a coke by the team soigneur and it was good! The Wobble was to be found at the other side of the fence with the Wanderly Wagon wedged between some men’s pro team buses – right where it belonged.
Cheers
Michelle
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