Daniel Stewart (left) and Matthew Doyle on the start line in Kanegem yesterday (Photo: Rik Masil)
Belfast Boy Daniel Stewart has broken into the national junior set-up in recent times. But for the next few weeks he was swapped his East Antrim Audi colours for a Belgian team kit and some fast and furious racing on the local kermesse circuit, with the help of the Belgium Project. In this dispatch from his new base in Beitem, he offers some great insights in his first competitive outing.
I'm staying in Belgium until August 15th, hopefully in search of some good results and an education into their type of racing; a baptism of fire to say the least!
Matthew Doyle and I embarked on the journey to Beitem last Thursday. We were greeted at Brussels Airport by Rik Masil, one half of our welcoming host family. Sabien Himpe is the other. Both embraced their arrivals with open arms for which we were very grateful and relieved.
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My first race was yesterday, Sunday, at the GP Bart Verwilst-John Deere. I was shaking in the car journey down, more stressed than excited. Too many unknowns for my liking. How would I compare to my Belgian rivals? How is my form after all that suffering in the Junior Tour of Ireland? What would the race circuit be like?
Queuing up to sign-on, I tried to gauge if there were any Freds that I would be guaranteed to beat. Nope; none. All looked immaculate in their team-issue kit and matching bikes; with their Oakley's shimmering in the afternoon sunshine. This was worrying.
Matthew and I then attempted to find the 6.8km circuit that we would later be hurtling around. This was harder than we thought. The spectators around us didn't seem to be great with helping us foreigners!
It was 25 degrees on the start line and I, Paddy Irishman, was red in the face and sweating already compared to all the Belgians.
I started at the front and was swallowed into the bunch quickly. Very fast start. In my head I was thinking; 'Have to get back up there as soon as…'
But with narrow roads and 11 corners on the circuit, it was proving very hard to move up. It took me 15km, whereas back home it would usually take less than 500m and a brisk stamp on the pedals.
In Belgium, everyone seems to be a bit cheekier on the corners. I had guys on top of me coming into them who were in front of me on the exit.
But by the end of the race I was as brash as they were; too exhausted to care about niceties.
Then there was the heat; something a boy from Belfast isn't used to. I can't actually remember when my body experienced a temperature over 20, and I underestimated it.
Halfway through the race I felt my legs burn, with lactic and other metabolites. And I looked down to see the forlorn empty bottle in its cage.
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It was grabbed and chucked forcefully towards Rik at the roadside, who was greeted with a one-word roar; Drink! Fr Jack-style….
The next lap, with the help of a smooth exchange from Rik at 40kph, I had some liquids to guzzle on. I could feel my legs thanking me.
The drinking station was mayhem. There was a lap after lap argument when bottles were missed; it was pretty comical.
So I had gotten my bottle and my legs were recuperating; now to move up to the front again. It was easier than my first attempt, and there were then three laps to go. Perfect. Stay here til the finish and I will get a respectable result.
With two laps to go I was still in the same position. It was FAST. One team was chasing the break on the front; hard. But I could stay there. My pale, pasty legs were matching the power output of their macho, tanned ones. It gave me confidence.
With one and a half laps to go, the team doing all the damage stopped chasing. I later found out their man was in the break which they mustn't have known until very late.
I was well up the bunch now, and people looked at me to do some work. At first, I didn't oblige. Why should I do any work? I'm a one-man team, baking in the Belgian sun…...
They started shouting at me. For some reason that worked. I started to nail myself at the front. With 4km to go, I remembered my pre-race promised to do 0% of the chase.
I had let these Flandrians get to me; let them treat me like their slave. I was annoyed and frustrated. I ignored the shouting this time. A few stares of death would have to do; I wasn't starting any arguments in my first race. Make friends before enemies.
With 1km to go I was in a great position for the bunch sprint. The speed ramped up into a corner and I overcooked it. I was now riding in a muddy trench. Not good. I went from the front to the back of the bunch in one corner. That must be some sort of record!
Coming into the finish I was second from last in the main bunch; 45th of 57 starters.
My emotions were mixed. On one hand, I was disappointed: 'These guys aren't that much better than me, but they all beat me!'
But on the other hand I was satisfied thinking: 'These guys aren't much better than me, I can beat them!'
My next race is on Wednesday, in Peer (I think). It's supposed to go up to 27 degrees so I believe an ice bath warm-up will be in order. I will also make my debut for my guest club in Belgium, Team Gaverzicht-Matexi. Should be fun!
Catch you later
Daniel
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