D -1
All week long I have been walking around nervously. My heart rate spikes at the slightest thought of what is to come and I cannot sit still for a minute. Ever since I returned home from my altitude training in Andorra, everything has been going fast. Of course, I have known for a long time that this day is coming, yet suddenly all the alarm bells seem to go off. ‘Am I going to be good enough?’ ‘Haven’t I taken it too easy after my altitude training?’ ‘How strong are the rest going to be?’ Unlike my Vuelta earlier this year, this time I have had time to prepare everything to perfection. So I really am ready, although my mind is only going to believe that after the first stage.
The day starts early with some easy spinning on typical Dutch roads. It exudes a kind of calm and charm. ‘Wanna sprint?’ asks Fauve defiantly. I go all out, keep Fauve behind me and even achieve a second all-time 5” value. ‘Thanks, Fauve!’ After the easy ride, we rush towards the centre of Rotterdam for some press and photo opportunities. It tingles in my stomach again. Everything seems so real, everything ís so real. A man proudly shows us the trophy the winner will receive at the end of the TDFF. Like a real tourist in some fancy museum, I take a picture of the yellow jersey that has been moulded into a translucent mass.
No less than three times we are expected in front of a camera. One demands a serious photo, another an enthusiastic victory move and the last one simply requires us to step forward. My journalist side recognises all the images from during the male Tour and makes my eyes twinkle even more. This is SO real all around. After lunch on the bus, we are expected in the building’s theatre hall. We are among the first to take our seats and are routinely surrounded by other teams. Shyly, I look around me as I see only big names.
Moments later, the presentation begins with a cool montage of the 2023 edition. That edition that I followed from the first minute to the last second with my teammates Fauve and Wilma on altitude training in Andorra as if we were watching a mega exciting series on Netflix. As a result, I still recognise every flash of the recap as if it was yesterday. From as soon as the video ends, I look to my left and right. Fauve and Wilma are now sitting next to me, on the eve of an edition in which we will just play a role ourselves. It seems like something unreal, but it’s real.
Stage 1 Rotterdam - La Haye (123 km - flat)
It is 5 a.m. I don’t have to get up at all yet, but I’m already wide awake. Ideally, I would just go for a run now, to whip out all the energy I have too much at this hour. Even my morning pulse cannot hide how excited I am for this day. Once on the bus, we soon arrive at the place where it will all happen soon. From the bus, the blinded windows barely allow me to see what is going on outside, but as soon as I take a step outside, I am amazed at what I see.
Besides our big number of staff and vehicles, my eyes can hardly believe how many people are staring curiously at our bus. Immediately I am asked for a photo, some friends come to say hello at length and suddenly Linde Merckpoel is also enthusiastically waving her Go Pro. ‘Mieke, we have to go!’ I suddenly hear behind me, and I am startled by the time that has passed while I was standing outside. In a daze, I jump on my bike, not yet fully realising how many things have just come at me.
Even on the way to the stage, there are rows of people waiting to catch a glimpse of the Tour circus. As ‘Lotto Dstny!’ echoes loudly through the boxes, we ride onto the stage. I still can’t believe my eyes. I stare ahead, looking straight into the depths of a sea of people. There is even a sign held in the air with my name on it, as if I am a pop star about to perform her first song on stage. After we have been introduced one by one, I ride down the stage again with a haze surrounding me. I hear my name and am asked for a photo or autograph.
When I want to make my way back to the bus, I am stopped in the press zone by Sporza. ‘Hi Mieke, your first Tour, are you happy to be here?’ 101 moments flash through my mind upon hearing that question. I am so impressed by everything I have just seen around me that for a moment I don’t know what to do with myself. Ideally, I would like to disappear from the globe and press pause, but I just can’t and there is a big spinning camera staring into my eyes. I can no longer hold back my tears and still try to make it clear to the reporter that I am incredibly happy to be here. I have come a long way, being allowed to be here at all is a victory in itself for me.
Even more under the delusion of what just happened, I return to the bus. ‘I just cried on national TV,’ I let out slightly embarrassed. It is hard to find the focus on the race. Normally I can walk off the bus without a boo or a hiss, now I have to think twice before I go out, because before I know it, I’m 10 minutes away again. The clock ticks down mercilessly to the start hour. My first TDFF is about to start for real.
‘C’est partiiiiii!’ The starting gun is fired to loud applause. During the neutralisation of no less than 11 kilometres through Rotterdam, I don’t know where to look. There are thick rows of people cheering everywhere. ‘Shit.’ I reflect after a few minutes. ‘I actually need to pee quite urgently.’ But it takes kilometres until I finally spot a free crowd-less, green space to take my chances. Afterwards, that place turned out not to be good enough for the jury after all, and I appeared on the fines sheet. 100 Swiss Francs poorer but one less overflowing bladder.
After what a bit too long city tour, we are finally let go by Marion Rousse waving her flag from the car. The first few kilometres fly by like lightning speed. I try to find my focus and move up, but it is only when teammate Audrey takes me into her slipstream that I can switch my mind and dare to claim my place in front. My confidence takes over more and more and I no longer allow myself to be pushed away from the first 3-4 rows of the peloton.
Jumping along is the plan today. But to my great surprise, hardly anyone seems to feel like it. The only mountain points to be earned today are literally at the exit of a tunnel and so seem to be the game changer for breakaways. I’m itching to give it a try myself, but I remind myself of the words that fell during the briefing: only jump along, the Tour is still long. When I do see someone taking going for a breakaway, I am just making my way back to the front after taking a water bottle. I curse and immediately pull myself up to jump after her, but I only see the low middle island that makes the turn much sharper as I approach a faint bend and so have to apply the brakes full force again. Gone opportunity.
Besides the many twists and turns, it is sometimes necessary to watch out for crashes. In the middle of a bridge, I suddenly see the peloton collapse like Jenga stones. Fortunately, no one from the team is there and we can continue our way safely. Secretly, I had expected it to be even more chaotic today. But of course you should never crow victory too soon. Towards the sprint, things are just not going as well as hoped. It is difficult to find each other among all the organised Worldtour trains and the speed is huge. After I can only narrowly steer clear of the falling head of a rider in front of me, the sprint is as good as over for me. Still, I ride over the line with satisfaction. The condition is good.
Stage 2 Dordrecht - Rotterdam (69,7 km – flat)
Early day today but for once I don’t mind. I’m wide awake again anyway and again eager to see what’s to come. Today we are doing a double shift, starting with a very short stage. With yesterday’s race in the back of my mind, I am anything but stressed. And my task is also quite simple: stay with Thalita and help her where necessary. Just like yesterday, we fly in from kilometre 0 like a gang of unruly bulls towards a red rag. I ask Thalita if she wants to join the front, but even before we can move up a first crash happens and we have to start chasing.
Once back at the tail end of the peloton, I try to bring Thalita to the ‘safer’ zone. We meander down dykes and for a moment I reflect that we are really lucky that the wind is not very strong today. I stay near Thalita like a real watchdog and proudly close the door when teammate Audrey attempts an attack. I watch it from the front row and immediately see that it is a good attempt: ‘No one responds Audrey, go go go!’ It looks like another great stage when suddenly a water bottle invades the peloton. The rider diagonally in front of me can no longer avoid the intruder and her front wheel flies into the air. Before I even realise it, she comes flying into me with a smack and I accompany her in her crash. ‘Shit!’
Shit because I’m on the ground and shit because Thalita was in my wheel at the moment of the crash. Hastily I look around me, but don’t see a second Lotto Dstny jersey on the ground. In the radio I hear Thalita say ‘Mieke crash!’, so she is okay. I immediately jump up and look around. ‘Where the hell is my bike?’ it turns out to be a few metres back. As I walk angrily towards my bolide, I check the damage sustained. My knee bleeds a little but seems OK and my hip hurts a little but my trousers cover the wound. Then I bring my elbow towards my eyes and quickly look away again. A giant bump confirms the pain radiating from my elbow.
‘That’s not good,’ I think to myself and try to get my chain back in place. But the chain catcher that should normally catch the chain is now blocking the passage. I can’t get it off and decide to wait for the support of the car which, because of the narrow dyke, can’t come to the rescue so quickly. Once I have a new bike, I observe the damage again. Everything still seems to move smoothly and even the gigantic elbow only seems to be doing dramatically from the outside. Though I do forbid myself to look at it anymore. Once the car reaches me, I calmly put myself behind it. But that composure quickly disappears when I notice the jury car signalling to ride on.
‘Why? I fell?’ Because of the long delay, I am nowhere near the tail of the cars and have the right to turn back. But the jury car continues to be difficult and I have to completely blow myself up to get back between the cars. ‘Merci beaucoup!’ I think angrily to myself. As we are already heading towards the final, the pace is barely dropping, so it takes all the effort in the world for me to make up for the time lost in the crash and rejoin the peloton, which in the meantime takes one roundabout after another. At each roundabout, I hope it’s the last one so I can finally move up a bit. But my Garmin only gives me stretches of 300-400 metres until a new bend or roundabout approaches.
I can’t do much more for Thalita, disappointed I try to hitch my wagon to the tail of the peloton for as long as possible. This should have been an easy stage.
Stage 3 Rotterdam (6.3 km - ITT)
I don’t have much time to grumble, because in the afternoon another time trial awaits us. One I was quite looking forward to beforehand. Short, not very technical and two bridges. But the crash has changed my mind. I feel my body needs to recover from the fall I just made, but I don’t have time for that. After a short shower with lots of Isobetadine and lunch in the bus, we leave for a recon of the trail. I feel every pit and bump under my wheels twice as hard with my elbow in the stirrups but try to keep my focus. By the second lap, everything goes a little better and I try to forget about the crash.
The warm-up goes well but not super. I make my way to the start zone where I find myself between a bunch of top riders. My heart starts beating faster but once I am on the start podium, I forget all my worries and stare straight ahead. ‘3, 2, 1…’ The typical start tone clocks me on my way. I try to stick to the pre-discussed wattages as best I can and Zico Waeytens guides me in a calm manner. Everything goes by so much faster and before I know it I reach the last kilometre. ‘I can actually go even faster,’ I think to myself. I focus on the white dotted line after the last faint bend and forbid myself to look ahead any more until I’ve crossed the line. I hear the crowd cheering in a blur along the side, but the white line is all I can see.
Once the time stops, I am a little surprised, ‘I really think I could have gone faster.’ I had started too cautiously, but my legs didn’t really seem to suffer from my fall and my chase after all. ‘Dju.’ But better to head into day three feeling like that than feeling bad. There is still so much to come!
Photocredits: Brecht Steenhouwer – Photonews
