Tales from the Peloton: Stavelot, Belgium

September 11, 2011, Stavelot, Belgium.

World Champ Tech takes its name and corporate icon from the UCI Amateur World Championships in Stavelot, Belgium on September 11, 2011. The UCI, or Union Cycliste Internationale, had announced the race date and location about a year prior after not holding an amateur world championship for almost twenty years. At the time I was convalescing from shoulder surgery following two hard crashes at the end of the season. I had just started a lengthy rehab process that took me off the bike and confined to the gym for months. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make the effort to come back and race at all. But, the opportunity to earn the right to wear the arc-en-ciel - the special rainbow stripped jersey awarded to world champions - on the 10th anniversary of the attacks on the twin-towers, stand atop the podium, and trade a star-and-stripes jersey of US national champion for a champion’s gold medal, was too alluring to pass up.

Stavelot is a town steeped in racing tradition and lore. Liege-Bastogne-Liege, affectionately known as la Doyenne, is the oldest of the monuments on the racing calendar, and was first raced in 1892. The traditional route starts with a lumpy ride from Liege down to Bastogne, then returns back to Liege through Stavelot taking in a series of tough, steep, legendary climbs including the Spineux (or Wanne), Haute-Levee, Rosier, Aisomont, and the mythical Stockeu. The Stockeu is Stele Eddy Merckx - Eddy Merckx Street - and named after the great Belgian Champion Eddy Merckx. The Stockeu formed the launch pad for each of his record five victories at LBL.

A monument to the legendary 525 race victories of Belgian Eddy Merckx greets riders at the top of the Cote de Stockeu

The Cote de Stockeu - Stele Eddy Merckx, or Eddy Merckx Street - is a fearsomely steep test for even the strongest riders.

The race started with cold, intermittent rain showers - it’s Belgium of course. I had taken the bronze medal in the time trial championships two days prior, and had won the Gran Fondo Charly Gaul in Echternach, Luxembourg the weekend before. I knew I had good form, but also knew I would have to play my cards wisely if I wanted to win against the top amateurs from across the globe. This is a race that every rider wanted to add to their palmares, and some riders might be willing to make a nearly superhuman effort in an attempt to win. Someone might just want it more than the others. I made a quiet promise to myself in the moments before the start that I would not shy away from making that effort if necessary.

The 2011 World Championships course was a mini Liege-Bastogne-Liege.

I tucked myself into the very back of the peloton as we rolled out of Stavelot toward Trois-Ponts, drenched in a wet spray off the riders in front. The opening 40 kilometers of the race were generally flat and prudence suggested saving energy before the tough climbing started. First on tap for the day was L’Ancienne Barriere. L’Ancienne Barriere was a long climb at just under five kilometers, but only moderately pitched with a 4.8% average grade. I snuck up the side of the peloton in the kilometer leading into the climb and slotted into about 10th wheel as more desperate rides forced a strong, steady tempo up the ascent. A quick high speed descent followed before a sharp left turn took the peloton onto the Cote de Brume-Sud. The Brume-Sud was a different beast: only a short 1.7 kilometers, but at an average of 8.1% with a middle pitch over 13%. The effort up the Brume-Sud splintered the peloton with two groups merging after the fast, twisty, technical descent into Trois-Ponts. More stragglers found their way back on the road to Spineux with the peloton splitting and reforming under a series of attacks. Finally a group of ten riders went clear and gained a 30 second advantage by the base of the Spineux. I went to the front to control the peloton and set a pace that would insure that the leaders were kept on a short leash.

Disaster nearly struck at the start of the wet, mossy, decent back into Stavelot. Overly exuberant riders raced past me at the summit of the Spineux, but went too fast into the first, damp, off-camber hairpin and slid off the road. I managed to avoid the carnage, and a series of other crashes as the road serpentined back into town. Unfortunately, disaster found me on the ancient pavé cobblestones next to the Abbaye de Stavelot - the rough stones had started a slow leak in my rear tire. I pulled over to the side of the road at the base of the Cote de Haute-Levee at the edge of Stavelot looking for the support cars, but the follow car peloton was still helping riders from the earlier crashes and nowhere in sight.

I had been staying in Stavelot with a former Belgian teammate, Lionel Syne. His house was just a few hundred meters away from where I had stopped. It was a typical Belgian day - cold, wet, and miserable. The race was quickly disappearing up the road. It would be so easy to abandon the race and slip away to a warm shower. Lionel (who was also racing) came upon me in this state and asked what was wrong. I showed him the flat, and he quickly offered up his wheel. He told me I was riding so strongly that I still had a chance. But the gap to the leaders had grown from 30 seconds to minutes by this point. It would take a heroic effort to catch the leaders, and if I put in that effort, I might not have enough strength left to attempt to win the race. But, I remembered the quiet promise I made at the start of the race to not fear the pain of such an effort, and it was a promise I intended to keep. After a quick wheel exchange, I set off in pursuit of the leaders

Mixed wheels - a front Zipp 404 and rear Mavic courtesy of Lionel Syne - following the wheel change on the Haute Levee.

The Haute-Levee is a long drag, steepest at the bottom, with a series of hairpins mid way up. I opened the throttles wide open in a maximal effort, and was steadily passing riders on the lower, steeper slopes. As I reached the false flats at the midpoint of the climb, near the famous Formula 1 race course at Spa-Franchochamps, I started to catch larger groups of riders. I was able to get a few moments of help from the occasional rider or two as I leap frogged from group to group. Finally, as I approached the peak of the climb, I saw another group perhaps a minute up - and it appeared to have the follow cars of the race referees and lead support cars following behind. The leaders were in sight!

After tip-toeing down another harrowing, wet descent on mossy roads, I approached the base of the Cote de Rosier. The Rosier is another moderate length climb, nearly a kilometer longer than the Haute-Levee, and a fraction steeper on average, though the maximum gradient is much less. I could clearly see the race leaders as I chased up the climb. By this point I had been chasing for nearly thirty minutes at a maximal threshold effort, and I felt my strength starting to ebb. I knew that if I didn’t catch the group soon, I might never regain contact. Over the crest of the Rosier I was tantalizingly close to catching, but someone in the lead group accelerated and they started to open the gap again. My legs were screaming out in protest from the pain of the effort, but I clawed my way back meter by meter, finally catching a bit of the draft off the follow-car peloton. The advantage of the draft was just enough that I could make the final surge to catch the leaders as they began the winding descent down to La Gleize.

The strain of a hard, lonely, solo chase up the Cote de Rosier is etched onto my face.

Now that I finally caught the leaders I had a brief respite that allowed me to finally grab a bit to eat and drink a bit to top up my energy for the final climbs, evaluate the remaining competition, and assess how much damage the chase had made to my legs. Amazingly, I recovered quickly with the massive effort appearing to have only a minimal impact on my form, and I felt better than I would normally expect after hours of hard racing in miserable conditions over five tough climbs. I was able to roll though with some of the other riders as intermittent rain showers tried to dampen our mood on the road between Coo and Trois Ponts. Finally we started the penultimate climb of the Cote d’Aisomont. Other riders seemed more anxious to press the pace, so I tucked in to the group to maximize my draft up the climb. The Aisomont was long at 5.1 kilometers in length, but only 4.7% average grade, and the pace fast enough that drafting provided a noticeable effort savings. At the top of climb we faced the same treacherous descent that had claimed so many riders to crashes on the first pass. I led down the descent back to Stavelot to insure the group avoided taking undue risks.

The calm before the storm - the top of the fearsome Stockeu awaits the riders.

At the base of the Stockeu I immediately went to the front and set a brutal, punishing pace. A former opponent used to describe this as “setting phasers to stun.” The plan was to enforce my will on the remnants of the peloton and dictate the pace up the climb. Towards the top I could evaluate my tactics and determine how best to beat any riders that were able to survive the assault. I poured on the effort as we wound our way up the climb, and I could here the breathing of other riders increase to deep, gasping breaths under maximal strain, then slowly fade away as they were dropped and unable to maintain the pace. I averaged 480 watts - nearly 6.8 watts per kilogram - for four minutes up the Stockeu. Most professional riders would struggle to make such an effort after hours of racing, and midway up the climb only two other riders were able to stay with me. Unfortunately, one of the riders was an old nemesis from racing in the United States - Michael Olheiser. We had raced for years against each other, and he frequently got the better of me because he was both really strong, and also quite thoughtful about when he applied his strength to win races. He increased the pace near the top of the climb, and his effort came close to cracking me as we passed the monument to Eddy Merckx.

Michael Olheiser setting the pace near the summit of the Cote de Stockeu.

The three of us tacitly agreed to a truce on the steep, rain-slick decent back to Stavelot, but even with the truce, they were willing to take greater risks on the descent than I was, and they opened a small gap as we again hit the old pavé cobblestones aside the Abbaye de Stavelot. Michael appeared to finally make a mistake by picking the wrong gear for the cobbles, and he bogged down as the ancient stones bounced and rattled our bikes. I slowly caught and passed him as we turned onto the final finishing straight to sprint to victory!

Champion du Monde!

Awaiting the World Champions jersey while wearing the Stars & Stripes on 9/11/11

September 11, 2011 - the day I reached the pinnacle of the amateur peloton - has always been a key source of inspiration for the design of the Bike+ app and World Champ Tech branding. The World Champ Tech company name was inspired by this day. The World Champ Tech Champion logo is modeled after the podium photo in the arc-en-ciel rainbow jersey.

— James

The 2011 UCI Amateur World Championship podium in the World Champion jersey.

The World Champ Tech Champion logo is modeled after the 2011 Amateur World Championship podium photo.

Hi-res photos © 2011 Sportgraf