FINISH IN HOSPITAL

Written by: Marijn de Vries http://marijndevries.nl/

Translation: Martin / DZI

It is warm on the starting grid on top of the Mur de Huy. Might as well say: scorching hot. The sweat already tingling my head underneath my helmet. I slowly empty a bottle of thirst quencher and have a look around. What a cacophony.

Cameras flashing, spectators shouting out to some of the riders. Two helicopters above us create a pounding noise. The announcer keeps rambling on loudly in French. I pull my sweatshirt which is already sticking to my chest. A shadow flickers in front of the sun. I look up: the wings of a helicopter.

Five minutes until the start, the announcer declares. I feel my excitement growing. How will it go today? Are my legs up for the job? A question that's asked at least once before every race. Thruthfully, I can never answer that one. I first have to have gone in the 'red' three times, only then I feel if my legs are okay. Two minutes to go. One. We're off. Butterflies in my belly! We're off! The Flèche Wallonne - radical race - here we go! Finally!

Halfway into the race. The descents are super fast and sometimes bad. The long winter has caused craters in the road surface. In a faint curve in front of me, a few riders go straight ahead. There's nowhere to go, I go right across them while being launched into a meadow. I'm not even down yet and already back on my feet. Everything's okay. I pull my bike from the barbed wire and while I check if everything still works I notice my calve is bleeding. The barbed wire has pulled a few red stripes across it. A little further an Aussie lies in the grass and screaming of pain. But I'm already back on my bike and being pushed by the team mechanic: Go! Go!

The country roads are narrow, we're exactly in a tough section of the race. Climbing, descending, between the cars I'm a bit of a circus act. I have to get back to the main bunch. My Flèche Wallonne cannot have ended yet. I overtake small groups of riders that have exploded on the climb, all breathing heavily, and trying to get past the cars. There I see the back of women's butts. I'm nearly there. Just grind those teeth a bit more. C'mon De Vries!, I tell myself. I made it.

Taking a breather is out of the question. We're already at the turn to Huy, on wide open roads. Just a little while to 'the wall'. Trying to ride to the front of the pack, but still out of breath from my previous effort and before you know it I play second fiddle again. I start the climb in the second group. On the Mur the pack explodes. Everyone is alone on this steep climb.

On top I connect with the first group. At maximum speed we approach the penultimate climb. Not an easy climb, I know. One after another rider blows up. To my surprise the legs appear to be good enough to be able to join the better riders to the summit. Even better, I'm one of the first ones to arrive there.

Ten kilometers. One more descent. Then the finish on the Mur. I'm doing well! I think enthusiasticly. As one of the first I start descending. This is where i need to hold my position, flashes through my mind. I might finish really well. On the second bend I'm being cut off. I deviate and brake. The rider behind me can't avoid hitting me. Yelling, clatter. There we lie. I stand up immediately and see blood gushing from my elbow across my shoes and road. Then I feel the pain in my wrist. That doesn't feel right. Broken, sure of it.

I finish two kilometers from the finish. The hospital in Huy is a battlefield. Male and female riders are being escorted in constantly. A guy from Françaises des Jeux  with a knee more resembling a steak tartare. Hey, I hear Dutch. I see the orange-blue outfit of Rabobank. Carlos Barredo. He is in between a Garmin-Cervélo rider and a girl from the Australian selection. It takes a long time before the doctors can attend to me. Meanwhile our team leader Danny arrives, to my relief. 

My wrist gets X-rayed. Broken, indeed. Everything is still in its proper place though. My burst open elbow gets opened even further. Danny is a fascinated onlooker and reports, while I rather look the other way. Danny says things like: That doesn't look too great and there is quite a lot of dirt in there and I can see the bone. With every twitch I give the doctor wants to relieve the pain with a shot. No!, I say. Go on! Let's get it over with! Forty-five minutes later there are six stitches in my elbow. Completely covered in plaster, from armpit to fingers. And while we're here, the doctor puts five stitches in my calve to mend the cut sustained from the barbed wire.

It is still warm when I arrive at our hotel. Dried sweat sticks grainy to my face. My clothes are covered in blood. My team mates put me in the bath, wash me and dress me. I'm not allowed to see my bike by the mechanic. He points up and says: You might wanna thank them up there. Today you had an angel on your shoulder, you.