The elite women rode their World Championship gravel race today – 135 kilometres.  I decided to take the train this morning from Leuven to the start in Halle.  An early beginning for me.

I’d heard that thousands of cycling fans would congregate today in Halle.  Would I see anything?  No matter, I’ll go anyway.

An hour of fields, homes and Brussels neighbourhoods eventually deposited me in Halle.  Off the train, I followed the crowd to Pozzosplein, a big square full of metal barriers, cyclists in their national colours, places to drink and eat … and countless fans of the sport.

My first stop was the race administration office.  A wonderfully kind man tried his best to trace out a route for me – train and bus – so I’d be able to cheer the riders halfway through the race, rather than just at the start and end.  He worked so hard for me!

Keeping in mind the approximate speed that the women would be doing, I’d have to leave Halle before the race started to catch them at the mid-point.  No thanks.  I decided to stay put.

I couldn’t get close to the start line so I wandered down the road.  And slowly the crowd thinned.  I picked a spot up against the barrier, at a place where the road curved.

Exactly at Noon, I saw fireworks explode where I thought the start line was.  The women were coming!

I wanted to take a photo from a good distance, enlarge it for this post, and then put the phone down in time to see Puck Pieterse swoop by.  (She’s my hero)

Here’s the pic.  Puck is the fourth orange (Netherlands) jersey from the left:

However by the time I lowered my phone, all I saw was the back of Puck’s head.  Oh well.

About fifteen minutes after the women set off, the next group to start was men age 50-54.  Getting near the start line was no problem this time.

Here’s what my neighbours looked like:

So fit!  Truly athletes.  I applauded them inside my hands.  The fellow next to me mentioned that he wasn’t all that fit.  I smiled.

Some of the guys chatted with their colleagues before the gun.  Some were intensely in their own world.  I loved them all.

I took the train back to Leuven, remembering a name from the World Championships website: the Ramberg.  It’s an extremely narrow cobbled climb in Leuven.  The riders would tackle it twice, the second time only about two kilometres from the finish line.

Could I make it in time to see the leading women climb the slope … twice?  Surely at least once.

I walked super fast from the Leuven train station, Google Maps jiggling in my hand.  But I was hungry – very!  Another estimated time of cyclists passing by was in my head but there was nothing in my stomach.  I kept looking for a bakery along the route – nope.

One block from where Google said the Ramberg was … sat a Carrefour Express – a grocery store.  Yes!

A warm spinach and cheese roll, a chocolate croissant and a Coke Zero made their way into my backpack.  I arrived at the top of the climb, where one of the police officers said “Stay back.  The riders are coming.”

It took twenty minutes, but he was right.  Here’s the evidence:

I stood in this spot for close to two hours, cheering everyone on two wheels.  (I saw Puck twice!) 

Allez!  Magnifique!  Well done!  Bravo!

What a thrill to see the cyclists blasting by me – both the elite women and the age group riders that started after them

I talked to my spectating companions in English or broken Dutch.  And finally I was all cheered out.

Tired but happy

I made it work

And I’ll do it again tomorrow … for the men

Probably not the train to Halle but definitely the Ramberg