It was another historic day at the Cyclocross World Championships, as Tom Pidcock became the first Brit to win the elite title. He rode away from everyone on the fifth of nine laps obliterating the field, frustrating the strong Belgian team, which placed seven riders in the top eleven, but only managed a third place, as the Dutchman Lars van der Haar sprinted ahead of Eli Iserbyt at the finish thirty seconds behind Pidcock. The first few laps Pidcock was swallowed up by the Belgians, but their superiority in numbers wasn’t enough to outdo his superior strength.
Pidcock put on a similar dominant performance at the Tokyo Olympics, winning the gold medal in the mountain bike race. The question now on everyone’s lips is “what’s next” for this twenty-two year old with such prodigious talent. He rides for the preeminent Ineos Grenadiers team. It has an abundance of strong Grand Tour riders, so there is no need to rush him to the Tour de France, though all know that is in the not too distant future for this phenom.
He well knows his talent, but always speaks humbly and with reserve when asked about his ambitions. Thus it came as a surprise that he prostrated himself on his seat in the Superman position as he crossed the finish line. Not even Peter Sagan has made such a gesture.
It was a disappointing two-medal day for the Belgians, as they only came away with a silver medal in the men’s junior race and were shut out in the women’s under-23 race, which the Dutch swept as the Belgians had the day before in the men’s under-23. The female Dutch orange armada put on another overwhelming display of power, winning eight of the nine possible medals in the three women’s races at the Championships, with their lone blemish the gold in the juniors taken by the Brit Zoe Backstedt.
The Brits could be very happy with their two gold medals along with a bronze in the men’s junior race that started the day”s action taken by Nathan Smith. The gold went to Switzerland’s Jan Christen.
I roamed the course during each of the day’s three races absorbing the bubbling pleasure of all those in attendance on another ideal sunny day with the temperature tipping sixty degrees. Some fans were wearing mere t-shirts. It was warm enough for some of the riders to attach a water bottle cage to their bike, including Pidcock, usually not a necessity in these races of less than an hour in cold temperatures.
When I saw him take a drink on lap six on the paved section of the course, it came almost as much of a shock as his Superman gesture. I hadn’t noticed water bottles on the bikes, so I glanced at every bike looking for bottles. Just a third of the thirty-six riders still in the race had a cage on their bike, some on the seat tube and some on the more traditional tube facing it. All but one of the cages had a bottle in it, one rider evidently already jettisoning his.
Among the spectators were racers who had ridden the day before, just blending in, only revealing themselves with a comment such as “I was just riding below my threshold. Whenever my heart rate went over within five of my max I’d let up a bit.” I overheard a father introduce his daughter to “this woman rode in the elite race yesterday.” During the podium ceremony for the elite men, someone recognized the silver medal winner in the women’s elite race the day before, Belinda Brand, perched on the shoulders of some guy, and started a “Belinda” chant that made her blush.
Even though the defending champion Mathieu van der Poel didn’t race due to injury, members of his fan club were in attendance. A couple of guys were wearing jackets bearing his name and that of his older brother, who has claimed Belgian citizenship, while his brother is Dutch.
The Belgians and Dutch weren’t the only ones with colorful costumes. An American emulated the Belgian ornamented helmet.
A few sported Uncle Sam costumes, such as the fan across the fence cheering on the under-23 women while a guy beside me clanged the traditional cow bell.
But there was no outdoing the Belgians who masqueraded in a multitude of guises announcing their allegiance.
In the hour between the junior and the under-23 race I took refuge among the couches in the Fayetteville tourism tent to get out of the sun. It had blue, pink, white banded wrist bands for the taking in support of transgenders and LGBTs. One woman was happy to take a couple saying, “When you’re on a trainer, there’s nothing better than a wrist band.”
The image of these riders giving it their all, particularly on the climbs, will be firmly implanted in my subconscious and ought to help propel me through the hilly terrain ahead to my next destination, Eureka Springs, for its Carnegie Library. In a race one always has the opportunity to make up ground on a climb. It seemed as if every rider accelerated a bit when they had to go up. That’s not so easy to do on a loaded bike, but it’s always satisfying to at least maintain one’s speed. It will be made a little more possible after witnessing so much of it this weekend. I will be channeling all their energy in the days to come, just as I do when following the Tour de France.
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