The Sting Of Bad Luck
Flanders is one of those races where it still means something if you finish. The tiniest country roads, the unforgiving rough and stupidly steep cobbles, the blood sport fight to position yourself before the climbs, and don’t forget the weather if Mother Nature decides to show up. Actually, it’s one of those races where it still means something if you start and CCC-Liv started perfectly.
No doubt it was the best race we had done as a team. For the first 115 kilometres we had this amazing rhythm, operating like a well-oiled machine and then some. We were riding together, positioned well, Marianne felt amazing and so did I. To have everyone come together like that, it was just another level. We had the goods to pull off a win, we just needed the luck.
The final 30 kilometres is where the big bets are made. I knew we had the fire power to execute the final strategy but as we got together on the Kanarieberg (climb #6) someone switched my wheel. Somehow I didn’t crash and, after a quick foot down, I started to chase back. I wasn’t too far behind but there also wasn’t a lot of time before the next climb, the cobbled Taaienberg (climb #7), where the pressure would continue.
I didn’t have a choice: I had to go all in to catch the peloton or it was race over. I didn’t even have to think about making a decision, my legs were already powering across the gap and up the Kanarieberg.
Image: Jojo Harper
Now, I know Belgian roads. I’ve raced in Belgium for many years. I know the cobbles, the narrow roads, the road furniture, and the wide crack right down the centre of their concrete roads. I’m always aware of that crack. I know it’s there but as if two hands reached up and grabbed my wheels, out of nowhere my bike instantly came to a complete stop. My wheels were both perfectly stuck in that centre crack. Like walking into a glass door, it caught me so off guard I only realized what had happened after I hit the ground, slid across the road into the ditch, and came to a stop in stinging nettles.
Grazed and confused, I got up and back to my bike. The drivetrain was all messed up. I definitely needed a new bike but, after the big splits on the Kanarieberg, the team cars were too far behind. Everything had happened so fast that I could actually still see the bunch ahead. It didn’t matter what I had, I needed to go all in again if I was to get back.
Image: Oliver Grenaa
My body was stinging all over from nettles and road rash but my muscles were working. I got back up to speed and as I clicked into an easier gear as I hit the bottom of the Taaienberg, my derailleur went into my back wheel and fell off! “Ok, that’s it,” I thought with a sigh. With the odds so stacked against me, it was smarter to save my legs for the next race.
Up at the front Marriane wasn’t faring much better with a poorly timed puncture. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed; it really wasn’t our day. You can have the best legs and the best team on the day but to win a bike race you always need some luck or, at least, no bad luck. Still, we had finished one of the toughest Spring Classics and the magic of the first 115 kilometres made me believe at the next race our luck would change.
Discover more about Ashleigh’s home Rocacorba Cycling
Ashleigh Girona Cycle Tour
It’s the off-season but I’ve just finished a week-long five stage tour. It included lots of coffee stops, all my favourite roads, and a bunch of new friends. It was my inaugural Girona Cycling Tour that I hosted and it really opened my eyes to a new way to push women’s cycling forward.
The Girona Cycling Tour at it’s most simple was a cycling holiday but it’s part of a bigger vision we are working to achieve at Rocacorba Cycling. When it comes to tackling the complexities of women’s cycling, it took a long time for us to manifest something actionable but, after the tour, I knew we were onto something powerful.
It seems obvious but not every sport allows people of all levels to come together. Not anyone can join the Springboks for rugby or FC Barcelona for football but pro women’s cycling is a bit different. We have the ability to not just allow, but also to welcome supportive cyclists and fans into the process. By reaching out and making real-life connections with other cyclists/fans, we can access and strengthen the support we desperately need.
As in any new endeavour, I was excited but unsure of how the week would go. Would everyone get along? How could I make sure everyone felt included? Was the weather going to hold up? As the riders arrived, I saw they also had “new experience” jitters but as soon as we hopped on our bikes, all of our concerns melted away. There was a wide range of abilities, different experience levels, and different approaches to cycling but it didn’t matter. By the end of the week we were all happily physically tired but mentally energized.
That energy stayed with me. By taking down all the barriers and allowing people in during a simple cycling tour, I felt that I had made actual change! It seems small but I know everyone left with a sense of connection that will touch their relationship with women’s cycling forever.
The future of our sport is in connecting the dots, making deeper lasting connections, and doing that in as many different ways as possible whether that’s a minimum wage policy or a coffee with a new friend during a holiday tour. The beauty of women’s cycling is that it has the opportunity to be open and welcoming to different models and practices. There are so many different ways to advance women’s cycling and, with a multitude of attack points and an open mindset, everyone (especially professionals) can contribute to the growth and sustainability of our sport.
Click here to ride with me next year from 5th-11th October, 2019.
