00:00:00 – Zadelpen kronieken / Seatpost chronicles
00:04:21 – Palmares
00:08:37 – Blikken / Medals
00:12:07 – Hoe kennen wij elkaar / How we met
00:14:25 – Klimmen / Climbing
00:16:13 – Alpe d’HuZes (Everesting 11.044hm)
00:26:03 – Donker / Darkness
00:27:49 – Strava Badges
00:29:45 – Gran Fondo Badges verzamelen / Collecting
00:33:19 – Friese Elfsteden Rijwieltocht
00:37:44 – Ooit afgehaakt? / Ever quit?
00:43:17 – Het Kopje 360x (Everesting 9746hm)
00:48:44 – 10x 20x 30x 40x 50x Elfstedentocht
00:50:56 – Badge suggesties / Suggestions
00:52:18 – Tips
00:53:31 – Voeding onderweg / Nutrition
00:55:58 – Vreetkick naderhand / Munchies
00:57:21 – Kleding onderweg / Clothing
01:00:17 – Praten onderweg / Talking
01:01:59 – Consistentie / Consistency
01:03:45 – Nachtrust / Sleep
01:05:57 – Slaapadres buitenland / Staying abroad
01:07:46 – Regen en sneeuw / Rain and snow
01:11:43 – Rapha Festive500
01:14:26 – Schaats Elfstedentocht
01:20:46 – Styrkeproven
01:22:31 – Tour de Mont Blanc
01:26:46 – Slechtste Gran Fondo / Worst Gran Fondo
01:28:57 – Mooiste Gran Fondo / Best Gran Fondo
01:32:10 – Samen / Together
01:33:45 – #Thuis11
01:36:38 – Heer in het Verkeer / Gentlemen in Traffic
01:37:42 – Aftiteling / Credits
https://www.maratona.it
https://www.rad-marathon.ch
https://www.opgevenisgeenoptie.nl
https://www.riderman.de
https://www.rondevanvlaanderen.be
https://www.paris-roubaix.fr
https://www.fietselfstedentocht.frl
https://www.frieslandbeweegt.frl/winterfiets-elfstedentocht.php
https://www.amstel.nl/amstelgoldrace
https://content.rapha.cc/eu/en/story/festive500
https://www.strava.com
https://www.zwift.com
https://www.haarlemsdagblad.nl
https://lc.nl
https://www.ad.nl
https://www.omropfryslan.nl
https://www.gld.nl
Have you put the walker away? -Yes. Seat Post Chronicles Long way to go to Bolsward. A story about dykes A story about dykes, derailleurs A story about dykes, derailleurs and sûkerbôle Cycling is the most beautiful way to move around. On foot or in a car… …you’re either too slow or too fast.
You’re getting nowhere. Or you zip past everything and don’t see a thing. On a bike, however: perfect speed. The best thing about cycling together is… …getting in touch with the landscape together and really see a chunk of the country. Life is more than just cycling, but cycling is also a metaphor for life…
…in which you share an experience. Fun has top priority. What we saw was mainly a group of lads who wanted to do a cycling tour each year. Of course, you set goals and want to give it your best. The most important thing is that you come together and do something as a group.
Cycling with friends [1] pal [2] ally [3] loved one ~ they were friends 1.1 ~ they kept each other out of the wind The best thing about Gran Fondo’s is that you see each other again. Even if you haven’t seen each other in a while…
…that you start off right where you left off. The thing I enjoy most is being together. Riding out together. Go on adventures. Everyone experiences a tour differently. Each has his own tale to tell. That’s what I like about cycling. Cycling together with friends and especially with these friends…
…always takes me from my comfort zone, because it always goes too fast for me. And I always have an event to work towards, basically. And there are very few tours with this group that I look back on like… Oh, that was just normal… That was a breeze…
…and then we came home and everything was just fine. It’s almost always an adventure. You’re in the outdoors, you see a lot, and you have the time to… …do something fun and useful with your friends. It’s a great way to maintain your friendship without…
…having to just stare at each other in a bar. It’s just fun together and there’s enough time to joke around with each other. Especially when we do the Elfstedentocht (Eleven Cities Tour), for instance… …there are quite a few people to cheer you on and help you go that extra mile.
Or to make sure that others make it to the end. I often cycle by myself to empty my mind. and I mainly cycle with friends during the Elfstedentocht. But everyone there is so much faster than I am that in the end I’m cycling by myself again.
So, I don’t cycle very often with my friends. Sometimes I see them, far away. But can I say I really cycle with them? No. I almost never cycle actually and when I do, I try to cycle with Nout. That means long tours and uphill. Yeah, it was great. Very great.
The greatest event of the year. For me, there are two holidays: Sinterklaas and cycling. A beautiful and fun way to discover the world. Amazing. 2014 was the first year Strava featured those Gran Fondo badges. That used to be 150 km, I think.
For me, the best Gran Fondo’s were the ones with remarkable events or important talks. A flat tire? Yes, that means you’re all repairing that flat tire together. Those are the best conversations you can have. Just six people changing a tire in the meadows… …while twenty cows are slowly approaching. Lovely.
To me, those Gran Fondo’s were about more than just cycling for a bit. If you look at what Strava requires for you to get that badge, it’s that distance. I’ve done tours of that distance that didn’t feel like… …a Gran Fondo to me. The challenge is not knowing whether you’re fit enough…
…and at that moment you check: In what shape am I now? Especially in Gran Fondos you do each year, you can compare years to each other. I really like to test myself that way. There should be a certain experience beforehand already. It shouldn’t be…. Oh yeah, we’re just going for a bike ride.
It should be something to drive you on, to do something you might not accomplish otherwise. The most beautiful thing to me is doing a tour which really challenges myself. The distance which you cover before you reach your limit should be bigger each year. That makes it so difficult, that the more you train…
…the more difficult it becomes to keep those Gran Fondos challenging. So, where does it end..? A thousand-kilometre tour each month? Then, after a while you can do that and then you’ll do 2000-kilometre tours. For me, it should feature a little adventure, I guess. That’s why we combine it with nice events nowadays.
Whether it’s in my country, abroad or monuments… …like the Tour of Flanders or tours we made up ourselves, like the Sjaak&Nout Classic. That makes you go the extra mile. The Gran Fondo is the reason to do it, the starting point. But whatever you do, it should be something special.
The distances should be vast. A beautiful summit. It has to be tougher, it has to be higher. Cycling on location, cyclo-crosses, spring classics. Flanders, Roubaix, Amstel Gold, Liège-Bastogne-Liège. Or something like that. In that area, in any case. The province of Groningen is the perfect province to do a Gran Fondo.
I like to cycle in summertime and run in wintertime. In summertime it’s too hot to run, so I go cycling to get some headwind. I just cycle when I feel like it and I run when I feel like it… …but I don’t always feel like it. It’s the weather that makes…
…it more impressive than just a bike ride. I prefer to cycle with nice weather, but then, who doesn’t? But if the weather is bad, you just press on and get the job done. You don’t give up halfway because it’s windy out… …or because it’s cold. Because it’s raining.
No. We’re sitting outside now as well… …it’s raining. I’ll keep sitting here. It needs a little more than just covering that distance. I feel it should truly be a good story. I never do Gran Fondos alone. I always cycle with friends. I’ve been rowing since 1999 so most of these guys…
…have been my buddies for 24 years already. To me, that’s the best thing about the Gran Fondo. I try not to make a habit out of it. It’s all about how much fun cycling in a group is. The camaraderie and being together and all that. That’s all true. And it’s all good fun…
…unless you’re the slowest in the group, then it’s not always fun. Especially not if you start in Amsterdam. I was actually already beat before we even left Amsterdam. Of course, I knew after ten kilometres which way this was gonna go… …I was actually the one who wanted to call it quits.
Nout came next to me, put his hand on my shoulder… “Bart…” “I think it may be best if we go our separate ways…” “Yes! I thought you’d never say so.” So you guys cycled on. The wind was blowing really hard. After 88 kilometres I already thought…
…I’ve had it with this. Why would I go on? I’m cycling by myself. Who am I doing this for? That’s a question I often ask myself: Who am I doing this for? Why am I in a train in the middle of nowhere?
Tins [1] sheet steel [2] biscuit container [3] medals ~ they earned a lot of tins 1.1 ~ often used term in the rowing sport No, I’ve never done the Elfstedentocht. Way too cold. I did do it on ice skates. -Then it was cold too.
Then it was cold. But ice skating warms you up nicely. 26 February 1986. I was having second thoughts. So I left home early and then I saw the sunrise while it was 14 below zero in IJlst. It was a religious feeling of: I’m so blessed to experience something so beautiful and grand.
It was just cosmic. Yes, wonderful. I remember Norway. We started at 11 PM, in the dark. We started to climb, not steep, but a long climb. A long way across a plateau. It was night-time for us, but the midsummer night was short. Cold. Below zero. At the end of that plateau…
…we descended and reached the valley. At a certain time, the sun crested the edge of the valley… …you just heard this sigh course through the group. A kind of shiver. Daybreak finally. What do you call this? A ribbon? You used to get these for a hockey tournament, these ribbons.
I don’t think there are many of these. This ribbon of the Sjaak&Nout Classic. Yes, it’s quite special. Of course, it’s quite nice, cycling, but… …I’m actually more of a runner. I did semi-marathons. Egmond, Amsterdam several times, The Hague. De Berenloop, Terschelling. I’ve done the full marathon five times.
This is running and this is cycling. Berlin. Zevenheuvelenloop. City Pier City. Amsterdam Marathon. The best one: The Winter Elfstedentocht last year. I did that one alone. You have to make it fun. This is at the Everesting attempt. We made this joke about what time you…
…do which climb, and how you are doing at that point. This is of course fun for yourself. Professional runners often have this on their handle-bar. Eat this, do this. We made that as well. Yes, there it is. The most difficult climbing challenge in the world. Looking for heights.
Nice that Andy van Bergen has created a tradition… …for people who are so mad that they keep cycling up and down the same mountain. The Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix. My goal is to achieve many of those monuments in my cycling career. The Flemish countryside rather reminds me of the Northern Netherlands.
Empty, straight roads leading into the distance. Except there are really tough hills sometimes, with troublesome Belgian blocks. It’s a bit Drenthe times ten. On a logarithmic scale. And those hills with inclines up to 20%. Paterberg, hell on earth. But it’s also wonderful to do those tours.
How have we met [1] to be familiar with [2] friendship [3] to have a connection ~ they had a team connection 1.1 ~ under the umbrella of mum & dad-Aegir Unless I’m forgetting someone… …I’m still the only one who doesn’t hail from Groningen.
I went looking for a sport I could do with others, without the use of a ball. I ended up rowing, because name two sports… …besides simultaneous ski jumping…. …and perhaps synchronised swimming. My choice became rowing. Of course with the best rowing association, Aegir. All the people who row there are fun people.
And if someone has never rowed, then he doesn’t know what he’s missing. Competitions every fourteen days on the Bosbaan. Two seats, mommy and daddy Aegir. I sat on the chair while Mels did the coaching. I was more of a rowing consultant. I liked to spectate, and oddly enough they had questions…
What did you think? Do you have any tips? I had a fold-up bike and I really liked it. Start finish, that’s no less than four kilometres if you’ve followed a number. You get to know the old Hoetjer beside the track. And Jannes.
We were oh so busy by the finish line and Mels was nicely on his bike. We got to know all those boys well during those many years. We even got our own parking space from the municipality. I think it comes from rowing, which I’ve also always experienced as a team sport.
When Niels sat in a four-man. Of course always with your parents on the Bosbaan. And he said: “Hello mom and dad.” And we became very close with them. I had been rowing for some time and then I didn’t do any sports for a while. I tried running for a bit.
But when I started to cycle, it turned out to be a match made in heaven. And then the boys started cycling. It turned out to be maybe the best thing there is. Yes and there were more boys who liked that too. So it started to grow that way.
They always were my kids and they’re still my kids. So much fun! Climbing [1] to go upwards [2] mountain roads [3] inclination ~ the inclination was 8 % 1.1 ~ hard to do together It basically means that you struggle for a long time by yourself.
Last year a couple of us travelled to France to do the Alpe d’Huez. That was the first time I climbed a true Alp. At the start of the climb you need to let each other go. It’s harder to cycle together then, because one person goes…
…faster or slower than the other and you want to keep your own pace. My problem is that I choose a fixed speed and then keep cycling mindlessly. Sometimes I lock onto Tom. I end up regretting that for the rest of the day. I’m so hard-headed that even during my best moments…
…I keep pursuing people, just to keep on talking to them. And then the other guy, who is having a hard time, is thinking… dude, I cannot talk to you right now. What do you want from me? But when you cycle together, you cycle together. So, you wait for each other on the summit.
By the time Nout reached the top, I was usually ready to move again. When you reach the summit, that feels good. And the descent is a nice reward. You take the descent together, and find each other again in the valley.
We keep an eye on each other in the plains. -And then we press on to the next climb The Kopje van Bloemendaal, Cauberg, an Italian road or whatever. VAM Berg. The best climb for me… What’s it called? De Klif at Oudemirdum?
As soon as you reach the summit there, you’re rewarded with the best view of the Netherlands. You can see the IJsselmeer, you can see the windmills… …a part of the Noordoostpolder. It’s a wonderful place and you want to take it in. But those cyclists always want to press on.
So, then I lose the group again and I’ll be cycling by myself. Alpe d’HuZes (Gran Fondo) [1] France [2] 1097 m of elevation gain per climb [3] Charity Ride KWF ~ quitting is not an option 1.1 ~ both for cyclists and runners
I waited for a few years before I took part in Alpe d’HuZes… …because I was a bit concerned that each story would be sadder… …than the last and that it would all be a bit overwhelming. What I liked most when I finally did it was that… …that’s not the atmosphere at all.
Everyone’s just busy pushing their boundaries. That may be going up once, six times, seven times or even ten times. But everyone tries to find their own limits. Nout and I were at the Elfstedentocht, at Mels’ and Lies’ place. And Bob just returned from the Alpe d’HuZes.
He had done the Alpe d’HuZes three days earlier. On Thursday and then he was at Mels’ and Lies’ place on Sunday. And he was telling how impressive it had been. Bob worked for the KWF (the Dutch Cancer Society). And Bob made it here at turn number seven.
My kids were there, and Dorien, my wife. You can hear the sound approaching from afar. It really grips you. It goes well. You just keep doing what you can. How lovely it is to see footage of people who are so happy… …to meet each other on that godawful mountain.
We all have a personal story about people close to us… …who have or have had cancer. Who have died from it. Then, Nout and I agreed to go to Alpe d’HuZes next year. I heard of the plan that Nout and Jorn wanted to go Everesting…
…or they wanted to make a couple of climbs during the Alpe d’HuZes, at least. This was really something I wanted to take part in. Both Nout and Jorn are two people who when cycling in groups… …take a very fatherly/brotherly role, I feel. I thought: this is great. I want to be there.
I want to take part in this I already envisioned a facilitating role for myself. So, if we do the Elfstedentocht first, then we have to go there. They have to recover, sit down and not have to drive. So I’ll drive the car.
I secretly dream of that, to be a director of sports somewhere… …or a super soigneur, I immediately recognised that role… … and I jumped on the opportunity. That first time was the most impressive. It was still quiet, still twilight. It’s dark, actually, you start in the dark and you finish in twilight.
I really had a lump in my throat. I thought it was a very special event to remember loved ones, to honour them. A lot of grief comes up at a moment like that, but at the same time many beautiful memories.
And there is a lot of space to share everything you wish to share… …to ask what you wish to ask. The sadness doesn’t dominate and that’s what I liked so much… …that it wasn’t like I feared it would be… …flaunting that sadness. On the one hand you’re so focused on yourself…
…because you have to go up that Alpe d’Huez. Alpe d’Huez is a tough mountain. I made four climbs that day. Aside from the event and everything we’d experienced beforehand… …it was truly special to experience a true climb like that.
Also because I had always wondered if a climb like that was right for me. But it was magical. Especially when I reached the summit and then went back… …and climbed back up with Nout and Tom. Just a little bit. It was great to experience it like that.
Nout, Bob and I were cycling, the three of us. That was the last climb Bob did. Do you come here more often? -Yes, about six times before. Then we cycled, three of us… …three buddies, onto the finish line. The audience was clapping.
Bob was in tears. -At the end of a tour like that… …anything can make me cry. An orchestra can shake me particularly. That’s partly due to the exhaustion. Before we left the Elfstedentocht I had a brief conversation… …with Frederike, the wife of Nout and she basically said…
“Keep an eye on him and make sure he finishes.” The subtext was: “Pull him off that mountain if things go wrong.” During the day I had my own rest area with a cooler. Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the start.
It’s warm at the start. For the sprinters it’s a nice warming up. They return from the climb exhausted and cold. They go faster than the speed of light and don’t have time to warm up. We’re at the basecamp. This is Tom’s crate, bag, pasta, opened pasta.
This is Nout, bag two with new clothes. We’ve completely emptied bag one. Currant buns. Don’t forget, ladies and gentlemen: I’m also going up there in a bit… …after a long day in the heat. It’s gonna be great. If you have more requests, then feel free.
I secretly enjoyed it when people said: “you guys take it too seriously”. Sure, he goes up eight times. Great. We already assumed beforehand: Nout is going to finish this. Then it started to grow dark and I realised only late… …oh yeah, I have to go on until 3 AM, of course.
We’ve worked towards this goal all day and in the weeks before as well. We quite seriously looked at nutrition schedules and prepared things like that. That was great in that moment. The day is rather long and it becomes dark… …you secretly become a little tired yourself. But it also becomes a little fragile.
But also honest as a result. It’s dark and the only thing there is a lad on a bicycle… …who for reasons obscure to the outside world wants to go up yet again. That’s where that boy will appear shortly. And even though I’ve never found that within myself…
…I did feel like I contributed something to it, just by being there. I rather felt like a roadie for a rock band… …who also brings a bit of the shine with him. So, what do you do during that 1.5 hours of climbs and descents?
Well, you go back to the lodge. Just hang around on the couch. You all get a silly mood, which adds a little atmosphere to the whole thing. I would almost say it’s like a kind of sepia filter thrown across it. You go back and basically know precisely at what time he’ll arrive.
And yet, you go there a half hour in advance, because you don’t want to be late. Then you wait around in the car for a bit. We could’ve gone 15 minutes later…. Yeah… He’d return. Five minutes of interaction. And then it’s back to the lodge, hanging on the couch.
We’d joke around for a bit, and then we get back up there. Ladies and gentlemen, the shaman of the Lepelaar: Reinout Wallis de Vries. The Miracle of Makkum. Look at him, folks. The lights. -Clip in. It’s in and there we go. Adieu. Ladies and gentlemen, for his last climb. -One thousand watts.
Make some noise. It really feels like, that those years of top sport… …Yes, he’ll make it to the finish line. Until the three of us were in the car driving up there… …and we were discussing: during that last climb…
…if we think it’s not longer wise to go on, are we going to take him off that mountain? We decided to overtake him and waited for him in a bend. We had agreed there: Okay, if he passes by here… …and we feel like it’s not safe anymore, we’ll talk to him.
I think he saw this coming, because he cycled towards us… …and then he made another bad joke… …and kept pressing on like a stubborn toddler. That was when we said: “if he can still make these jokes…” But on the other hand: we know he makes these jokes…
…to show us that he’s still doing fine. This is it, Nout. -Turn buoy. Nout… Italian quality… Well, youngsters. -Nicely done, boy. What would you like to tell the folks back home? -First of all, I’d like to thank you three. Great. I couldn’t have done it without you guys.
That last one was for you, Lies. You can always press on a little more. Thanks to all the sponsors. It was wonderful. Great, thank you. I do have to say that the afterparty was an anticlimax. That footage you see of people rowing across oceans and are then picked up…
…No, it was done at 3.30 AM and done meant done. Yes, it’s done. He ate a bucket of ice cream and went straight to bed. It was an inglorious ending. Darkness [1] lighting level [2] night [3] seasonal ~ there was darkness 1.1 ~ they had to ride using lamps
Shortly before dawn, when you’re cycling towards the light… …Yes, I love that. I get nervous cycling in a peloton, especially in the dark. I remember when Jorn was behind me and got so frustrated with me… …that he said: “Sjaak, stop braking, would you?” I felt… Sometimes you guys went off into the darkness…
And we thought: poor guys. Yes. -Yes. It is charming, of course, but I’m always glad when the sun crests the Frisian horizon. Then at least you can see something. Mountain tours, big events, often an early start. Descents in the darkness, like at the Tour du Mont Blanc.
On a poorly kept road, where everyone’s lamps rattled off. It rather adds flavour to the experience of cycling. It shrinks the world. It narrows your focus, especially when you’re cycling in a group. That sunrise while you’re cycling, that’s quite impressive. I like to finish in the daylight. That darkness setting in…
…was very difficult, I felt, those times I experienced it. The first time we went Everesting on het Kopje, I was even sad about the dawn. Your biological clock, because the light sets in… …makes you feel like: Oh, it’s time to wake up,
But then when darkness sets back in, by the end of December around 4 PM… …your body thinks: I am rather tired. It’s time to go to bed. No, you can’t go to bed yet.
Strava badges [1] motivating [2] challenging [3] monthly ~ they kept going a little further 1.1 ~ the Strava badge motivated them I like that Strava has levels and things you can earn. I feel that Strava is a really beautiful app… …which allows you to cycle against yourself and against others.
When I cycle and there’s a challenge, like “cycle this many kilometres this month”… …then when I approach that point, I think: I might as well do this too. I like that they also have badges for semi-marathons… …for full marathons, ten kilometres, five kilometres. I’ve collected quite a few of those.
I see it in our kids, who want to collect Pokémons. We wanted to collect Flippos when we were kids. We like to collect all sorts of things. You get some extra kudos from your mates. Especially when other people do nothing. It’s great to make them jealous with your achievement.
It’s starting to get a little bit out of hand, though. Nowadays you can literally get a badge for anything. It rather tarnished the way I viewed these awards. That Monthly Distance Challenge encouraged me. I apply for the annual Festive500 badge. The Climbing Challenge, it’s a difficult one in the Netherlands.
When the COVID-19 pandemic broke out, Strava lowered the threshold, fortunately… …so that you can also do Gran Fondos using Zwift. The police didn’t let people ride outside anymore during the lock-down. Then the Basecamp arrived in the Everesting scene… …rounded up, five times Alpe du Zwift. That’s a distance of 120 km.
So, you tick off a Basecamp in the Everesting Hall of Fame… …and the Grand Fondo badge in the Strava Hall of Fame. Everything that encourages people to get on a bike, that motivates them to exercise. Really great. And this works, we know that.
Collecting Gran Fondo badges [1] 120 badges in total [2] ten years [3] collectors ~ ticking off badges 1.1 ~ globally only 945 people got all of them in 2014 Do you have all of them? How many would that be? I’ve got 58, right now. 20 Gran Fondos, often accidentally…
…when I wasn’t planning to get one. I was just cycling and got another badge. I did do a Gran Fondo on purpose once… …but that was actually harder than doing it accidentally. I’ve never felt the urge to do them every month. But in the months that I cycled, from March-April until…
…maybe around October, I did try to achieve them. I think I’ve nearly got all of them. In the first years every month, I think, so 40 or 50. So, how often have we cycled together? Those are all of my Grand Fondos. Then maybe two or three times without you. Eight or ten?
When it started in 2014, I think it was Joep or Jorn… …who told me: Oh guys, Strava has got a new badge, the Gran Fondo. Let’s do it. Only that first year I tried to tick off a Grand Fondo every month. That was around 130 or 150 kilometres at the time.
Being on a bike for at least five hours, that’s rather going that extra mile. Jorn and I were really eager to do it. I’m not the kind of person to tick off the Grand Fondo every month. Why would you? It’s nice to cycle great distances, but it shouldn’t be a goal in itself.
By the end of every month, I tick the badge… …to see if I’m going to do it. Then I’ll be reminded the whole month that I haven’t done it yet. Then, suddenly you think: Ohh, I still have to do it, and then you don’t manage.
Like when you go on vacation and you can’t bring a bike with you. I received this. The physical badge we received by the end of 2014 because… …we had done all the Gran Fondos of that year. Then, by the end of 2015, we received a black envelope, containing a letter from Strava.
I get nervous again just thinking about it. In a community of motivated cyclists, who strive to achieve great goals… …your completion of all twelve Gran Fondos stands out… …as one of the greatest achievements we’ve seen in 2014. I’m so proud of that. Now and then I find it again and I think…
…yes, that was a wonderful time. That was a wonderful year. This datasheet accompanied it. The fastest Gran Fondo in 2014 was 130 kilometres in less than three hours. The longest Gran Fondo at the time was 750 kilometres. In total, there were 135,022 athletes, of which only 0.007 % managed to do all twelve.
That means only 950 in the whole world. My question to Strava is: how many people have completed those ten years? I’m someone who can cycle a whole lot, and I’m very passionate about it… …but I also think from time to time: now I’ve had enough for a while,
And I’ll literally put my bike in the shed and not touch it for a year. I’ve done about 10 to 15 Grand Fondos, I think? And then there were a few I just didn’t manage. I came home after 93 kilometres and thought: that’s too bad.
But then I don’t feel like pressing on anymore either. Is it possible that you did a Gran Fondo every time you did the Bosbaan race? Then I would’ve done 25… Well, oddly enough I might’ve, but I never realised it. It didn’t exist back then either.
Perhaps the Gran Fondo exists because I made so many runs there. Frisian Elfsteden Cycling Tour (Gran Fondo) [1] Friesland [2] 235 km [3] starting point Bolsward ~ it’s a long distance tour 1.1 ~ time limit: finish before 11.59 PM
All the colours. You also get a cross with one of the cities on it. This one is Harlingen. I didn’t even take it from its packaging. The Elfstedentocht overnighter in Makkum has been a great success from the start. It doesn’t get any better.
To stay with the sweetest people in the world, with such a fun group of people… …to be together, to eat together. To see everyone again, to sleep very little. We have a sort of reunion every year at the Elfstedentocht. Perhaps it matters even more that we’re together there…
…than that we do that tour, really. 22. Cyclists. Perhaps I’m the odd one out, being a runner. And also being a rower. I went away for a couple of years and then I came back again… …and you notice there are certain things you can fall back on
Allowing you to simply assume your role in the group again… …as if nothing changed. It’s like a homecoming. Of course, we’ve been doing this for 15 years… -It’s just magnificent. I never have that with any of the other Gran Fondos. Even though you burn 10,000 calories there…
…I always come back heavier than I went. The hot food was pots full of pasta sauce… …and then a box of pasta. Those little round shells. It was easier to check whether they were done. They ate plates like this. Chairs were carried outside. Coats, sleeping bags… It got so cold.
Then came the photo competition. -If I remember correctly, we got… …a mule driver from Cuba, or something, in a cycling suit. It wasn’t just a bunch of guys cycling together, there was also a lot of fun to be had. In that setting, you also talk a lot to each other around the event.
It was always very open, very sportsmanlike. I enjoy that. Being an old race rower, I have to say… …I like the camaraderie a lot. To me, it feels like a second home. A lot of beds, a few loose mattresses, good air mattresses. It was always rather easy-going. And friendly folk.
The vibe was always that everything was possible. Sometimes I am there to serve as support personnel. Whenever I have a slight injury. Butter, toppings, suikerbrood. And then we went outside. The best thing was when… …they sang the Groningen anthem and then we waved. It was dark. Sometimes there were…
They hadn’t even taken the corner or one came back with a flat tire. I once did the Elfstedentocht twice on the Pink Maccina city bike. With only a few gears. To me, that’s way more epic than an 800-gram carbon bike.
When I was still in good shape, I could ride along with the peloton. At one point you have to give up, because you’re dragging along twenty kg of steel. Fortunately someone was even slower, Jorn Douwstra. I ended up as his windbreaker for about thirty kilometres.
Then he had eaten his fill again and he said: “Thanks Sjaak!” And off he was, again. In the afternoons they needed food as well. We made sure we were in Bolsward an hour in advance. Everyone would lie down. We brought umbrellas. Against the heat or the rain. Everyone rested for a little.
Probably around twenty minutes. And they were off again. The last two years we ate at Boris’s parents. It was great! There was coffee, tables and comfortable chairs. Life is so good in those moments, that you believe it all happens for a reason.
This all adds up to a very warm group of people, and that’s what you look forward to. Everyone finishes it. That’s always a great weekend.
Ever quit? [1] to not complete [2] to give up [3] to cease with a bad habit ~ my father quit smoking 1.1 ~ many cyclists quit due to heavy rainfall I once quit in Harlingen, and that was actually Niels van Riel’s fault. Niels needed someone to find the way back.
So I went with him. It was actually my tenth time, so I wanted that pin. It was raining for 24 hours, and also the 24 hours before. So we weren’t really motivated, thinking… …the sun will be out again tomorrow. Full of courage, or actually quite lacking in courage.
I went to Makkum, I slept there. The rain was pouring all night. Surprisingly enough it was dry for a few minutes… …literally when we were singing the Groningen anthem in front of the house. We rode off, and it started to come down again. Bob Schipper got a flat tire right around the corner…
Before the first checkpoint I took a left to Makkum. I was having coffee and breakfast again at 6.30 AM at Lies’s place. Doing the Elfstedentocht on a bicycle, I really liked that. I did it ten times in total. The funny thing is, cycling is really addictive.
I had told myself then: I’m done with it. But the eleventh time – it just happened – I’d made my sandwiches again. Your car, your bicycle. I always do it alone… …a tremendous difference with the teams that stay over with us now. And in Bolsward…
…it started raining in a way you don’t want to experience. At the first checkpoint in Harlingen… …back then you still took a cardboard card from your back pocket… …which had turned to mush and could barely be stamped. Then I thought: Mels…
…Now you have to be consistent. Didn’t you say that ten times was enough? And so I rode back home via Winsum. It bothered me all day. You’re interrupting a build-up that matters. Have I ever cancelled anything last-minute? An entire day of Liège-Bastogne-Liège in the pouring rain. It wasn’t a fun time.
Trois Ballons, up to my belly in a puddle. Sjaak&Nout Classic. It was raining half the day, but still we went. I almost cancelled once because of material troubles. Two flat tires in short succession. Then I walked back along De Ringvaart.
I had no more spare tires at home and I still had to ride for another thirty kilometres. I did the last thirty kilometres on a city bike. In the end I still earned another badge. The Gran Fondo which I didn’t finish was the Tour du Mont Blanc.
That was 6,000 metres of climbing and a distance of 250 kilometres. I was on top of the mountain and could no longer squeeze my brakes. It was getting dark. Then I had to give up out of safety reasons. Not that many people quit. I only remember having to pick up Jorn.
Yes, I quit more than once. Sjaak&Nout Classic, just across the Afsluitdijk… We ate a plate of pasta in Makkum. Still, we took the train to Leeuwarden from Harlingen. We ended up doing 200 kilometres out of 315. Is it quitting? Sure, we didn’t complete the tour.
I see Jorn as a person who always feels compelled to complete things. In the group he is known as the Alternative Transport Commissioner. A title which I wear like a badge of honour. A title which shows my resourcefulness… …and not my tendency to give up.
At those times, I simply choose a better alternative. I have caught him getting off the bike once, though… …in Flandres, and I made good use of that. Last year, during the Winter Elfstedentocht, a force eight gale. Horizontal rain. It was terrible. We quit that time.
You start off in the dark, with a bunch of fools. Tom, Rogier, Jorn and me. After 5 to 10 minutes, I had lost everyone. Everyone had already left. Then we confer briefly on whether we should split. I think Tom hung around for a while. I said: just go.
And then I had a nice bike ride, headwinds all the way to Oudemirdum. We literally saw people getting blown into the ditch… …by a gale that emerged from behind a farmhouse. I have a pretty standard bike, not one with high rims. If there are strong winds, you won’t last with it…
…if you have to cover long distances in the wind. People who had to stop right in front of you… …because they simply couldn’t peddle anymore. It was just trying to survive. The others make it sound like we were in Twister, or something. The wind was blowing hard.
I was blown left and right on the dike. Maybe it helped that I arrived an hour later. From Franeker or Harlingen I went back to Leeuwarden in a straight line. We didn’t make it to Dokkum. It turned out that they had taken a shortcut and had called it quits.
I had to press on, of course. In Bolsward I doubted for a bit. The wind was blowing so hard. It was old and wet. I decided to press on. I don’t understand that people finished the tour that day. It was truly a battlefield. Hours later we heard…
…that he did complete it, while we didn’t. I quit once. That was when we were Everesting at Het Kopje van Bloemendaal. We were going to do it 360 times. We had decided to do it in wintertime… …because there is also snow on Mount Everest.
It was our first time Everesting. We had no idea. Personally, I feel: records are to be broken under good conditions. Everything was against us, that day. I got my bike, flat tire. In the dark, while it was freezing. Three flat tires? We lost an hour because of that.
That messes with your mind. It starts to gnaw at you a little. “How is it really going?” I hear you ask. The road is wet. The same thing happens with us as with the Formula 1. We ride a dry strip into the track. After fifty rounds already.
It was still dark. We arrived at 03.50 AM. Peacocks were singing at that time. So, we weren’t even the loudest animals. As you can see, it’s dark. Exactly the way we want it. On the real Mount Everest, they also go up in the darkness.
Tom had four flat tires. Finally, we changed the outer tire. Thus far, everything is going well. Oh geez, I’ve reached the summit already. See you. -Well, 10.00 AM. I got a cup of coffee from Irene. We’re in a good mood. Everyone is climbing well. I’ve had 2200 metres of elevation gain.
That’s exactly a quarter. More later. In the daytime, people stop by to cheer you on. As the day progresses, those people stop coming. We’d known for quite a long time… …that we probably wouldn’t make it, because things weren’t going well. Sander Dannenberg sent us such a great evening meal. Absolutely brilliant.
That’s a real boost. We had a kind of gentlemen’s agreement… …Wouter de Boer, Tom and me. If it would rain, we would quit. That was a turning point for me. I don’t know what time it was. It wasn’t very far before the end.
The police came to check on us: “what are you guys doing here this late?” You then start to wonder: what am I doing here this late? I had Lies on the phone. Where you rather expect your parents to say: “if it feels too dangerous, just quit”,
It was nice to see that Lies said the exact opposite. All that time I thought he was joking, saying he was quitting. So I told Nout… “Just give it one more shot and see how it goes.” I ended up cycling for three more hours.
But on the Het Kopje van Bloemendaal there are street lights… …and when there are raindrops on your glasses, that gives a lot of glare. Maybe you can still do half a tour… …and if you can do that, maybe you can do another quarter. That’s great advice from your warm home, of course…
…sitting on their couch, with a hot cup of tea. The valid reason why that ended… …is that it got so cold. And wet. It got slippery. Then I started doing the math. You should never do that. If I go on, I’ll finish tonight at 2 AM.
I went up and down a few more times. I think I did about 8000 metres of elevation gain. I would’ve had to go up that thing quite a few times more. I was cold, wet, I still had a long way to go. I finally decided to put the bike away.
It’s good to see that people still… …have a bit of mortality left within them. It’s Friday then, na na na na. After half a year, Nout was going to give it another try. We’d made a huge pot of pasta. We made an enormous pot of pasta.
Wonderful, at the table, pasta, plate, there we go. Have a drink, and off they were again. Up they went again. Nice going. It’s great fun here. Everyone is very nice. I’m being treated well. Here is a newspaper with today’s date. I hope they’ll free me soon. How is Rik doing? -Yes, good.
Yes, fine. It’s nice when it takes exactly 24 hours. Many fans show up. All the village comes to watch. A streaker. It was dark at night. We brought chairs. His son Bas and Marloes. All wrapped in blankets. And then Nout came again, Marloes was running fast…
…trailing us until the mailbox. Meanwhile we became colder and colder. It was nearly 11 PM. It was terrible, but one thing I want so bad… …for him to do it once more. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t do it. I hope he does it once more. -What..?
Het Kopje van Bloemendaal. To be there once more, all of us. Oh, that was the best thing. Elfstedentocht gadgets [1] years in a row [2] 10x 20x 30x 40x 50x [3] reward ~ there was an extra show of appreciation 1.1 ~ they had completed a long series
To me, it’s strange you receive a gadget when you reach 10. It’s the Elfstedentocht, eleven cities, so you should receive a gadget when you reach eleven. And we also don’t say the twentieth, but the twenty-second. At the Elfstedentocht you receive a golden tie-pin after your tenth city. With a little cyclist on it.
Always a proud moment. Quite an achievement. And 20, 30, 40… …they are quite reticent with their information. I would really like it if they continued like that. A spoonful of cod-liver oil. Do you get something when you reach 40? An award or a ribbon? Those trouser thingies that hold your trousers up.
A piece of the hedgerow of the mayor of Bolsward. 20 and 50 are sent by package delivery, so 30 is a big thing. 20 and 40 by regular mail. So that has to fit in an envelope. A kind of Elfsteden cross… …which you can strap to the front of your bicycle.
One of those manual coffee grinders. A stone shaped like a pompeblêd (Frisian symbol). Which you can put in your front yard. A bottle of water from the Dokkumer Ee. A paperweight. I’m Frisian myself. The gifts you give in Friesland… …they don’t have to be that big to have value.
We Frisians don’t like grandioseness, no. If you complete 50… …maybe you get a golden tie? Maybe you should be named an honorary member of the Elfsteden community. Get your name etched into a monolith in the middle of Bolsward. If you’ve done it 50 times…
Do you get a bronze statue or something, if you’ve done it forty or fifty times? That’s really my goal. I think I’ll be 76 by that time. If I age healthily, that should be possible. I could’ve finished it ten times. That’s too bad. Isn’t there a pin for that?
Badge suggestions [1] options [2] future badges [3] requests ~ it would be nice if 1.1 ~ these Strava badges would motivate us It would be nice if Strava made badges for tours you do together. The Grou Pride Badge. If you cycle together with a first-timer. The Master Companion Badge. The Family Badge.
If you complete a Gran Fondo with your kids. I must admit I’d like to return to the gradations of badges. Also for 150 km, for 200 km and… To complete a number of kilometres with a group. That way, you do it together. Even if you might be cycling by yourself.
I do think I’d like to be in a team with Tom then however. A progressive badge all year long. That you get the year badge. That year I got it. Consistency badge within the Gran Fondos. Easier to remember. If someone is new to cycling…
…then his first 50 kilometres is definitely worth a badge. A Personal Victory Badge. More geographical badges. The Dutch Gran Fondo, the Belgian Gran Fondo. A French Gran Fondo, or one of the Alps. In 50 municipalities of the Netherlands. A regional badge. Or a Gran Fondo of every province.
That you use your experience to make others enthusiastic. That would be a lot of fun. Tips [1] practical [2] sharing experience [3] insight ~ they provided each other with new insights 1.1 ~ they immediately put them into practice If you’re doing a Gran Fondo for the first time… …that you start off slowly.
Don’t make it too difficult. Don’t make it too big in your mind. In summertime, with nice weather or not. Eat sufficiently. Before you go hungry. Listen to a podcast about that. You’d be amazed how much you can and must eat. Keep pedalling and you’ll get there. A 15-minute break quickly becomes an hour.
If you cycle slowly during that hour, you also recover. But you’ll still cover 20 kilometres. Don’t forget to enjoy the things along the way. Maybe you get a following wind going one way and a train going back. I wouldn’t even pick a route, but just go cycling…
..and then you take a turn left or right and reach places… …you’ve never been before, and before you know it, you’ve cycled a hundred kilometres. Every time you do a climb in Zwift, you practice braking during the descent.
If you want to go really fast, go by yourself. If you want to go really far, go together. Trust yourself. You can always go farther than you think. Do it with fun people and enjoy it.
Nutrition on the road [1] solids [2] fluids [3] grammes ~ they ate 90 g of carbs per hour 1.1 ~ brie sandwiches on the Glandon So, what do you need? Sugar. And what do you eat in Friesland when you need sugar?
I take a sûkerbôle with me. I put it on the back of my bike. I don’t need more than that. All those gels, such nonsense. We’re not doing the Tour du France. I literally just eat what’s available. I just shove it all in my mouth.
I only drank water along the road and I didn’t eat anything. You don’t ride a good Elfstedentocht on that. I am doing a double challenge… …I also have to take my insulin and blood sugar into account. That is often a challenge for me.
But you know roughly how many carbohydrates you need per hour. You make sure that you have various gels, bars… …maybe some more solid food, as well. Maybe a Snelle Jelle. 90 grams of carbohydrates per hour. All through fluids. Good care stations with cheese and salmon sandwiches.
Certainly those Flemish tours. They have waffles there. A couple of these guys can easily eat a plate of pasta halfway… …and then simply cycle on. Or a meatball sub. A few bars, sandwiches. A dry sausage. The first year we did La Marmotte they had brie on a baguette.
A lovely time on top of the Glandon. Wolfing down baguettes with brie. You should eat food that you like. Nutritional science tells us that both lipids and proteins… …lock down your entire digestive system. Coffee. I’ve had the bonk once.
It’s confronting to feel that your head still wants to, but your body gives up. I usually try to eat what I also eat during the trainings. I ate so many sugar that I could eat no more. I was sick to my stomach from all the sugar. I had hit max capacity.
At the summit, I allowed myself to eat a currant bun I had brought. Because during the descent your body is actually in resting mode. And it can digest that currant bun. During the day you can comfort yourself… Oh nice, I ate ten currant buns. I’m good to go.
I make sure I bring some extra things. Fast sugars, candy, chocolate bars, Snickers, that sort of thing. If that blood sugar plummets too much, I need to keep eating a lot. Munchies afterwards [1] a lot [2] salty [3] sinful ~ they ate fast-food 1.1 ~ these kcal evaporate immediately
After such a performance, you’re very hungry, of course. So, what do you do? You eat McDonalds, Burger King and a Chinese restaurant, all in the same night. I once was in such bad shape, that I couldn’t eat anymore. After the Tour du Mont Blanc I arrived in a dining room where everything…
…had run out, except sour chicken, brie and Turkish delight. That left scars on my soul. Right now I really want to eat, but I cannot. That was at 1.30 AM in winter sports town…. …in summertime. You cannot get any of the things you feel like eating.
I don’t have weird eating habits after I finish. I’m already eating along the way. If I can eat French fries during a rest stop, then I’ll eat French fries. Then I’m empty and I really need to fill up. That’s not a good way to recharge. You’re only cramming bad food in there.
Like forty centimetres of pizza and a bucket of ice cream. Two chocolate chip cookies, garlic bread, cheesy bread on the side. You should eat healthily, but if you let go just once a month… …especially on the day that you do a Basecamp… …then you hit break-even in terms of calories.
Clothing on the road [1] layers [2] changing clothes [3] support car ~ the support car was full of clothes and food 1.1 ~ self-supporting with layers in your pockets At the Elfstedentocht you need to be prepared for all sorts of weather types. You sort of know what the weather will be…
…but you start at 5 AM, when it’s still cold outside. Short-short, plus arm and leg coverings and a windproof jacket. It usually gets very hot in the afternoons. Then you take off the wind stopper, zip the leg coverings off, and then it gets even hotter…. …so you take the arm coverings off.
You need to carry all that with you. -In your pockets. Making me look like the Michelin Man, covered in bumps. But I like to be able to choose, to have layers. You can easily adjust during your breaks. In Norway we had a van following us. That was perfect.
We started at 11 PM. Cold. Long clothing. At night we cycled to the highlands, where it was literally below zero. Towards the end, closer to Oslo… …it had become a beautiful summer day 25 degrees. I took everything off again. We made another stop then and changed clothes entirely. Everything nicely dry.
No, of course not. The boys came with the clothing they were wearing. If they were too dirty, they put them in the washing machine. Those were dirty so they were put in the washing machine. We put them on again next day. -Hung them out to dry over the radiator.
I’ve done one Elfstedentocht with a tailcoat. That was the worst idea ever, because it was raining all day. Tailcoats are actually really good at absorbing large amounts of water. I didn’t even finish it. I came along a café and thought: enough is enough. Whenever I cycle with you, Brechje always says…
…we have endless discussions about it, long-long, short-short, long-short, short-long. She still mocks me for it. In recent years, everyone got a lot more serious about their gear. And that sort of thing. In the old days, we just went with whatever we had. I’ve done so many foolish things.
I remember one Tour of Flanders I was going to do together with Bart. The forecast promised beautiful weather. It turned out to be two degrees, with rain. We didn’t finish. The average Gran Fondo only takes about ten, eleven, twelve hours… You can reasonably check whether it will rain.
I’ve also done the Drenthe200, just a decent base layer… …a Gabba over it and a rain jacket. That’s enough. As long as you keep pedalling, you won’t get cold. At a certain moment you just can’t help getting wet feet. You just have to deal with it.
Talking on the road [1] companionship [2] distraction [3] shortness of breath ~ the conversation offered a distraction 1.1 ~ no breath to talk with I like to keep talking. Many Gran Fondo’s are tours, not races. When you’re cycling in a group together, everyone in a neat row…
…everyone just looking at each other’s derailleur, you’re not really cycling together. You hear so many nice stories during a tour like that. You haven’t seen some people in a while, so it’s nice to catch up. I’m not there for the sports performance. I’m partly there to have fun together.
If I were to give someone the challenge: talk for 20 hours on end. No one can talk all day long… …no one except Jorn. I’m not there to cycle in a row. I cycle for the company. If you don’t talk to each other, you might as well cycle by yourself.
Isn’t that the essence of cycling together? Talking during a tour. That’s rather the cyclists’ disease. I’m doing a sport, and when you do that… …you’re not supposed to talk. I climbed together with Nout. That was still possible then… …one of my best years. I showed an interest in Nout’s creative profession.
I work in a very different industry. I kept asking questions out of curiosity… …like I often do, until Nout finally snapped at me and said… “How would you like it if I kept asking you about your studies and your exams?”
I don’t mind the bustle around me, as long as they don’t talk to me. I also don’t mind keeping people out of the wind… …as long as they don’t talk to me. I’ll do my part up front.
Consistency [1] stable [2] all year long [3] in the lights ~ there was a short decompression 1.1 ~ it was a consistent training year I’m a cyclist who hibernates. My exercise plays out the exact same way every year. Somewhere between September and December I hit my quota of forty bags of crisps.
And around Christmas I’ll have gained 5 kilograms. Let’s make sure I can climb a mountain again by June. When rain is forecast for two weeks straight, I’ll put the bicycle on the indoor trainer. When there are not many daylight hours…
In February you realise that you haven’t cycled in the outdoors for 4 months already. Cycling indoors, it’s not for me. After only five minutes, I already think the world is ending. I have a good training consistency and I expect to do 13,000 kilometres again this year.
I’m not sure if my wife is as pleased about that… …I’ll try to balance it as best as I can. To do La Marmotte, which is quite a challenge in itself, to most mortals. Well, in this group they say: “No, you should get a golden score for La Marmotte, otherwise what’s the use?”
The same goes for training consistency. If you follow the wrong people on Strava… …you can feel like you’re having a bad week. I run five times a week. Just moved up to six times a week. I do my long tours before work at 5.30 AM.
I get out of bed at 5.10 AM and run 18 to 20 kilometres. Because of that, if I do Gran Fondos in March and April… …it’s a little more difficult for me than for the others.
Sleep [1] to sleep [2] before a Gran Fondo [3] usually at night ~ I had a short night’s sleep 1.1 ~ someone was snoring Very long tours you haven’t done before… I always get a little nervous. You discuss it beforehand with each other if you’re staying in a lodge.
You discuss what the next day will be like. Will it be harder than I imagined? I often get out of bed early for real challenges. Marmotte, Maratona, Mont Blanc, off to bed all excited. At Alpe d’HuZes the alarm was set at 2.45 AM and around midnight…
…my kids arrived in the village at the top of the mountain. My youngest daughter turned eight that day, so we even sang for her. I went to bed at 0.45 AM and woke up again at 2.45 AM. That doesn’t worry me. I know that you run on adrenaline that day.
It all turns out well in the end, because one night of sleeping poorly doesn’t matter that much. When I was adopted into the Elfsteden family in 2012… …I had the privilege of sharing a room with Sjaak. You always share a room with someone who snores. Usually it’s Bart Smorenburg.
That did mean that I had a real bed to sleep in. You don’t really sleep, basically. I actually slept quite well. I toss and turn. Will everything go well? It felt like there were fifty people in that house. On those nights before an Elfstedentocht I could never sleep.
You’re worried about: “will I wake up in time?”. Don’t think: I cannot sleep, I’d better see if someone has texted. “Are you guys getting any sleep?” No, you just keep to yourself. Nothing is wrong. We’re just going for a bike ride. Oddly enough, you always sleep for a bit.
Because you sleep for such a short time, you have crazy dreams. The second time I went Everesting on Het Kopje van Bloemendaal, I slept at Mollee.. I dreamt I was at the Velodroom in Roden… …and that the owner, Alex Kapma, tried to sell me my own bicycle.
He said: “Wow, it fits perfectly, etc.” And I woke up from that dream and had my bike there… …and I went Everesting on Het Kopje van Bloemendaal. Just lay down. It doesn’t matter whether you sleep or not. You’ll rest in any case.
Accommodations abroad [1] sleeping in a foreign language [2] several days [3] varying quality ~ the accommodations were comfortable 1.1 ~ it was far from the starting point As soon as you decide what to do, everyone gets up and says: “Okay”. I enjoy finding nice places… …where we feel alright for a week.
We arrived in that lodge, completely drenched… …and we couldn’t turn the heating on. We turned the oven on and opened the oven door. We all gathered around the opened door of the oven… …to warm up a little. I asked Nout if I could stay at his place.
That way, I’d only have to travel ten minutes to the starting line in the morning. I could sleep in that way. We went to bed at a decent age, but I woke up in the morning… …because someone was already at it on the Tacx. I didn’t need an alarm clock. I went upstairs.
I thanked Nout on the bicycle. He did that 10k. I had long since finished… …when Nout was still at it a little later that evening. Always great fun to be in a house together. It’s basically a week of vacation, combined with a Gran Fondo.
I already think the car ride over there is brilliant. I don’t need much more than a trunk full of bicycle wheels. …and a few good friends. Before Flanders, we slept in a room with six people. Those were rooms where the windows were shut. Very bad. Not good for anyone. Slept very poorly.
We also slept on mats at friends’ places. Or in nice bungalows, along the track. Start, finish. The most recent one was at the foot of the Alpe d’Huez where I think… …we had a villa for thirty people, in which the four of us stayed. A room for your bicycle, a room for yourself.
Rain and snow [1] wet [2] cold [3] mood ~ the rain made them moody 1.1 ~ the road surface was slippery No. It’s cold, but it doesn’t make me moody. I get moody more easily if I’m on the Tacx indoors. Sometimes it’s a cold and rainy day in March.
It’s good to be with your mates. They help you get through it. I’ll definitely be the first one to say: “Shall we reschedule?” I see no reason to make it any more difficult than it already is. Well, in summertime, the clothes all dry more quickly. It’s a little easier than in wintertime.
But of course winter adds an extra challenge… …because it’s cold and gets dark early. No, bad weather is not a reason for me to quit… …but rather one to get on the bike. That’s why I like the spring classics most. Truly dire circumstances. We once rode an Elfstedentochten with really bad weather…
…I’ll just get off. I don’t care for that. I cycle to have fun. I’ve spent many a weekend in a lodge with friends, just drinking beer… …but I remember few things as vividly as warming my hands at the tailpipe of a car.
Few things create such a strong connection as suffering together on a bike. First of all: when it’s cold and rainy, I’d already say… …I’ll stay at home. I’m not going. But you guys went anyway. There are always members of the group who manage.. …to persuade the others, who are still not discouraged.
The first Gran Fondo, together with Niels and Nout… …in Germany, through the snow, from the house of Niels’ parents in Warnsveld. A crazy tour, yes, but I did get moody. It was cold, snowing and the weather just stunk. Nout put the bike in a mound of snow with its pedal…
…and his bike just remained upright. The road was clear, but snow was by the roadside everywhere. And yet, they still went for it. In Germany there was no road salt on the bicycle paths… …there was snow everywhere. It was rather scary sometimes. Especially in the moment afterwards, when we were nicely…
…back in the house of Niels’ parents, warm by the stove. Yes, fantastic! I really like it, and at the Drenthe200 it rained all day. Perhaps on the day itself you think: a little break from this wouldn’t hurt. But in hindsight, it does feel a little more heroic to me.
I once did an Amstel Gold Race where I just couldn’t warm up again after lunch. And so I had to do the last one hundred and fifty kilometres cold. That was really tough. Once during the Festive500 with Baake, zero degrees. We were really soaked then.
We made the mistake of taking a break in a café. Then you have to go back into that cold while you’re totally soaked. We had to take a ferry and were so cold that we… …huddled against the engine of the ferry… …hoping to get a little bit of heat from that boat.
Paris-Roubaix 2015. We we’re drenched and some people were more troubled by the rain than I was. Then it’s nice, this kind of circumstances. I once did the Tour of Flanders, with Bart Smorenburg and Jorn… …and Frank Thomson. Three degrees and a drizzle. You guessed it: we didn’t finish. Jorn also got off then.
I had to take a toilet break at some point. My hands were so cold that Frank had to help… …me take my clothes off so that I could urinate. I find rain especially difficult in a technical sense. As soon as it gets a little wet, that boy can no longer steer, or something.
It’s not that I dislike it. It’s more that it’s dangerous. I lose all speed. It goes slowly and cycling together becomes an ordeal, rather than fun. Rapha Festive500 [1] worldwide [2] 500 km [3] between 24-31 December ~ Christmas to NYE 1.1 ~ compensating for the holidays
Because the guys stayed with us every year… …they grew fond of our lodgings. I thought it was so nice. …cycle somewhere other than Groningen. What we could do… …we could do a nice tour across the Posbank, out where my parents live.
I remember we used to do that on the third day of Christmas. We just did that straight after. We were already doing family things anyway. We had just celebrated Christmas and then you guys showed up. I was already there and cycled out to meet you and you…
…cycled from Amsterdam to Warnsveld and on the second day from Warnsveld to Groningen. Oftentimes we symbolically cycled back to Groningen. When you barged in here, there would be a lot of mud and water on the floor. You would undress at the bottom of the stairs and go up to take a shower.
Then the stove would be burning in the living room. The fireplace. It was crowded. And we would have to decide where to put you for the night. It was always a lot of fun when you guys came over. There would be tremendous meals, pastas. I think so, yes.
I do remember that there was usually a very calm atmosphere. Everyone was full and satisfied. And then they would recount the stories of that day. Like: “yeah, I was really at a low point over there”. “Oh no, for me it was at that point” You complemented each other. No tall tales.
For one person, setting a personal record or completing a distance will be more important… …for another the camaraderie will matter more. Perhaps you did it just to come visit us again. Because you missed us. At that first Festive500, a physical badge was sent to your home.
I once had the goal of trying to get into the top 500. The finish of the Festive500 takes place over several time zones. So in New Year’s Eve, you’re nervously. …eyeing your phone: “What’s my ranking now?” I was in 440th place, or something. But the people in New York still had to finish.
Frederike saw me fidgeting with my phone. She joked around about it. She said: “You’ll just go and cycle for a half hour more”. “I’ll tell you what Claudia’s jokes were”. ‘I don’t want you sagging through the ice”. I ended up in 495th place.
Ice skating Elfstedentocht [1] Friesland [2] 200 km [3] natural ice ~ skating tour 1.1 ~ 1985, 1986, 1997, 2012 In 1963 I was with a friend, Tjard… …they had tv at home, while we didn’t. We were free that day and watched television. Tjard and I were watching Reinier Paping do the Elfstedentocht,
Of ’63 on ice skates. That was the first time. I was still in high school… …when I became aware of the Elfstedentocht… …and it always stuck with me. I couldn’t make it in ‘63. My friend Rudolf did participate. I later asked him how it went.
He made it to Franeker, where he was picked off the ice at 5 PM. “How were you doing at that time?” He said: “Mels, to tell you the truth…” “I was still moving but I can’t remember anymore”. Good thing they took him off the ice. It remained in my mind.
We had seen that Elfstedentocht and then… …Tjard and I said to each other: “When we get older, we’re going to do that as well.” It never happened because an Elfstedentocht never happened. Until 1985, when another Elfstedentocht finally happened. Just about.
In Hindeloopen they nearly sagged through the ice and had to be transported with wagons. I participated together with Piet. That was a bad tour, because there was a lot of water on the ice. We were taken off the ice on the north side. We were brought back to Leeuwarden by bus.
We mulled over it when we went skiing with the kids. So odd! We failed somehow. The year after that, it was organised again. ‘86, the best Elfstedentocht. Then we completed it. That was fun. We got a silver cross. Without Lies my life always goes wrong. I had actually… …put on too few layers.
It was a little colder than I had thought. At Sloten I already ate a few sandwiches. Lies had said: “We’ll wait for you in Witmarsum.” “Along the course, so we can say hi.” I arrived in Witmarsum but didn’t see Lies anywhere. I pressed on. And right when…
…we were about to miss each other entirely down the dyke comes… …Annelies with a garbage bag full of tasty goodies. And more importantly: a vest. That was worth gold right then. And dry socks, that sort of thing. “Why are you so late?”
“Yes, I had to see Evert van Benthem finish, otherwise I would’ve missed it”. Once I finished with a frozen eye. I thought: “What’s that in my eye? A grain of sand or something?” I just kept rubbing it. I arrived in that hall and they said: “Isn’t your eye frozen?”
I said: “I’m not sure”. And so they checked. Indeed, my eye had frozen. She said: “You need to stay indoors for a while so it can thaw”. I stayed there for twenty minutes and the little grain disappeared. That was good. In ‘97 on the 4th of January.
I got another cross, which was even more special. Newyear’s Day, 11 AM, on the ice for the first time. I met Mayor Piersma. “Yes, I’ve already done five-six hundred kilometres.” I still had to start. I had a pretty good ice skating stroke. I was on a roll. A map… …showing the eleven cities.
And a little cross. My sports achievements inspired Nout the most. That photo, taken there. The Canterland Bridge over the Murk. They made an Elfsteden monument there… …with the tiles arranged in such a way that you can see ice skaters in them. This tile, Nout with his father.
At the bridge, coordinate, 02496 space 2, on the inside. Send a selfie to Mels and Lies… …prove that you understand the story. “Do you think it will happen this time?” The answer was: “No” “Ice skating between hope and fear”, whether it would happen. That craze, the Elfsteden Fever, is very addictive.
You never get rid of it. It’s a virus that takes a hold of you. That year, Reinout and three ice skaters… …two triathletes and a marathon skater, did the Elfstedentocht on their own accord. I admire them so much. I just had to fall in line,
But they had to find the Wymerts using GPS. A triathlete, they told me… …learns make his body relax during enormous exertions. While a marathon skater thinks… …with 25 rounds I have to be the fastest to finish. He was already having a hard time in Hindeloopen.
A good friend of Reinout decided: “we stick together”. “I’ll stay with you.” And sure enough, first came the triathletes, who’d had a pleasant tour. With very powerful headlights. The technology has surely improved since I participated. In they came, completely wrecked. The Elfsteden Fever is best treated… …by completing the course.
If you reach the Bonkevaart and say: “I made it”. A lot of emotions. Styrkeprøven [1] Norway, Trondheim – Oslo [2] 550 km [3] 4300 m elevation gain ~ false flat 1.1 ~ longest day For the Styrkeprøven, we went cycling with a big group of rowers. Alexander, an old rower at Skadi.
He had said: “I’ll make an outfit for us.” He made a runner’s outfit. You need that when you cycle for 550 kilometres, sure. It makes a big difference. The tour between Trondheim and Oslo in one day. Literally “the Proof of Strength” in Norwegian. The longest day of the year. Light.
No sleep. Starting at 11 PM. I was quite tired, already before we started. At thirty, I was the youngest, while the oldest was Frans Göbel. 62 years old. He was faster than all of us. We called Frans the ‘Emperor of the Amstel’, because he’d won the Skiff Head… …about thirty times I believe.
Truly a beast in every sport he does. We rode single file for the most part. One man formed the vanguard. I was riding near the vanguard and for 20 minutes no one peeled off from the front.
Then Frans finally peeled off and we said: “Frans, have you spent all that time in the van?” We were cycling 42 kilometres per hour. It was relatively flat. 42 kilometres per hour and Frans said: “Yeah, yeah, I was inspired by the landscape.”
We rode the longest distance from Trondheim and arrived in Oslo at the finish. We were going to collect our medals and arrived at that table. Those ladies behind the table said: “Where did you start?” Trondheim. We were the first ones to arrive out of all the contestants who had started in Trondheim.
Tour du Mont Blanc [1] France, Italy, Switzerland [2] 330 km [3] 8000 m elevation gain ~ mountain tour 1.1 ~ time limit 19 hours Did you know that I did the Tour du Mont Blanc with Joep? There’s something in French on there. I have no idea.
At a certain time I thought: “Is that thunder I’m hearing down in the valley?” But it was Jorn driving up in the GTA. That was an unequalled experience. I followed Nout and Joep, cheered them on all day. That was also rather difficult. There were a few checkpoints…
…and if you weren’t there in time, you were disqualified. I had convinced myself that there was one of those checkpoints at the summit. Mentally you start to think… “No, I’m not going to complete the entire race.” So I arrived up there in tears. And Joep asked: “Nout, what’s wrong?”
“We’re disqualified. The checkpoint is here.” Whereupon Joep said: “No man, that was two mountains ago.’ You trouble yourself unduly. Frankly, when I got to the summit of the Grand Saint Bernard… …that was halfway. I was really fed up.
I was prepared to get in a car and quit. Jorn convinced me to press on. He said: “There is a descent first. Just try that, at least.” I went down that Grand Saint Bernard, into Italy. I felt the warmth of Italy on my skin. The sun started to shine.
The view on Italy, the southern slope of the mountain. I filled up with energy again. I was back in the game. Sometimes it’s your buddies on the bike, sometimes it’s your buddies by the roadside. Together is not alone. Yes, you truly get farther. During the Tour du Mont Blanc there was one man…
…who was being filmed all the time. No one knew why but he had a double film crew with him. Everyone wanted to know why he was being filmed. He spent all day talking to the cameras… I remember he was a motivational speaker. He talked all day long. …of course, he didn’t make it.
We joked for weeks on end about what it means… …if you’re a motivational speaker and cannot manage… …to motivate yourself to complete the Tour du Mont Blanc. At the last climb, the Cormet de Roselend. At the summit there was lightning, rain, high winds.
I waited for a while in the tent at the care station… …but the wind just blew right through the tent. The rain just slapped you in the face. Someone came out of a lodge and asked me if I wanted a beer. I refused. During that great big rain shower my Garmin broke down.
That’s quite tough. For your performance, you rely on… …your cadence, your speed and your heart rate. Suddenly I was rudderless. We had made the last descent just before dark. You basically couldn’t see very far. During the descent I had seen a church tower, which was at the last climb.
Normally during a climb you can still see the pass from afar. Now you saw just a light. The road has to be somewhere over there, because you see a house. I had convinced myself that that church tower was at the finish. It was very dark during that last climb.
You cycle with your little light. I ride into that village. I was truly the last to finish. There was a group of clapping kids, so I thought: Yeah! They shouted in French: “Well done, it’s only seven more kilometres!” No, I still had to climb for seven more kilometres.
But I couldn’t see the village. The finish was not visible. In front of me was another guy who got off at that point… …and sat down on the ground in tears. His support car stopped beside him. And his wife got out with two children of about fifteen years old.
“No dad, we’ve been in the support car all day.” “You’re going to press on.” So his wife had already lifted his bike upright again. His children were dragging daddy off the ground. And that guy was just pushed up that mountain again. This was a family performance for them. It was a lonely experience.
Worst Gran Fondo [1] a pain [2] tough [3] uncomfortable ~ the plan went poorly 1.1 ~ it was less fun than anticipated What would be a bad memory in cycling together? The worst tour I’ve had was the Drenthe200. When you’re together with friends and back at home, the misery ebbs away.
Only the heroism remains. Heroism is of course a different thing than having a great time… …and wanting to do it every year. I’ve also gained a bit of resentment… …against having to cycle in the pouring rain, alone, for 200 kilometres… …on a mountain bike in Drenthe. I don’t have truly bad memories.
No, if I did, I wouldn’t keep doing it. The first time I had COVID-19, with a heart rate of zero… …I still went out and cycled. I was very efficient, at 101 kilometres. My muscles ached for two weeks. Those are the months in which you risk interrupting your streak.
It’s very annoying having to stop due to an injury. You want to press on. If you lose your motivation, then you lose your motivation. Then you quite because you no longer feel like it. If you want to press on but you can’t because you’re in so much pain… …then that’s so annoying.
What’s remarkable in this group is that your frame of reference shifts. If you, like most of us, spend all of your time in a student rowing association… …in a competitive rowing environment. In a normal friend group, if someone runs a marathon… They’ll say: “Cool, he did a marathon!”
If you’re part of this group and you say: “I’ve done a marathon”… …and you took more than three hours, everyone asks you: “Why?” 03:07:19 In Berlin I did that once. Rotterdam 03:02:01 Why didn’t you manage to keep it under three hours? Work in progress. A city marathon in Rotterdam, anyone can do that.
Try doing the Berenloop with a force 7 gale, rain and hail. It doesn’t matter whether you finish within three hours. The Berenloop, named after.. …the bears Willem Barentsz had to fight on Nova Zembla. If you survive a race like that, then you’re a hero in my book.
I didn’t do the Berenloop this year. No, the weather was much too bad. Rain, wind, that doesn’t do it for me. Best Gran Fondo [1] fun [2] joyful [3] to enjoy ~ they rode their best Gran Fondo 1.1 ~ it was all enjoyment I did go Everesting, on the Alpe d’Huez.
Because that was magical in every way, heroic. I prepared for it for a long time. For the Rapha Festive500… …I really went outside of my comfort zone, cycling in December. In the heart of winter. Getting up, on the bike… …frozen grass, frost on the road. That was a special time for me.
A very wet Paris-Roubaix, in which Nout, still recovering from an illness… …finished the tour together with me, trailing me. In my memory it was the Carrefour de l’Arbre… …but it was probably a random tour. Nout said to me: “Slow down a bit”. Something I haven’t heard often in this friend group…
…if it wasn’t me saying it. Yes! Finally I get to take someone in this group home. That gave me the feeling I could do something in return for this group. I really liked that. Together with Spekkie we sat on a normal bicycle. With a wind force 5 headwind we looked back and saw…
…forty people on carbon racing bikes in our slipstream. We arrived in Bolsward and Pieter shouted: “This is Station Bolsward. Everyone please get off!” We rode on schedule for a year… …which was ideal for me, because it meant we didn’t cycle faster than necessary.
You had decided that we were going to organise the Sjaak&Nout Classic. We were going to cycle from Amsterdam to Makkum first. Then we’d follow the course of the Elfstedentocht. And then we’d do the last part, cycling to Groningen. That was the first time I rode more than 330 kilometres.
Fine, that’s three times around the Lauwersmeer and a little extra, I can do that. During such a long tour I recover gradually. My condition improved toward the end. The second or third Sjaak&Nout Classic… …Coen participated. Halfway along the Afsluitdijk, there are very long roads… …in North-Holland, near Medemblik. Those are absolutely deserted.
We made good time there and then… …we had rather burnt out Coen He was so rundown that he… …got into the support car at the start of the Afsluitdijk. I told him: “Why don’t you take it easy?” “We’ll eat pasta at Mels and Lies’ on the other side of the Afsluitdijk.”
“After that, we’ll see.” It was good to see that after 1.5 hours of rest… …after eating some pasta, he was as good as new. And, he finished the tour. When the ribbons were handed out… …we cut a piece off his ribbon, of course. That’s also a nice, eternalised memory for him.
I completed nearly the entire second Sjaak&Nout Classic. Together [1] group ride [2] joining forces [3] Han Solo ~ there rode a lonely cyclist 1.1 ~ together they got further than alone I’m someone who just loves to cycle together. It’s not fun cycling on such a machine all by yourself.
I never go: “You know what?” “I’m gonna do that all by myself.” You do it in a group. Even if you can’t perform and finish the tour. Or you take a shortcut. You still worked hard all day. I’m thinking: Is he doing it on his Tacx or what? That’s rather spectacular to me.
It’s also inspiring to keep doing it.. …despite the circumstances. Getting into the rhythm, planning, keeping your Saturdays free for it. When I see that happening around me, good memories… “Okay, I also have to get to work.” Last year I noticed, doing the Elfstedentocht together…
…it gives me a training impulse for the rest of the season. How often do you cycle for eight hours without a clear goal? Never. This kind of event… …apart from the fact that it’s great fun… …rather adds to your training input. You cannot get together every month.
Especially during that first year, we asked each other… “What will you do by yourself?” I always ache to do a little more. I’m not the kind of guy that when I hear that someone will do 400 km… …that I have to do 425 km. I keep it in the back of my mind.
So I consult with my friends a lot. Having fun together, that was the main thing for me. #Thuis11 (#Home11) [1] attics worldwide [2] 235 km [3] Zwift ~ Elfstedentocht on Zwift 1.1 ~ during the COVID-19 lockdown “Are you ready for a real challenge?” “Take part in the Elfstedentocht on Zwift.”
He’ll also try to take part if it’ll be organised. He’ll sit on the Kickr in Bolsward to cycle it. That’s when we created the #Thuis11 (#Home11). Globally, 300 people participated in it. We had partitioned it into those distances and those cities. Four, three, two, one, go! Participants, good luck! -Thank you! Bon voyage.
I’m doing fine. We’ve covered 133 km. Blimey, we’re going pretty fast, aren’t we? Yes, we’re on our way to Bolsward. -Virtually so. Where is your bicycle? -We’re inside the Elfstedenpark. You guys are inside, then? -Yes, in the carpark. That’s where we’re cycling. I was team captain of a slightly slower group.
Tom also cycles in races, so he’s quite… …He was team captain of a very fast group. There he goes, the last kilometre. You can do it. Friesland has changed. You can see global warming happening, with those rocks instead of trees. He’s got it. I can definitely feel it.
There were always five minute-breaks in every city. We gave the team captains homework, a list of… …facts about those cities. We stick together well. I also see the other group via a livestream. All those team captains… …we had ten team captains, who were typing stuff like…
“Did you know that the boat to Harlingen for your summer vacation trips departs here?” That then appeared on everybody’s screen. We now go live to Benidorm. Racer Lieuwe Westra has never sat on a home trainer for more than four hours. He’s going to break that record.
The Virtual Cycling Elfstedentocht Spectacle. All day long on Omrop Fryslân. It had that tour cycling feel to it. This is where I stamp. Everyone had received a physical stamp checklist… …with a template to make an Elfstedentocht stamp from a potato. So that you could actually stamp.
Gentleman in Traffic [1] courteous [2] to take it easy [3] to give right of way ~ they were gentlemen in traffic 1.1 ~ a smiling traffic participant The danger in Strava is that you can see the average time of your tour. That causes people to keep pedalling in villages…
…or to ignore the traffic rules. We made two videos explaining that a little. Those only take 8 minutes. Oncoming traffic! Obstacle! Brake! The same thing goes for crossing a crossroads. When you’re cycling with four people and the guy on point thinks… “Oh, I can make it right before that car comes.”
Then the other three still have to wait. Then, what’s the use? Why would the man on point take that risk? Cycling in a group is not an equation like: “What can we do, just about?” No, you have to figure out how to get everyone across. So please, act gentlemanlike in traffic.
After all, cyclists don’t have a good reputation in traffic. And there is very little to be gained that way.
2 Comments
Niceee 🤩
Heel vet!!! 😮