Some sporting events feel like they’re for other people. People who are fitter, have better gear or more experience. And sometimes that’s true. But as Steph Wetherell discovered, sometimes it pays to test the theory. She showed up to the start line of a famous sportive, rocking amateur footwear and an ancient touring bike with a couple months of training under her belt and a whisper of hope that she might be able to complete the challenge. Were three months of training and a little self-belief enough to get her over the finish line? Read on to find out.
Catherine
Editor, Notes from Outside
At the start of the Sportive I’m a jumble of emotions – rumblings of excitement about what’s ahead, mixed with a creeping feeling that I don’t belong here.
I’m a size 20 and riding a 10 year old touring bike, surrounded by thousands of super fit cyclists on expensive, technical road bikes. After a friend’s description of blaring Euro House music and waffles at the small town rest stops, I’d expected there to be more amateur enthusiasts like me. It made the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of iconic cyclists like Eddy Merckx and Marianne Vos up famous climbs too much to resist. The current field is not exactly what I was expecting but I remind myself of my simple goal: I aim to finish while having fun along the way.
As my partner and I join the crowd of cyclists passing under the arched start line, I quickly have to adjust to cycling in a pack. It takes some getting used to the close proximity of other riders on all sides and the accompanying language of hand signals. I begin to relax as we leave Oudenaarde for the surrounding countryside and the group spreads out, but there’s little time to enjoy it. We’re soon confronted with our first hill: the Wolvenberg.
Buoyed on by the pack, I surprise myself by making it to the top without too much difficulty (and a big smile on my face). There’s a brief moment for recovery before we hit our first cobbled section (known locally as pavé), the 1.4 kilometers of Kerkgate followed immediately by the brutal but short Holleweg. By the end my arms are burning, my fingers are tingling and my bum’s a little sore, but I’m grinning ear to ear. At this point I still think cobbles are fun.
The first rest stop comes up fast and after refueling on the highly anticipated waffles, we come face to face with one of the biggest challenges of the day: the famous Koppenberg. It’s a gentle lead in and I cope fine until the steepness cranks up, approaching its maximum of 22%. Soon I opt to join the growing number of cyclists who have dismounted to push their bikes up the narrow road. As I stride past people in cleats struggling to walk up the mud-caked cobbles, I reflect that my amateur footwear (trainers) might hold some advantages after all.
The 2 kilometer Mariaborrestraat section of cobbles comes next. Combined with a gentle ascent, the constant vibration starts to take its toll on my arms. I pause for a short break halfway through to stretch out my hands. I’m then faced by a series of short, sharp cobbled ascents that come in quick succession. I fall into a familiar pattern of cycling as far as I can until I run out of gears and feel the burn in my legs. Each time I dismount, I push back feelings of disappointment, trying to focus on my overall goal of making it to the end, reassured by the handful of other people walking alongside me.
All the climbing rewards us with some much needed downhill, and my legs get a rest as I gleefully whiz along for several kilometres without pedaling once. We pause at another fuelling stop and I realise that we’ve passed the halfway mark. There are only a few climbs remaining. As I tuck into another waffle, I start to believe that I might just make it.
The next climb once again defeats me part way up, but the second – the Karnemelkbeekstraat – I find myself powering to the top of, accompanied by the cheers of “Allez, allez,” from a group of fancy dress-clad spectators. As we approach the 2.5 kilometer Oude Kwaremont stretch, crowds of bike race spectators appear, scouting the best spots from which to watch the official Tour of Flanders race the next day. Buoyed on by my prior success and the closeness to the finish, I push myself as we begin the climb. I reach the steepest middle section, but the combination of mud, cobbles and gradient forces me to my feet for a few hundred metres. I’m soon back on my bike, cheered on by fans lining both sides of the road. My legs are aching with tiredness but my heart is full of utter joy as I grind my way to the top of the hill.
I can almost taste the finish at this stage, but the legendary Paterberg climb still sits between me and the final flat section. Within a few turns of the pedals, I realise this isn’t the hill for my tired legs and dismount early on, instead focusing on watching the other riders as they take on one of the hardest hills in cycling. In short, it’s carnage. People find themselves in the wrong gear and come to a standstill, and riders tumble sideways into the mud as they can’t unclip their cleats in time. The ever increasing number of riders pushing their bikes leaves little space for those still cycling and the air is thick with shouts to get out of the way in an assortment of languages.
The final 15 kilometers flies by on flat roads, and before I know it the finish line is ahead of us. My partner and I make a half-hearted joking attempt at a sprint (spoiler: I lose), and cross the line. It’s an emotional moment – I realise through all the months of training and preparation, I genuinely hadn’t been sure I’d be able to complete the route. But I had. And as the grin on my face for most of the route had shown, I’d enjoyed it too. Now, with my finishers medal and a cool beer in my hand, the nerves at the start line are just a hazy memory. I do belong here, even with my ancient touring bike, unconventional footwear, and plus-size body.
Words and photos by Steph Wetherell
Steph Wetherell is the cofounder of Every Body Outdoors, a UK-based community group that advocates for plus-size people in the outdoors. They offer skills courses, community meet-ups and work with the outdoor industry to increase representation and make plus-size clothing that’s fit for purpose more readily available!