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Fresh Korn: Mourn the fallen, then return to battle
After Michael Barry’s most recent diary the Tour of Qatar took a distinctly different turn. As most of you have surely read, the morning after Mark Cavendish convincingly won his first of two stages, a young rider on the Topsport-Flanders team was found dead in his hotel room. It was a tragedy in the truest definition of the word, and I can only imagine what it must have been like for his roommate and his family, far away in Belgium; life-changing, to say the least.
We woke that morning as usual, unaware of the events transpiring. We went to breakfast, came back up, stretched, pulled things together and gathered for our pre-race meeting. When our director, Johnny Weltz, walked in it was instantly apparent that something was up. He waited for everybody to arrive before telling us what had happened.
We were told we were still going to the race, but with no idea of what to expect. When we emerged from the elevators the typically empty Ritz lobby was packed with sad faces and cameras flashing. The directors met, and we were told that the race would be run as a neutral 40km procession, from the start at the camel track back into town, and we weren’t leaving until noon. We shuffled quietly back to our rooms.
I think we all took the next hour and a half to contemplate, escape and mourn for those who knew Frederiek. I went through many of the thoughts that follow a serious accident or death in a race. I almost always run through the “this is not worth it” process. How dangerous each and every race is, from neutral start to finish; the number of times that the slightest wrong move or bad luck could be the end; all the crashes that somehow leave you barely marked. All of it — and then grapple with the fact that this young rider passed in his sleep. We don’t know yet what happened, but one wonders whether it had something to do with pushing the body as hard as we do daily. These thoughts spiral on endlessly.
Then, after every deep scare, we go back out and do it again, jumping right back into the same risks, the same crazy circumstances, because — well, because it’s what we do. We don’t acknowledge our mortality. We deny the fact that we can be hurt beyond a bit of road rash or a broken bone from time to time. Unfortunately, the reality is far different.
Thursday we spent a day that I’ll not soon forget with a group of people all somehow tied to the events of the day. There was an energy throughout the hotel unlike any I’ve ever felt. A ceremony in honor of Frederiek was put together in great haste — unfortunately, the impact of the press was firmly imprinted, with snapping cameras and forgotten cell phones. The dining room that evening was as quiet as a church. Everybody, all day, seemed tired, lethargic, just not fully there. It was a day that no one here will soon forget.
But as Friday arrived it was back to business. Everybody flipped the mental switch, focused forward and raced full steam ahead. Cav’ once again showed that he is undeniably the fastest man on two wheels, and took the stage with ease in the last few hundred meters. And then we all headed back to the hotel to pack and head home.
Some of us on Garmin, however, are still here. After a little ride this morning we’re headed off to explore the old market and downtown. My previous goal of a cruise on camelback was obviously far from the front of my mind on Thursday, but it’s nice to now see this truly unique place, not on two wheels. We’ll catch a red-eye back to Spain tonight.
Tomorrow it’s back to Spain for a week of rest, then back at it in Portugal for the Volta ao Algarve. In all that’s ahead, however, I’ll remember how important it is to live life to its fullest, every day — to love, savor, have fun, find the high points and never forget how lucky we all are, no matter how down things may seem.
Thanks for reading,
Will
