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Will Frischkorn: Classics season is upon us.

Sitting on a plane headed back to Spain after a weekend of racing and a day spent pre-riding Paris-Roubaix sectors, I’m pretty sure that classics season is now officially open. The blister on my hand, right where the ring finger creases as I type, is a good reminder. Yep, pave is in no way easy on the body. My fingers, and the slight ache that run through them as they roam the keyboard would be reminder number 2. Moving on to other contact points with the bike; well, yeah, I’ll be reminded tomorrow.

The two kickoff races to the season, Het Nieuwsblad and Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne, both cover roads we’ll frequent in the coming 6 weeks. The patch of Belgium that contains most every road we cover in the bumpy races is in reality very, very small. You could probably drop the entire patch of hills within the city limits of Boulder back home. We attack these bergs from every direction possible. With little roads, too small for your average American land crusher to have all four wheels on at once, weaving a web that probably looks like an anthill from space, we know these routes well by the time the season concludes. And lucky that is … The importance of proper positioning cannot be emphasized enough. No matter the go in the legs, if you’re too far back entering one hill or section of pave, that’s your day. The guys that grew up amongst these hills know them like a second, or in their case, probably fourth or fifth language. Needless to say, for the rest of us the pre-rides are important.

Belgian style racing, understanding I’ve probably written something to this effect each of the past few years, is different. Looking back on Qatar I now realize that it really wasn’t so-oo crazy, it was just the first race of the year and the mind was unprepared. These races define crazy. But it’s just right: they couldn’t be any other way. The Belgian “death gap” that bisects every cement block, aka every, road in West-Flanders; The bike paths that parallel the roads and provide perfect routes up the sides of the field, until a car, trash can, UPS man or errant small child happens to be in your way; The roundabout hot-route that never reconnects on the other side, leaving you stranded two meters from the field with a deep mud/grass median between you and the rest, but well, why not go for it; The normally odd sight of a rider looking like swamp-thing, until you realize they climbed back out of the dike that a mis-judged curb hop sent them into for a swim. All in a days work up north …

The thing is, once your head is in the game — and I can’t reinforce how important that is — these races are a blast. They’re so utterly, well, Classic. No other race you do all year even come close on the crazy scale, and if they could, it’s not right. When someone dive-bombs a corner, pulling what in Belgium would be a mentally-applauded late brake into a corner, you’re livid, in shock that somebody would take such an unnecessary risk. Here, however, you just wish that you’d been that guy and in the next corner exact revenge.

Crashes? They’re just part of the deal. The sight of a bike in the air is just a sign to look out for the rider that must be dodged somewhere on the ground ahead. Out just pre-riding Roubaix pave today, Hans Dekkers performed a perfect slow-motion wash out, right in the middle of our little train. With hands on the tops and bike half in the air all I could hope was that he fell to the right. Luck was with me, and him; he stood up with a few good mud smears, but with a thermal wrap of Pearl Izumi between body and cobblestones he rode on unscathed. Teammate Steve Cozza put it well at one point last year when he was feeling a bit timid, recovering from yet another serious accident. “You remember Super Mario Brothers? (a video game where you start big, but as you approach death shrink in size). I’m riding like a little Mario, man, I need to be a big Mario.” Couldn’t say it better — in Belgium you need to race like a big Mario.

After this past weekend’s refresher to the north we now have a little break. I’m off to Italy for a few weeks: Eroica, Tirreno and San Remo. Races where big Mario will still need to come out and play, but be able to recharge just a bit for the swing of classics come April.

Editor's Note: Will Frischkorn is a professional with the Garmin-Slipstream team. Read more of his journals here.