Thirteenth in the Tour of Lombardy at twenty, in his first Monument. Jarno Widar had never ridden a race this long, says Sporza. And that, I understand. I have a longest ride too.
The Tour of Flanders sportive, the 140 version. Well, I had signed up for the 140. I finished on the 74 last time, with the backpack, two coffee stops, and the red light in Oudenaarde that I count every year because it never counts me. Take off the backpack, the café and the light: still 74. I admit it. I am not saying it is the same thing. I am saying we all know the kilometre where the ride becomes longer than you are.
He found his in the last climb. He stayed a long time in the leading group, then missed the junction with the chase group, the one with Remco Evenepoel and Ramses Debruyne, which sprinted for fourth place. After the finish he told Sporza: “I’m just completely choco. I know nothing about the result. I can’t give a proper answer, I just see black.”
He knew nothing about the result. It is the only time in my life I did not look at my bike computer, and even then, I looked at it at the café, at noon, to check.
He did not know his placing. The classification knew him. Thirteenth.
And for those who are already talking about age, he answered that himself: “Seixas wins, so age has nothing to do with it.” Paul Seixas, the winner, is the only rider classified ahead of him who is younger. At twenty, I was already leaving at twenty past nine. That has nothing to do with it either.
At the café, we worked out my longest ride by counting the way to the square. We can talk about it.
It’s true, we checked: Sporza.
