They say that, not long ago in Roubaix, the most inspired cyclist won. We don’t know if that’s true, but today, words fail us, and writing feels like a struggle. Meanwhile, Gianrico Carofiglio’s observation comes to mind: “There are moments when you must speak, and nothing should be taken for granted. Then there are moments when you must remain silent because there’s something intangible and precious in the air, and your words could scatter it in an instant. These are two simple concepts. The hard part is deciding when to apply one rule and when the other.” What each person felt when Wout van Aert crossed the finish line in the Roubaix velodrome cannot be captured in a single piece, because it’s something different for everyone – something tied to their own present and past. And, in the end, what truly matters is what van Aert felt and did. Cyclists, even though we like to believe it and it’s a romantic notion, don’t race to fulfil our lives, resolve our doubts, or symbolise something greater. What you see is exactly what there is. If anything, it’s true that sometimes, because of great athletic feats, we fail to see something that was there. Perhaps that’s what inspiration does.
For van Aert, inspiration might lie in all the misfortune he has endured, here and elsewhere, and in all the nights he went to bed thinking he would give up. He said it himself. Then he woke up the next morning and decided to give it his all once again. That’s how you become inspired. Because inspiration isn’t a sudden flash of light in the darkness. It can be, of course. But more often, it’s simply the sum of all the things that went wrong but didn’t make us walk away. And if inspiration comes from this, it explains the clarity and ruthlessness of Wout van Aert, who, even today, wasn’t spared from misfortune and had to chase back after a puncture. He attacked while Mathieu van der Poel was closing in from behind and delivered the final blow to the Dutchman’s hopes. Being inspired is seeing beyond. It’s looking at the metre of road ahead and already imagining the next two or three metres. They write that in Roubaix, van Aert embraced his destiny. One thing is certain: Wout van Aert knew better than most what had happened to many and what could have happened to him, and he didn’t care because he had already seen too much. He was afraid, yes, because otherwise, you don’t cry like that at the finish line, and because Wout van Aert is a phenomenal man among many phenomenal men. What could happen did happen, and each of the pre-race favourites experienced it.
Tadej Pogačar chased after a puncture more than 120 kilometres from the finish: he rejoined the race after an endless pursuit, and that effort was still in his legs when van Aert overtook him in the sprint amidst the chaos of the velodrome. Mathieu van der Poel tried to make life harder for him, increasing the pace, but when the Slovenian returned to the group during the passage through the Forest of Arenberg, he too was left stranded by a mechanical issue. At one point, he was timed at over two minutes behind. He finished fourth, just fifteen seconds back. Filippo Ganna experienced literally everything – from mechanical problems to a crash. And so it goes, because these strips of cobblestones, uneven and misaligned, are not and will never be ideal for a bicycle. Yet, perhaps precisely for this reason, they keep coming back, and we keep waiting for days like this.
In the end, it came down to two: van Aert and Pogačar. In a way, the worst possible companion for the Belgian, someone who almost never loses. Today, Tadej Pogačar loses, and he loses to a rider for whom even those hoping for the world champion’s victory say: “If someone else had to win, it’s good that it was Wout.” Because a cyclist isn’t there to solve anyone’s life – perhaps not even their own – but it often feels natural to see oneself in a cyclist. And Wout van Aert is a cyclist in whom it’s natural to see oneself because he touches the extraordinary and reacts to the extraordinary as anyone would – not as we’ve been conditioned to think superhumans should.
We don’t think it’s a coincidence that, in the women’s race, it was Marianne Vos who led the charge in Visma I Lease a Bike. Marianne would have dedicated the victory to Henk – her father, who passed away just a few days ago. We’re certain she would have, and we’re also certain that, beyond her undeniable talent, she wanted to take charge of the race herself for this very reason. They also say that Vos was at least as inspired as van Aert, only that inspiration wasn’t enough for her, and Franziska Koch, alone against her and Ferrand-Prévot, outsmarted them both and, after so many strong performances, claimed victory in the Hell of the North.
Yes, inspiration is never enough if everything else isn’t there, but everything else without inspiration feels poorer. Perhaps it’s because the inspired are, after all, those who never walked away from what was going wrong, and everyone – cyclist or not – ultimately wants to hear that again. To see it. To feel it. Something like: “Stay safe for one more night, because it’s too dark outside to decide. Wait for the light to come, wait for a new morning. One more time. And, perhaps, continuing will feel a little less frightening.”
Photo: Poci’s