by Christine Vardaros

In the crowd of riders were many famous faces from their respective lands, including the Lebanese Time Trial champion Zaher El Hage and the strongest Israeli female Yarden Avidani.

While most of the Belgian cyclocross racers are spending part of their first post-season month skiing or on some warm sunny beach sipping umbrella drinks by the seaside to unwind, I chose to spend mine suffering on the bike – but at least it’s under sunny skies with the most magnificent views imaginable.

I am checking in from sunny Cyprus, not quite from the side of a pool but from the road stage race Tour of Cyprus – a co-ed, four day mountainous stage race. The teams and individual riders came from places like Germany, Lebanon,  Great Britain, The Netherlands, Poland, New Zealand, Greece, Cyprus and of course Belgium. There were four of us from Belgium, so we registered as Team Belgium, although I wore my Zannata-Champion System clothing.

Aside from the most beautiful roads and views, and of course the local people, support in the race and the food, the most exciting part of my trip thus far has to be the friendships I’ve made in such a short period of time. Off all the races I’ve done so far in my life, this is easily the most social one. Everyone is just so open and friendly.

In the crowd of riders were many famous faces from their respective lands, including the Lebanese Time Trial champion Zaher El Hage and the strongest Israeli female Yarden Avidani.

The Tour started at Princess Beach resort in Larnaca, which was something out of a luxury magazine. I had never seen anything so beautiful. Jonas and I arrived one day before the event on Cyprus Airways, complete with free Cyprus wine, to take our brief moment of “holiday,” but within twenty-four hours’ time, those feelings of rest and relaxation were replaced with the worst pain imaginable. I was suffering literally from head to toe. I had a headache from sweating faster than I could replace the liquids and my feet weren’t used to my road shoes yet. Every single muscle in my body was freaked out. Towards the end of a 110km stage with over 2400 meters of climbing, my ass, hips, lower back, quads, triceps and calves felt like they were only one pedalstroke away from simultaneously cramping. It was a bike-racing rendition of a death march.

Read the full article on the Cyclocross Magazine web site.