I had almost forgotten about them, those looks. Seemingly unobtrusive, but at the same time analytical and penetrating. I am scrutinised from head to toe as I roll into the starting block. Whoever is already standing there seems to be subjecting me to a full body scan. Bike, clothes, legs, probably even body fat - everything is checked. I can literally hear the thoughts in their heads: "Has he got what it takes?" "Is he a danger?" It's a dubious attempt to deduce from external characteristics which watts have presumably been kicked. It's a strange procedure that is as much a part of every bike race as the race number and the starting gun. This is also demonstrated by the fact that shortly afterwards I find myself sizing up the others. "Who looks trained? And who is that young guy in the front in the national team kit?" I'm just as curious as the others.
Almost two years have passed since the last big Jedermann race: The Münsterland Giro 2019 ended the last normal cycling season in Germany. Then came coronavirus and with it the flood of cancellations. Hardly any races took place, some were postponed and then later cancelled. It was a long dry spell for me, my Strassacker team and all the like-minded people. Lockdown followed lockdown, training camps were cancelled, at times we weren't even allowed to train together or at most in pairs.
A corrosive time - even for those who love competition. For a short time, the KOM hunt on Strava, the spontaneous gravel weekend in Belgium or these Everesting, 200-kilometre or 300-kilometre challenges were also quite cool. But in the long run? All just substitute drugs. The real kick is the race. Not these digital versions with avatars and pixel landscapes. No, the real thing, in the open air and with real opponents. That's why we're all standing here again, at the start in the centre of Nuremberg.
The starting line runs white and straight across the bumpy cobblestones of the main market square. It is packed with cyclists. The Deutschland Tour has invited everyone to take part in the Jedermann race, and a good 2,300 starters have turned up, all immunised, tested or recovered. While the course announcer counts down, I put my FFP2 mask in my jersey pocket and take another deep breath. Bang! Finally, we're off. A guide vehicle leads us out of the city, neutralised. A good idea, because the roads are wet and everyone at the front is pretty motivated. As the flag is waved from the roof of the car, the gears immediately click and the jumping starts. 50, 52, 55 km/h ... Single file.
The start phase at the front of everyman races is always like this. A few riders don't know what to do with their strength and think they can decide the race in the first few kilometres. It never works, but everyone quickly forgets about it. As the initial excitement subsides, there is time for the odd chat like "long time no see" or "fit?". One of them asks me with a grin: "Do you have any plans today?" Another rider is not quite so relaxed. "Strassacker! What are you doing here?" he snorts at me. "Riding licence races, but not here!" He has obviously forgotten that he himself rides both licence races and amateur races like this one.
The eternal dispute
The discussion that my neighbour is opening up here at almost 50 km/h is almost as old as the Jedermann races themselves. The booming events attracted more and more cyclists in the wake of the team telecoms euphoria in the 2000s, and teams like ours were soon formed. Initially independent of established cycling clubs, some of them are now closely linked to them and have their own licensed teams. The attractive race courses of the Jedermann races attract many ambitious riders - and also the prospect of riding in a strong team. It's more fun together. And you are also more successful together.
But was that even the original idea? Should everyman races be about success, winning and placing? Nobody invited the competitive elite to the party, says one faction of recreational riders. "Everyman" means every man (and woman), says the other. Regardless of who is right: Everyman races at the top have long been run like amateur licence races - ambitious, fast and for results. This could also be due to the fact that licensed racers have been permitted for a long time.
You can also see this in the material: aero wheels, carbon wheels, wattmeters, ceramic bearings, race inserts, nose patches - nothing is left to chance here, every watt counts. This also seems to apply to the unknown rider in red, who once again attacks. At a wave after a good ten kilometres, he shakes everyone off and rides away, crouched low over his handlebars. All eyes are now on my team, also because we are the only larger team at the front with seven starters. After all, we won the last two editions of the Jedermann-Deutschland-Tour in Stuttgart and Erfurt. We line up, stretch out in front of the field with a few people - and still don't get any closer to the soloist. No wonder, as we later realise: The incognito breakaway rider in neutral clothing is Tobias Häckl, winner of the Kitzbühel Cycle Marathon and above all the King of the Lake - an absolute time trial specialist. Was it a mistake to let him ride?
Shortly afterwards, another rider proves that individual starters can be dangerous for the teams. On the Rüsselbacher Berg, a young rider sprints away on the steep section with an ease that leaves everyone behind him astonished. How does that work? I now know: that's Mauro Brenner, the boy from the starting line-up with the national team kit. He is the younger brother of DSM pro Marco Brenner and has recently started riding for the German U19 team. "I just pressed the accelerator on the hill," the 17-year-old from Augsburg tells me later, somewhat mischievously; and that he only weighs 50 kilos. This goes some way to explaining why the laws of gravity don't seem to apply to this boy. Brenner flies up the mountain. He says that an Everyman race like this is a nice, tough test for the international races that are still to come, and you can tell that this young man still has big plans in cycling. My team-mates Benni Koch, Luca Wittrock and Roberto Vukovic are able to follow him with difficulty and a bit of a gap. The rest of the field breaks up.
Suffering together
The race is less than 40 kilometres old and I already have to go really deep. My pulse is pounding at my temples. The power meter is constantly showing values above 400 and yet the front runners are pulling away from me. Whew. Next to me, my teeth are clenched and I'm panting. So the others are suffering too, a small consolation. Once I've sorted myself out again after the crest, the race situation is clear: our three team riders have caught the early breakaway rider Tobias Häckl together with the young Brenner and now form a five-man lead group. Behind them, we are riding in a dramatically reduced field of perhaps 40 riders. All the others have nothing more to do with the outcome of this race.
Because on selective courses such as the 108 kilometres from Nuremberg to Franconian Switzerland and back, random victories are out of the question, even in everyman races. You have to be in really good form to be able to keep up with the pace of the best on the climbs. Quite a few of the top riders here already have more than 10,000 kilometres on the clock by the end of August. This also surprises ex-pro Johannes Fröhlinger, who is riding in the front field, but without ambitions. "I'm surprised at how strong the guys at the front are," says Fröhlinger, who has ridden 15 Grand Tours as a professional and, by his own account, well over 1,000 cycle races. He is taking part in Nuremberg because he still enjoys cycling fast on closed roads.
Final in superior numbers
Whether ex-professional, aspiring professional, amateur or hobby rider: after the long break from racing, we all want to experience the feeling of speed again. That's why everyone is here. It's like a rush. We plunge down a partly wet descent at more than 80 kilometres an hour. And because that's not fast enough, a few of the people in front of me hunker down with their bums on the top tube. The "supertuck" ban among the pros has somehow not yet arrived here. The main thing is to be fast. Only my team-mates and I don't really like the speed frenzy in the peloton. Because we have other goals: Again and again we let ourselves be swept to the front of the peloton and barely noticeably slow down in order to maintain the gap to our team-mates at the front. That doesn't necessarily make us any friends in the peloton, but that's not the point of the exercise.
As in the peloton, my colleagues also play the teamwork card in the leading group. Together they neutralised attacks by the young Mauro Brenner and also used their superior numbers in the final. Benni Koch is unbeatable in the sprint and wins, while our talented Luca Wittrock finishes second ahead of Mauro Brenner in his first ever bike race. Behind them, it's all about the places in the field. At Nuremberg Central Station, someone on the outside lane opens the sprint early and takes the rest by surprise. Behind! We throw our handlebars back and forth, chasing over the tarmac. Our legs get heavier with every pedal stroke, but the finish line is still some way off. Bite. An opponent on the left is getting closer and closer. Hold out. Shortly before the finish line, he pushes past. No matter, ninth place, in the top ten. And my team-mate has won. Shortly after the finish line, we fall into each other's arms. High-fives, cheers, congratulations. I'd almost forgotten the emotion. Nothing in sport is better.
