When I announced my retirement at the end of July, I was really surprised by the reaction it prompted on Instagram. I won two smaller races at the beginning of my career but never a UCI pro race, and I was never really made for a life in the spotlight, so to have so many messages from my colleagues, so many of them legends of the sport, it really hit me and meant a lot. I actually didn’t realise how appreciated I was. In the bunch everyone is on the limit and always stressed, and there are a lot of arguments among riders in the heat of the moment, so it was nice to read those comments and see that maybe I wasn’t the biggest arsehole of the bunch after all!
Most people assume because of my nickname that I have a background in farming, but that’s not actually true. In 2017, during my first race for Quick-Step at the Vuelta a San Juan, an Argentinian commentator called me ‘El Tractor’ because I was pulling the peloton for the whole race. The team’s PR manager asked me if I liked the nickname and I said I did, it suits me, because I know I’m certainly not ‘El Ferrari’! From then on, that’s what I’ve been known as. It’s nice to have a nickname that resonates quite well with who I am and what I’m good at.
I have to be honest that when you start your cycling career, nobody dreams of being a rider like me. Everyone wants to be the next Mathieu Van der Poel, Tadej Pogačar, Mads Pedersen, guys who ride finales and win races. But I knew early on that I lacked explosivity at the end of races, yet always tended to do better in long, hard races. I also knew from studying sports science at university that I was probably suited to pulling in the bunch. Echelons, too, were something I loved. OK, the build-up is not nice when everyone wants to be among the first 20 riders at the front of the group, and so everyone goes so fast and so dangerous until the echelons form. That’s horrible. But when the peloton is splitting, there is so much adrenaline – it’s a kind of painful enjoyment that, for me, is one of the nicest things about bike racing; indeed, a big split in the group is how Yves Lampeart and I were 1-2 at Brugge De Panne in 2020.
I was racing for Topsport Vlaanderen for five years and always hoped to make it to the WorldTour, so I was very grateful when Patrick Lefevere gave me the chance to do so aged 27. He saw that I could do more than what my results suggested. It was a career-defining moment and I’ll forever be thankful to Patrick, but I wouldn’t change a thing about my career. I enjoyed my years as a student, enjoyed going out and drinking and partying in my first two years as an U23 rider, and am happy that I lived in another era of cycling when bike racing could be in the background. Nowadays to be a pro cyclist you have to completely sacrifice the rest of your life, but eventually there will come a moment when things don’t go as planned and you don’t have other identities or skills to fall back on. It’s important to know that and to address that. I’m glad I did by finishing university.
I’ve been so lucky that I rode for a lot of great leaders, but the most special was riding for Lampaert – it’s not often you can work for your best friend. It was a privilege to work for Mark Cavendish, so nice to work for Remco Evenepoel, and though it’s only been for the national team, it always felt natural to work for Wout van Aert. Mads Pedersen, Tim Merlier, Tom Boonen, Philippe Gilbert, Julian Alaphilippe, too – there have been so many great guys. The biggest champions are always the ones who are grateful for the work you did even when the result wasn’t what you wished. The best moment? Cav winning his first of four stages at the 2021 Tour. That was a fairytale. Or when I was second behind Yves at Brugge-De Panne. When I needed motivation on the rollers, I always rewatched that race.
There have been setbacks too of course. In 2022, not long after having Covid, I was diagnosed with pericarditis, an inflammation of the heart tissue. It was at the Volta a Algarve when I first noticed something wasn’t right. Every time I breathed, my diaphragm pressed up against the pocket of my heart and it caused me so much pain. I wasn’t thinking it was a problem with my heart as you can’t feel your heart. I was very grateful that the Quick-Step doctor Philip Jansen noticed it, and that it wasn’t anything more serious. If I had known, I would have panicked a lot. But it was still very scary.
What will I miss the most being a pro? Definitely the social side of it: stopping for a coffee, staying longer at the dinner table, living like a family when at a training camp or when the non-Belgians come to Belgium for the Classics and stay in the same hotel for a month. Fortunately, though, I won’t be drifting away. I’m becoming a coach with Soudal Quick-Step and I hope to have the same satisfaction in my life. I love to help other guys get victories and I think this will be no different. I think I am one of a few guys who has the theoretical and practical background of how to do well in Grand Tours and Classics, and I hope I can become one of the best coaches. Before all that though, my last race will be my own criterium in the town I live in, Hooglede, on November 1. It’ll be a nice way to say goodbye, and I can guarantee there’ll be a great party.
