Mattie Dodd journal: near misses in Brittany, a breakthrough in Flanders

In his latest journal entry, Rayner Foundation-supported rider Mattie Dodd charts a week at the Tour de Bretagne that left him wanting more – before fighter jets, First World War mines and his team’s first road race win lit up a run through the Ardennes and Flanders. This entry was written before his recent UCI win at Ronde de l’Isard.

I’m not a big coffee drinker — to be honest, I only drink it to try and look like the cultured European my visa says I am. But by the last of seven straight days of racing, I’ll fight you for an espresso, fuelled by the half a kilo of rice I’ve just forced down. The effect that caffeine has on the human body is remarkable, an effect that I was trying my very best to harness by the end of the Tour de Bretagne.

The Tour de Bretagne is probably the biggest .2 stage race in the world

I don’t think I’d be ruffling too many feathers if I said that the Tour de Bretagne is probably the biggest .2 stage race in the world. From an organisational point of view, it’s certainly one of the best races I’ve ever been a part of. Combine that with some great parcours, decent length stages and the fact that Brittany seems to be pretty much identical to most of the south of England (ok, you might have to squint a bit to see the likeness) and I think I’ve found one of my new favourite races. As always with French races, it can be a bit of a lottery with the hotels you end up in, but I’m not someone who’s nearly as fussed by that as others — I’ll happily sleep in a ditch if necessary.

France being the country that hosts some other big bike race, this race drew proper crowds — something that isn’t always a certainty with some .2 races. I’ve been at races where the only spectators are unimpressed cows, so the size of the crowds here (as well as even more cows, some of whom actually seemed mildly curious) was definitely a tick in the plus column. Crowds two or three deep without fail on the final day around Dinan was really pretty cool — in hindsight, that is. The magnitude of the whole fanfare is something I only really truly clocked after the fact. Usually that’s when reviewing the metaphorical tapes of the race in my head while going back to the hotel, the copious amounts of caffeine still in my system having not quite let me fully switch off. I will say that the three blokes in mankinis and bright green balaclavas on the inside of a hairpin were the slight exception to this — if drunk French men dressed as Borat crossed with Irish nationalists doesn’t have the effect of temporarily distracting an oxygen deprived brain, I’m not sure what would.

Every time the race blew up, I felt I was among the strongest there and able to respond to whatever was lobbed in my direction. I didn’t come away with any results to back that up though

From a results point of view, it was a week that left me wanting more. I felt the best I’d felt so far this year after a few months of things not quite seeming to click. Every time the race blew up, I felt I was among the strongest there and able to respond to whatever was lobbed in my direction. I didn’t come away with any results to back that up though. Granted, getting caught behind a late crash, albeit not late enough that it was within the safe haven that is the last 3km, meant I was at a disadvantage early on regarding the GC. A further self-inflicted GC time loss on the fifth stage, having committed to our best chance in a very reduced sprint, meant two 30 second time losses that set me back overall. That said, I blame no one other than myself for that first error, and I’d make the same decision again regarding committing to Milkias on Stage 5.

Enough of my over-self-reflection (that’s a word now), and onto what came next. No rest for the wicked after what worked out as my hardest week on a bike from a numerical point of view — I was back with a number on again on Thursday. Not before a quick trip back to London for a few days to see the dogs though. As I’ve so honestly told my parents, I can speak to them on FaceTime; my two dogs still seem utterly bemused by it and don’t seem to recognise me at all through a phone screen.

It was funny to reflect how out of my depth I was back then, riding one of the hilliest .2 one-day races and, compared to now

Thursday was Flèche Ardennaise, a race which was actually my second ever race as an under-23 in 2023. Despite legs that felt like they were composed of wet concrete (not exactly a surprise after the previous week), the comparison to three years ago was night and day. It was funny to reflect how out of my depth I was back then, riding one of the hilliest .2 one-day races and, compared to now, not really knowing what I was doing in so many of the more intricate aspects of this mad world of bike racing.

We knew as a team that the course wasn’t best suited to us, so went out to give it a whack and see what we could do (to boil down a 45-minute pre-race meeting into fairly ambiguous detail). Having made it to the foot of the hardest climb with thirty-ish km to go, most of our team in the fairly reduced bunch, the few of us with an eye on Gent-Wevelgem a few days later did the job for the team before dropping off. This was shortly after having been buzzed (I believe this is the correct use of Top Gun lingo) by a fighter plane. The various initial reactions to the sound alone were fairly close to causing a mass pile-up, it taking people a few seconds to realise what on earth that was, as well as the fact that we weren’t witnesses to another invasion of Belgium.

As I mentioned, Gent-Wevelgem was on the Sunday after. I say that, it’s not actually called that anymore. I believe the full name of the WorldTour race is In Flanders Fields — From Middelkerke to Wevelgem, while the U23 race is called In Flanders Fields/Kattekoers (you can take a breath now). No one really knows for sure though, so we just settled on “Gent”, despite the fact that the race didn’t even come close to said city. Right, that’s that cleared up.

For those who know me, you’ll know that my other obsession alongside bicycles and the racing thereof is military history. During the First World War, just before the Battle of Passchendaele was launched, the British and Commonwealth forces had to dislodge the German army off the Messines Ridge. To do so, they dug 21 mines underneath the enemy lines, before blowing them up to achieve their desired goal, as well as a substantial change in the geography. So imagine my excitement when I found out the day before that the course went directly over the top of two of those mines, or where they used to be — I feel I should clarify that for the avoidance of doubt. Based on the reactions of teammates when I told them this, I’ve come to the conclusion that they just prefer Second World War history…

Into the climbs, on the climbs, in the crosswinds and on the massive concrete blocks that Belgian road designers seem so fond of, we got it right that day

In other news, we won the bike race! There have been two TT wins for the team this year, but this was the first road race win. As a brand-new team, it’s hardly a surprise that Cam’s win [Ed: Cameron Rogers] in a race like Gent is a pretty big milestone. We had a plan, and executed it really well. Into the climbs, on the climbs, in the crosswinds and on the massive concrete blocks that Belgian road designers seem so fond of, we got it right that day, with him finishing it off with a sneaky final kilometre move.

I then had a week at home before my own DIY mini-Grand Tour, stacking the Ronde de l’Isard and Alpes Isère Tour on top of each other (more about the former soon). To my annoyance though, the World War history in both of those areas doesn’t supply me with as many random dinner-table facts as the Ardennes or Flanders.