XTERRA Belgium: Where It All Began, Where It All Came Together

Photo credit: max_media.be

The photograph says it all.

I'm crossing the finish line at XTERRA Belgium with the biggest smile on my face.

To most people, it probably looks like the smile of someone who has just won a race. And of course, winning one of the most iconic races on the XTERRA World Tour is something I'll always be proud of.

But when I look at that photo, I don't just see a race result.

I see a journey.

XTERRA Belgium was my first ever XTERRA back in 2018. I arrived in Namur with very little mountain bike experience, wondering whether I would even make it around the course. Just finishing felt like an achievement.

Over the years, I've returned several times. Last year I stood on the second step of the podium wondering whether I could ever win here.

This year, I came back with another opportunity.

Eight years after my first XTERRA, I found myself standing on the same start line. The same river. The same trails. The same Citadel towering above the city.

Only this time, everything felt different.

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Returning to Where It All Started

Rob and I arrived in Namur on Wednesday after making the familiar journey from the UK.

Four hours to the Channel Tunnel, then another three hours into Belgium. It's a trip we've done several times now and one we genuinely enjoy. Travelling by car means taking everything we could possibly need and turning race week into part of the adventure rather than a stressful rush through airports.

The weather was classic Belgium. Grey skies, cool temperatures and heavy showers seemed to follow us for most of the journey. Looking at the forecast, it was obvious the race wasn't going to be a dry one.

As we arrived, the familiar landmarks came into view. The River Meuse winding through the city. The cobbled streets. The forest trails. And towering above it all, the Citadel.

Every time I return here, I'm reminded that this is where my XTERRA journey began. The difference now is that the course no longer feels intimidating. After years of racing in Namur, it feels familiar.

I wasn't calm because the race didn't matter. If anything, it mattered more than ever.

But there was confidence that comes from experience.

I knew the venue. I knew the terrain. I knew what race week would look like.

Most importantly, I knew I belonged there.

A Different Relationship with the Course

The course preview took place on Thursday, and I couldn't wait to see what the organisers had created for the event's 10th anniversary.

The bike course was longer than previous years and seemed to have a bit of everything. Long sustained climbs, brutally steep technical climbs, challenging descents and flatter power sections where you could really put the hammer down. It looked like the kind of course that would suit me.

The conditions were already wet and muddy, but honestly, that's exactly what I expected. Belgium and mud seem to go hand in hand.

One of the steepest technical descents on the course had always been a feature I respected. This time I rode it cleanly and rode away feeling completely in control.

That was probably the first moment I thought this course could really suit me.

The trails hadn't changed.

I had.

Nervously anticipating my first XTERRA back in 2018

Same River, Different Athlete

Race morning was surprisingly relaxed.

I had a lie in, got up around 8am and headed out for a coffee with Rob. I deliberately stayed away from social media throughout the week because I wanted to keep my mind clear and avoid getting caught up in what everyone else was doing. Instead, we kept things simple. Coffee, a bit of television, lunch and then it was time to head up to the Citadel.

Having raced here several times before, the logistics felt straightforward. Set up T2 at the Citadel, ride down to the river and set up T1. There was comfort in knowing exactly what needed doing.

But even with all that experience, the nerves were still there.

Standing beside the Meuse pulling on my wetsuit, I could feel them.

I always can.

People often assume confidence means not feeling nervous. I've learned that's not true.

Back in 2018, I remember sitting beside this same river trying to delay getting into the water because my stomach was in knots. The nerves controlled me.

This year the nerves were still present, but my relationship with them had changed.

I didn't fight them.

I didn't try to get rid of them.

I simply accepted they were there and focused on what I needed to do.

The nerves were there, but so was the confidence. I knew I could get around the course. I knew I had the fitness. I knew the terrain suited me. I was nervous, but I was excited too.

Taking Control

The swim began with a deep-water start alongside the elite men. My plan was simple: find some fast feet and hang on for as long as possible.

For the first couple of hundred metres everything went according to plan. Then the group split apart. The strongest male swimmers disappeared up the river and suddenly I found myself leading a chase pack rather than sitting comfortably on someone's feet.

It wasn't ideal, but it wasn't a disaster either.

Instead of forcing the issue, I settled into my own rhythm and focused on swimming efficiently. In fact, I deliberately backed off slightly to conserve energy. All the women were behind me, so if anyone came through I would see them and have the opportunity to respond.

Nobody did.

By the time I exited the water, I was right where I wanted to be. The race was under control and, for the first time all day, I thought this was probably the best start I could have hoped for.

Out on the bike, I initially found myself riding behind XTERRA mountain bike specialist Sébastien Carabin. That lasted until we hit the climb up to the Citadel, where everyone quickly settled into their own race.

Melissa de Brauwer was glued to my wheel as we climbed, but I stayed patient. It was going to be a long day and there was no point trying to win the race in the first ten minutes.

When we reached the more technical sections, the race began to change.

I opened a gap and from that point onwards I never saw the other women again.

Photo credit: max_media.be

A Day Where Everything Clicked

The conditions were incredibly slippery, but unlike last year, I felt completely at ease. Of course I still made mistakes. Everyone does. The difference was that they didn't bother me. I didn't waste energy getting frustrated or dwelling on them. I simply moved on to the next section of trail.

That became my focus for the entire bike leg.

One section at a time.

One climb.

One descent.

One corner.

Rather than thinking about the whole race, I broke everything down into smaller pieces and focused on getting through each one as well as I could.

It was one of those rare days where everything seemed to click.

I'd look down at my power meter expecting to see average numbers and instead find myself comfortably riding strong power. The effort felt controlled, the bike felt good and mentally I was completely locked into the process.

Towards the end of the first lap, multiple-time XTERRA World Champion Nicolas Lebrun pulled alongside me on his bike.

"You have the lead," he said. "Just look after yourself and your bike."

It was good advice.

But I wasn't interested in cruising.

I wasn't going to do anything silly, but I wanted to keep pushing. I wanted to see how much I could get out of myself and how much I could extend the gap.

When I rolled into T2, I knew I was having one of the best races of my career.

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Enjoying the Suffering

The run course was absolutely savage.

Steep climbs, technical terrain and constant changes in rhythm. The sort of run course that makes XTERRA Belgium what it is.

And I loved it.

Rob's instruction leaving transition was simple: take it at 80% and stay in control.

That's exactly what I did.

At the halfway point of the first lap we came back through the transition area and Rob gave me the update.

Eight minutes.

I had an eight-minute lead.

In XTERRA, that doesn't mean the race is over. Anything can happen. A crash, or one bad decision can change everything very quickly.

But that gap did allow me to do something I'd never really been able to do here before.

Enjoy it.

Instead of chasing, forcing and fighting for every second, I could flow around the course.

The pressure eased slightly and I was able to appreciate what was happening around me.

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Completing the Circle

As I worked my way through the final technical sections of the run, I knew the race was mine if I stayed focused.

For the first time all day, I allowed myself to think about what was about to happen.

I thought about all the years in between. The training sessions, the setbacks, the sacrifices and the lessons learned along the way.

I thought about Rob standing out there in the pouring rain all day. About everything he has sacrificed to support me through this journey. He can't race anymore and, in many ways, I feel like I race for both of us now.

As the finish line came into view, I finally allowed myself to believe it.

Last year, I crossed this same finish line in second place wondering whether I could ever win here.

This year, I wasn't wondering anymore.

Crossing the line wasn't relief.

It wasn't disbelief.

It was pure joy.

Photo credit: max_media.be

XTERRA Belgium has been part of my story from the very beginning. It's the race where I discovered off-road triathlon, where I learned to mountain bike, where I learned to race, and where I learned that progress often takes longer than you think.

Back in 2018, I arrived hoping to survive the course.

In 2026, I crossed the finish line as the winner.

The doubts never completely vanished.

But over eight years, I learned to manage them.

And sometimes, if you keep showing up, keep learning, and keep believing, you end up standing exactly where you never imagined you could.

For me, that place was the top step in Namur.

Photo credit: max_media.be