, a former World Tour pro who has already proven he can drop the best in the world. They have a three-minute head start. In the world of professional cycling, the standard math suggests a peloton needs one minute per ten kilometers to catch a breakaway. But
isn't a group; he is a specialized machine capable of holding 370 watts for an hour without breaking his aero tuck.
The Engine Room Falters
Action begins with a surge of adrenaline and a tactical blunder. One of the nerds fumbles his gearing at the start line, a reminder that under pressure, the simplest mechanics can betray you. As the three-man team rotates, the reality of the task sets in. To stay away, they need cohesion. They need every rider to pull their weight at 300 to 450 watts. But fitness is a fickle friend. Early into the chase,
is a study in efficiency. He understands that races aren't won on the fast descents where aero gains plateau; they are won on the climbs. He pushes his output to 400 watts on the inclines, carving into the deficit with surgical precision. By the end of lap three, 39 kilometers in, the three-minute buffer has vanished. He has clawed back 80 seconds in just a few kilometers, moving at a pace that makes the presenters look like they are standing still.
data, are a sobering reminder of the gulf between enthusiast and elite. Even with a significant time advantage and a rotation of riders, a single World Tour engine can systematically dismantle a group. The struggle reveals the core of endurance sport: you cannot hide from the numbers. Whether it's the wind or the sheer wattage of a pro, the road eventually takes what it's owed.
