Muscles for muscles

Three countries point Vaals
120 kilometres
Cold, hills & gravel

Limburg - The spring sun made its appearance in the south. The winter kilometres are bearing fruit today. After all, the first classic of this triptych is about to start. And how could it be otherwise than that the kick-off takes place in Vaals. Where border post number 1 towers high above the Netherlands. Resting on its eight-sided pedestal, the cast-iron colossus waves out to the pedal knights, after which they start a rapid descent towards the foot of the Netherlands' highest mountain (322m).

In this training ground of the pros, we climb and descend across the border into Belgium. Picturesque villages loom in the distance, vast landscapes mark the view. At least, if you have time-and breath-to enjoy it. No, you don't get the first border posts classic for free. You have to earn it. Altimeter after altimeter.
Even if you have the legs of speed demon Jos van Emden or Bram Tankink aka The beast from the east, it's still a matter of switching to the right mountain gear in time, getting out of your saddle when Limburg forces you to do so, breathing deeply, dosing your strength and, above all, having a great appetite to find the next cone-shaped border guard in the thicket, somewhere between the hills of the Netherlands and Belgium.

And exactly there, in the first part of the ride where the earth folds, is today's centre of gravity, Bram Tankink knows from hours and hours of training experience. Exactly how many kilometres he has done in the Heuvelland he does not know. ''But believe me, I too have broken down at least once everywhere here,'' he reveals.
Still, even though he rode the snot out of his eyes, Bram was lashed by the rain, chilled by a bleak spring wind or his body protested against pushing his limits, a smile always crept onto his face when he smelt the town of Teuven.
''My own Cape of Good Hope,'' he smiled seductively at the idea of a well-earned cup of coffee and apple pie. After which he rode home freewheeling. Not because he had any energy left, ''No, because I was tired,'' Bram winks.
''After all, as a pro, you are always trying to make yourself tired. To adorn yourself in perseverance. Pushing limits. Equipped you are only on the day of the race, so then you can go to shit again.''

Sound intense? Think of it as a challenge! Surpass yourself with this early spring classic and pedal along from Vaals, via the Voerstreek to Maastricht. In this beautiful stretch, don't forget to stop at number 12, Jos's favourite pole: ''How firm it always stands there, it's almost a proud pole!'' He smiles.
When his workouts are tough, or his head begs for a break, Jos gets off his carbon steed and dives under the oak tree of border post 12, which guards the very tip of South Limburg. From here, you have a fine view of a patch of horizon where Beusdaal castle attracts attention.
Jos: ,,That should actually have belonged to the Netherlands. But the Belgian who lived there wanted the valley to belong to Belgium anyway. So he shifted the borders.''
Like you this trip. After all, it takes strength to deflect uphill with a headwind along the river Meuse to yet another special sentinel. Or, Bram's metal friend.
Close to the bridge over the motorway, he regularly sits down to record videos for his former colleague and great friend Jos.
''This place too, near Kotem and Boorsem, used to be the Netherlands. Until the Meuse took a different course...'' muses Bram.
And so each pole has its own story, but dwelling on it for too long is out of the question. Then you get cold, this mid-March. Besides, it is high time to drive back to the Drielandenpunt via the Limburg hills. With your lips to a well-deserved head of foam, you can conclude that the first dozen border posts are a fact, as well as 120 kilometres and a proud feeling!