Things have been kind of shaky for me here in Holland. For one, I got absolutely drubbed in my first race on the ice. Two, the weather has been pitiful beyond belief. (Unfortunately, I'm not staying anywhere near a covered track. The weather forecasters keep saying it's the wettest winter of the century, which means it's way too warm for natural ice. My Oma (grandmother) and Mr. Kaagman, my Dutch "father", both say they can't ever remember such a wet winter.) And three, I've got a serious case of cabin fever - I have a pesky flu bug that I haven't been able to get rid of for two weeks. If all this sounds like a reason for taking a vacation from skating vacation in Holland, it is. But wait.

Things haven't been all bad. In spite of the setbacks, I've been enjoying my stay here immensely. Given enough time, in fact, my memory fills in the low points and becomes a field of flowers that knows no winter, for this particular trip to Holland has one singular bright spot that won't be diminished by anything so far or anything that happens from here on out Every dog has his day, and luckily I had mine. You see, the reason I've been enjoying my skating vacation so much is that I won a marathon race in Utrecht - an achievement that's been eluding me for two years.

It went like this:

I went to the dressing room and donned my HIND stealth suit, consisting of black tights, black top, black wool hat, and black gloves. To top it off, I have black skates, making me fairly indiscernible from the night sky. Well, that was indeed my strategy, to blend into the night so well as to be able to launch from the pack unnoticed. And that's what happened.

After just a few laps into the 50 lap race, a veteran skater took off and I saw that the pack didn't regard him as much of a threat, because no one gave chase. I decided to take my chances and set out after him. Two people off on adventure is still no cause for alarm, so the pack let us swim off the front by ourselves. For a few laps we took turns leading, but after a while my escape companion starting petering out, and I wasn't about to wait for him. By that time we had built a lead of about 90 meters - almost a full straightaway. There was no turning back. Egged on by the announcer and the cheering of the public, I bit the bullet and plunged headlong into what - for all intents and purposes - could be labeled a suicide mission.

Around I came on the next lap, and I heard over the loudspeakers that my lead had grown to 93 meters. When my advantage had improved to 94.5 meters by the following lap, the announcer began sounding the alarm for the pack. "Eddy Matzger is an inline skater from America," he said, "who competes with the big boys over here. He's known not to lose his wind in the longer races. Watch out for him." When I had heard this over the loudspeakers, I knew my cover had been blown and I would have to work extra hard to stay out front. It was certainly enough to light a fire under the pack - they started giving serious chase, and after another lap my lead had shrunk by a few meters.

I too started pouring it on a little harder, even though I was uncertain that I could keep up this tempo for much longer. My legs were starting to feel as if they had oatmeal in them, but I could see that I was being rewarded for my extra efforts - as I exited the turn on either end, I could glance across the track and see the head of the pack still on the opposite straightaway. That meant I had only 200 meters to go before I caught the tail end of the pack.

The announcer saw the danger in this too, and made some more rousing comments about how you could see that, in pressing on like I was, I had to be "strong, strong as steel." Hearing this, the pack redoubled their efforts to catch me, but didn't gain much ground. Out of the 70 competitors in the race, there just weren't enough people to take the initiative to cooperate in their efforts to mow me down. I took advantage of their indecision by riding steadily onward, and soon, as I rounded the corner, I was presented with one of the most marvelous sights that any marathon skater can ever see in a race on a 400 meter track: the back of the pack before it disappears around the far turn.

When I saw the tail of that pack I suddenly didn't feel my burning legs anymore - I only felt the need to redouble my efforts at catching them before the flame went out. In the space of a few more laps, with the help of the announcer and the crowd - who both obviously wanted to see me succeed - I was able to bridge those last meters with great effort. Lo! I found myself in the shelter of the pack again. I was able to recover fairly rapidly, and soon I was reattacking , consolidating my lead by chasing down anybody who tried attacking.

Unfortunately, my subsequent surges, were shut down fairly quickly, partially because my power reserves were low after my draining solo escapade, but also because no skaters were going to allow themselves to be embarrassed by letting me get away a second time. Well, after the bell sounded for the last lap, I had the luxury of pulling over and letting everybody duke it out for second place. Any skater who laps the pack once automatically must skate a ceremonial extra two laps , and I had the luxury of skating those last two laps by myself, thankful that I didn't have to keep track where everybody else was.

Of course I gave the perfunctory two-arms-raised-in-the-air victory salute as I went over the finish line, something I'd never been able to do on the ice before. And that was that, my first ever win on the ice. I fear that that won't happen again soon. You see, this time I gambled early on and won. But next time, I'll be more of a known quantity, and a chase will be organized much earlier. I'll keep trying, though. Most of all, even more than trying to get into the best possible shape of my life, I'm still looking for the right place to push with my skates - the place that translates into maximum speed. Unfortunately, that's not something that simply comes overnight. If I can just sharpen up my technique some more, maybe soon I'll be able to give a scare to the big boys as well.