Last week, it hit like a bombshell: Eli Iserbyt announced his retirement as a cyclist in an emotional video message. The 28-year-old cyclocross rider shared his story the very next day at a press conference, but in a LinkedIn post, Iserbyt now reveals perhaps his most vulnerable side.
"There you are. In the University Hospital. One on one with your doctor. A man with loads of experience," he begins his story. "In a vain moment of hope, you wait for the results of yet another identical test, the tenth in as many months. Fatigue, fighting spirit, frustration, and despair alternate. Every day you swing from one extreme to the other. But one thing kept me going: hope… Because hope gives you life."
"Eli, please stop. You’re putting your own leg at risk in your search for your old self. We can’t fix this anymore, let alone make it ‘normal.’” My left iliac artery looks on the scan more like a war zone than an artery. The little remaining hope fades away. The ground sinks beneath my feet. And then the question arises: what now?"
Daze
"Since that moment, I’ve been in a daze. A process of acceptance, although sometimes that tiny bit of hope still lingered. In the days that followed, I kept wondering: should I let them operate one more time? That’s how raw it felt these past months…"
Iserbyt and team manager Jurgen Mettepenningen during an emotional press conference - photo: Fotopersburo Cor Vos
However, Iserbyt soon realized that another surgery wouldn’t offer relief. "One more time, I thought. But soon reason took over emotion. The man sitting in front of me has dedicated his entire life to exactly what is my problem. Why should I think I know better than the doctor? Hope… Because hope gives you life."
"The blinkers are off"
Now that the West Flanders native has made the difficult decision to stop, he wants to thank those close to him once again. "How proud I am of ‘Team Eli’. Everyone sees the determined guy on the bike, but don’t forget: without my team, Eli was nothing. [...] And to all the supporters and fans: thank you for the encouragement, the messages, and the support, both along the course and from afar."
"Today, pain, sadness, and frustration prevail. An elite athlete wants to move forward, but today I pause. The blinkers are off. The horse is stabled. The support and warmth I have felt these past days are overwhelming. Now I feel hope again. For the future. And that hope I owe to every one of you."
