Only a few mountains separate Mas from the glory of the Vuelta a España

The contenders for the laurel, the aspirants for the maillot rojo, lowered their heads and weapons, resignation or weaknesses, a roll with their gaze fixed on the rearview mirror, no one take what’s mine away from me. Neither Roglic, nor Gall, nor Carapaz nor anyone said this is mine in the penultimate challenge of the Vuelta, rugged terrain and a missed opportunity. Jauja for Enric Mas, who got through the day without surprises or weaknesses, nothing strange because he has not shown any cracks in the competition because he knows he is the strongest, because he exudes confidence in spades, because no one can match his engine in this Vuelta, because it seems his rivals have even bowed to his hierarchy. One day of drums and trumpets remains, a battle, supposedly a day for attacks that were not seen on the way to Peñas Blancas, the place where Eddie Dunbar (Q36.5) was crowned to the dismay and drama of Buitrago, who lost the stage in the final meters. One last breath, five mountains and glory ahead.

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For Enric Mas, the last Giro was an unexpected blow, one that wounded his pride. Everything was structured around his statements, admitting he went to Italy in search of the podium, a warning that faded at the first hurdle, nailed to the pavement on the initial climbs, goodbye and good riddance. It was hard for the Movistar cyclist to understand the fiasco, as he believed his numbers were excellent, that he had already forgotten the thrombophlebitis operation and a hand tear after a silly fall when he was returning to training, a lost year. Until he came to the conclusion that his records were not in competition, where they demand you push when they want and not when you wish. A weakness highlighted in the media, because the fish dies by the mouth. More pride wounded. And Mas persisted, prepared conscientiously and competed in the Vuelta a Burgos to approach the Vuelta from a different profile, a much more measured and prudent one, at least outwardly because the team was clear that the cyclist would be among the elite of the competition. But from there to winning the Vuelta was more than one step.

The first, supposedly insurmountable, was Pogacar, who in a flash made it clear that the laurel would be his if misfortune did not appear. But it did appear in the form of a crash that broke his collarbone and a vertebra, next time will be. And Mas, who said he didn’t deserve it, donned the maillot and immediately consecrated himself in the following mountains, his second victorious stage in the Vuelta. The first was in 2018, still an unknown cyclist, then a rider in full effervescence who finished second on the podium in his second tour. It was the birth of a star, they said; “My successor,” Alberto Contador defined him, a poor favor because the Mallorcan choked on the responsibility and pressure, also the demand because there was only one Contador. But Mas, persevering, always a reliable engine, achieved three second places in the Vuelta (2018, 2021, and 2022), as well as a third (2024) and two other top-ten finishes, the same as in the Tour. A sensational resume that, however, labeled him as a runner-up because only one wins, because labels are free. Until now, that, after explaining once again at Peñas Blancas that he has more legs than anyone, he has the gold medal around the corner, once he only needs to win one stage; one, that is, a killer.

With the usual tightness at the start in picturesque Vélez-Málaga due to the magnetism this cycling has and a Vuelta still undefined despite Mas having it in the bag, the Vuelta caravan started a bone-breaking stage, with more than 4,000 meters of positive elevation, two mountains and a colossus (Peñas Blancas) to overcome, a crag that crowned Carapaz in 2022. Stefan Küng was missing from the lineup, who made a veni, vidi, vinci and left, since after consecrating himself in the time trial of the previous day, he decided to quietly exit to prepare for the World Championship in Canada. A farewell that has multiplied since the race began, as only 145 riders remain from the 168 who started through the streets of Montecarlo, crashes, heat, and other priorities. But that did not prevent, once again, committed to effort and competition, perhaps because after a rest day and another time trial the oxygen returned to the lungs, the cyclists offered a spectacle among mountains, another electrifying day. All except the créme de la créme of the peloton, who raised the white flag to Mas’s delight.

Attacks followed at the start, but it was not until after kilometer 30 that the breakaway was forged, although fleeting because attempts multiplied on the slope, a punishment for the legs, a torment for the head because 125 kilometers of stage remained. However, it happened that the multicolored snake struggled to validate the escape because EF, surprisingly, had other plans, as they wanted to set the pace and control the race, while eroding rivals and, why not, catapulting Carapaz for his assault on the podium or, at least, the stage. So, also between attack and attack from the restless Kuss, besides Roglic’s surge to show he was not going to give up early, the licenses ended, regrouped. It was, again, something ephemeral because already, reaching kilometer 110 and almost topping the second climb, a group of 16 cyclists – among whom stood out Buitrago (Bahrain), Berrade (Kern Pharma), Leknessund (Uno-X), Vermaerke (UAE)… and Dunbar, of course – broke away from the peloton, on the way to success.

The big group slowed down after the mountain assaults and everyone met at the last climb, Peñas Blancas, almost 19 kilometers of wear, with slopes up to 15%. But there were no drums of war nor… anything at all.

Bora, under Roglic’s orders, took the lead and Decathlon, under Gall’s command, did not challenge their hierarchy. A strong pace but not burning, even though the peloton had already split, barely thirty in contention. Mas cared little, who always knew how to defend rather than attack, comfortable without the obligation to win stages, beyond safeguarding the maillot rojo and composure against his rivals. And without being demanded much, he held his own and the maillot with a feeling of absolute superiority, comfortable with the pace Juan Rodríguez set for his leader Carapaz, barely disturbed by Roglic’s timid and unbridled attack when barely two kilometers remained. Little for Mas, for the best of this Vuelta.

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