It took Stijn Devolder six hours, 24 minutes and two seconds to ride all 264 kilometers of this year’s Ronde van Vlaanderen, Belgium’s Tour of Flanders.

It took me a bit longer. Scratch that. It took a lot longer; another four-and-a-half hours, to be exact.

Yes, on the eve of the Tour of Flanders, I took on the Ronde van Vlaanderen Cyclesportif, the popular race/ride for amateurs and tourists that traces nearly all of Flanders’ route. My journey across the rolling Flanders countryside, from Bruges to Meerbeke, took around 11 hours. And somewhere along that route — perhaps on the Paddestraat’s teeth-rattling cobbles or the Koppenberg’s nasty 22-percent pitch — I gained a new perspective on and appreciation for Belgium’s most popular single-day race. It turns out that race is a real kick in the tail.

I also earned two tired legs and one sore ass, as well as a powerful disdain for Belgium’s freezing rain, gusting winds and ever-present aroma of cow shit. And the race’s official sports drink, a sugary Swiss swill called Isostar, which was doled out at each rest stop.

But that is another story for another time and place. Those of you wanting to chuckle at my personal misery can read a full account of my Ronde experience in the “At the Back” section of an upcoming issue of VeloNews, probably in issue No. 8 due to hit newsstands in early May.

This column is for those who might have an urge to try the Cyclesportif themselves. Having completed it, I would recommend one of the event’s several different routes to any cyclist of any ability. Here’s a rundown of what you might expect.

The Ronde Cyclesportif is part of the Lotto Cycling Tour, a group of amateur rides including the Peter Van Petegem Classic (April 20), Tilf-Bastogne-Tilf (May 11) and the Hellentocht Paris-Roubaix event on August 30. Each is part of a winning formula. In Belgium, where cyclists abound and cycling fans number in the millions, folks want to try riding the routes they see on TV. The Amstel Gold race in the Netherlands holds its own event the day before the event, and its 3000 spots fill up in a matter of weeks.

The Ronde Cyclosportif attracts even bigger crowds. How big? Between Belgians and foreigners, some 25,000 riders showed last year. Promoters estimated that nearly 18,000 riders participated in 2008, despite the crappy weather.

Like any good amateur event, the Ronde Cyclesportif features a variety of options. Road cyclists can tackle the full 259km route, which starts in Bruges, or 140km and 75km routes that begin in Ninove. Mountain bikers can ride 75km, 54km or 28km. All six routes feature the course’s famous brutal climb up the Mur de Grammont. Each costs 20 Euro, with a 5 Euro refund at the finish line when you turn in your number plate.

Anyone can register for the rides on the race’s website. Race-day registration is quick and easy, and does not carry a penalty fee.

Ignoring advice from my peers, I decided to ride the big one. It made sense — I am based a short ride from Bruges, I don’t have a car and I enjoy stupidly long bicycle rides. Curiosity also played a part. I mean, how does it feel to finish the full length of a spring classic?

My plan was to ride the Ronde route from Bruges to the finish line just out of Ninove, then grab a train in Ninove back to Bruges. Simple enough, right?

Riders embarking on the full shebang crowded Market Square in Bruges, where the pros start, and began leaving at 6:30 a.m., when it was still dark. Each rider showed a marshal his Ronde punch card. Marshals punched these cards at five stations along the way, and cards with all five punches could be exchanged for an official finisher’s certificate.

I arrived at close to 7:30, just past sun-up. The queue was still sizable, but it was moving quickly. The line to register was nonexistent, but the process remained a tad confusing. At one tent I received an information sheet, which I filled out with my name, contact information and a signature to prove I was in “good shape.” This sheet was taken to another tent where I paid and received my number plate and a few slips of paper, all of which were written in Flemish.

Don’t make the mistake I made and throw these away. One of them is your punch card.

For my train ride back to Bruges I brought a change of clothes in a backpack. A nondescript van parked at the base of the sign-in podium was accepting bags for transport to the finish line. I gave them mine, waited about 10 minutes to step on the podium and was off and riding at around 8 a.m.

Now, why, you may ask, did the journey take the elite men just over six hours and me 11? Well, aside from the obvious reasons, guys like Fabian Cancellara, Tom Boonen and Juan Antonio Flecha didn’t have to worry about automobile traffic or stop lights. I soon found out on my way out of Bruges that all of the roads I would be riding on that day were very open and loaded with cars. Riders are expected to obey all traffic signals and road signs, although many do not.

The pros also get to ride on the road, while we cycletourists were restricted to the bike path. Yes, running adjacent to nearly every road in Belgium is the bike path, which resembles a sidewalk. It's quite bumpy, constructed either of bricks or pavers. The first 100 miles or so of the Ronde Cyclesportif was almost entirely run on this three-foot-wide strip of pavement.

Once we entered the many small towns, the ride took on the feel of a bike-messenger rally, as riders squeezed between honking cars and yelling pedestrians alike. While riding in a large drafting group proved to be useful in the countryside, it was very sketchy in the urban areas.

Waffles for everyone!

The hammerheads took to the front early, pulling large groups of drafters like myself in their wake. Every several hours the group would hit a checkpoint and chaos would ensue as riders pushed their way forward to get their tickets punched and fill up on Isostar and waffles. Yes, Ronde riders are kept going by Belgium’s official delicacy. I must have eaten 20 of the things.

Once back on the bikes, the deck reshuffled as smaller groups reformed. This drill went on for about six hours as we spun across the flat roads through town after town. Lucky for me, Jamie Stathas, a Los Angelean in town for the ride, kept me from dying of boredom.

Having completed the Ronde ride, I'd recommend the 175km route because the first 100 miles of the Tour of Flanders is, well, not that interesting. The first five hours consist of riding through small towns and the flat Belgian countryside, which in the spring reeks from recently sprayed manure.

Unless your name is Boonen, you'll probably end up walking the Koppenberg

Don’t get me wrong — grunting up the Koppenberg and Muur de Grammount was a unique and rewarding experience. The Koppenberg was clogged with riders pushing their bikes. Despite the traffic, I nearly cleared the steepest pitch before hooking handlebars with a man pushing his rig and putting my own foot down.

But by the time I reached the two crunching climbs, I was already seven or eight hours into my ride, with motivation and energy fading fast.

The finish line in Meerbeke didn’t come a moment too soon. A 10-minute ride to the race’s expo in Ninove provided me with my change of clothes, my finisher’s certificate and a much-needed bratwurst (I had grown a little tired of waffles).

The train ride back to Bruges proved to be another adventure. From Ninove, I had to take the hourly train to Alst, transfer to a more frequent train to Gent, and then catch the train to Bruges. The ticket (with a bike) cost 16 Euros. I left Ninove just before 9 p.m. and arrived in Bruges just past 11. The entire experience, door to door, lasted 16 hours.

For any potential Ronde Cyclesportif riders, I hope this account of my own experience proves useful. Completing the entire 259km route is a major challenge and should not be taken lightly. For those looking for a taste of the race’s highlights, I recommend one of the shorter routes. But for fools like me, who just have to know what it feels like to ride a classic, be my guest and bite the big one. I’m sure you’ll find the same answer that I did.

It hurts like hell.