“We took part in the ‘World Championship Pancake Eating’... Victor put away 17” – How Campenaerts once ‘risked diabetes’ with insane eating challenge

Victor Campenaerts has built a reputation in professional cycling for pushing limits. On the bike, that has meant Hour Record attempts, relentless breakaways and an engine that rarely seems to empty. Off it, apparently, it once meant devouring 17 pancakes in a single sitting.

The story surfaced via Tim Declercq on the Stamcafé Koers podcast, as he recounted the exploits of his riding group De Melkerie, which includes riders such as Yves Lampaert, Bert Van Lerberghe, Stijn Steels – and, crucially, Campenaerts.

“We took part in the ‘World Championship Pancake Eating’,” Declercq laughed as he retold the story. “But we stopped after two years, otherwise we would’ve developed diabetes.”

It started innocently enough. The group had discovered a café in Torhout offering unlimited pancakes and a coffee for €5.50. For most customers, that deal was safe. Three pancakes, maybe five at a push, and the owner would still come out ahead.

Professional cyclists, however, do not think like most customers.

“In the beginning, it was Victor’s idea,” Declercq explained. “We said, ‘We’re going there.’”

The café owner had not factored in the caloric demands, or competitive instincts, of a group of elite endurance athletes. The pancakes were large, Declercq stressed, not dainty café portions. “Most people would eat three to five. With that, he could make his money back,” he said.

Campenaerts did not stop at five. “I think Victor put away seventeen or nineteen pancakes,” Declercq revealed. “Financially, it probably wasn’t the best day of that man’s life.”

The number alone is absurd. Even in a sport where riders routinely burn thousands of calories in a single training ride, seventeen full-sized pancakes in one sitting pushes into the realm of folklore.

The episode did not remain a one-off. A year later, the unofficial “World Championship Pancake Eating” was staged again. By then, the group had decided it might be wise not to return to the same café. “We didn’t dare go back,” Declercq admitted. The second edition was hosted at Van Lerberghe’s house, coinciding with his birthday.

And, true to cycling culture, it was no longer just about eating. It was about winning. “The first time I wasn’t that good,” Declercq said. “But the year after, I made the podium with fifteen. With us, everything has to be competitive.”

That line perhaps explains more than the pancake count itself. Campenaerts’ 17 – or possibly 19 – was not merely hunger. It was the same mentality that drives riders to chase marginal gains, repeat intervals deep into fatigue, or attack when logic suggests restraint.

For Declercq and his friends, the “World Championship” may have been tongue-in-cheek. But the instinct underneath it was not.

Campenaerts has long been known as one of the peloton’s most obsessive trainers, a rider willing to experiment, endure and stretch limits in pursuit of performance. In Torhout, that instinct simply found a different outlet.

The café owner might not have anticipated it. But anyone who has watched Campenaerts race probably should have.