Sometimes you're the joker, sometimes you're the joked.
As Tyler Farrar rode by in the other direction, we gave each other a subtle wave; not the wave between friends, but between brothers of the road. On another day, I might have turned around and chased him down, like the first time I’d seen him riding locally. Not so much to bother him or to ride with him, but just to say I’d chased down Tyler Farrar. Not everyone can say that, you know.
But the legs had been missing for days. Weeks, even. It had already been a dark several weeks and there was no end in sight. It wasn’t the weather that was dark, but the form. They can be such cruel things, The Legs. The Legs tend to tell us within a revolution whether we’ll have a good day or not, and every ride I’d been on lately, they spoke only of toilets. On the rare occasion that I would join the Hedrick group rides, I was relegated to riding the wheels or wallowing at the back. On one occasion, I was even the rider who rolled up after the climb as the others waited. I wait at the top of the climb, not the other way around.
It is a cycle that feeds into itself; I was training a little less than usual, but not significantly. Certainly not enough to justify the lack of form. But the bad form was not motivating me to work any harder than I was and it made it very easy to find excuses not to ride. Not training harder means the form slips a bit more every week and before very long, you’re the guy the other riders are waiting for.
Then four days away to visit my parents; we worked long days on the farm but it was only the last two days that we carved out time to ride and even then it was just an hour of the three of us enjoying the moment and being grateful for the time together on two wheels. When I came home, work was waiting and so was my personal life which was all too tempting to indulge in, which I did.
Then the itch came. It started with small things, like noticing that my legs didn’t feel as supple when I walked to work in the morning. Or that my bounds up the stairs didn’t feel as fluid as they normally did. And then I started to miss it. Seven days I counted, seven days off the bike. For the first time since November, by my loose guesstimation.
But it wasn’t just my legs that felt different; my whole body was suffering and so was my mind. It was Monday when I realized I actually wanted to ride again. But it was impossible; too many balls in the air. Tuesday: the same. Today, I was determined to get out, but I was apprehensive of how it would feel to be back on the bike knowing how it feels to ride when you’ve missed a block.
I’ve rarely felt so good on a bike as I did today. I don’t know whether it was the enthusiasm of feeling that sensation of flight as you hover a meter or so above the ground or the rest my body had probably been begging me to give it, but I couldn’t keep myself from pushing harder on the pedals. In anticipation of a first ride back, I chose an easy route. But then I found myself pushing the pace and pointing my front wheel up the various little “bonus” climbs that lay dotted along the route of almost any ride in Seattle.
I can’t wait to climb back on my bike tomorrow. Can’t. Wait.
Be patient, listen to the signals your body is sending. Learn to distinguish between “good” not wanting to ride and “bad” not wanting to ride. And cherish that feeling of childish enthusiasm that awaits when you climb once again upon the bicycle and feel the freedom that pushing on the pedals gives us.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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you should take a week off more often, or at least until the dull ache of continuous training leaves the guns completely, did you a world of good, once every three months at least, knowing how to rest is vital, I think being active in anything other than cycling is ideal.
Still waiting for "my little scandium friend" to arrive here in Germany. I've been off the bike for THREE WEEKS now. I feel like I have gained three kilos and lost about half of my aerobic ability. And then throw in the stress of moving and it is a perfect fucking mental and physical storm. Brother, I got a signal coming from my body right now and the only cure is more bike bell.
Seven days? Luxury...
"And cherish that feeling of childish enthusiasm that awaits when you climb once again upon the bicycle and feel the freedom that pushing on the pedals gives us."
Fuck yes. I've been waiting for the whole 2 years (nearly) that I've been a pedalwan for this feeling to subside, but it never does. I do a lot of riding as extensions to my morning commute, so hearing the alarm go off at 6:10= pain.
Struggling out of bed and into my bibs without waking Mrs Sandy or Little Sandy = pain.
Slinging a too-heavy rucksack on my back to take my laptop and change of clothes to work = pain.
Swinging my leg over the top tube and taking those first few pedal strokes away from the house and out on my early morning journey= pure unalloyed joy. I hope it never fades.
this season it took me what seemed like an eternity to even have a modicum of form. so i signed up for my first race, a 40 minute criterium. which i didn't ride because i bent my rear rim on the roll up to the start line (mis-judged buddy hop, crash into curb). moral was gone. so i put the bike in the workshop and didn't touch it for 6 days. on day 6 i took apart the headset cleaned and lubed it. removed the seatpost and saddle cleaned and lubed them. reassembled everything, retuned the gears. next morning i was back on the bike and have been feeling extra motivated for weeks now. one full week off in the middle of summer can feel like a waste, but with the renewed sense of motivation and excitement, it was well worth it
I am in the midst of this very feeling right now.
I didn't ride yesterday. I normally ride more of less every day - I'm a bike commuter, it's what I do.
To be honest I can't blame the weather - although it was raining & had been for quite a few days - not light drizzle, but greasy apocalyptic hose sessions of mighty downpour that make you wish your #9 bike was a kayak. That sort of weather and the thought of yet another commute into work on my beloved, but let's face it, crap by comparison rigid MTB just made me want to go catch the train instead. So I did.
Today? Wonderful sunshine and perfect conditions for giving the good old #1 a shake down. I honestly felt as if I had an extra 200W in my legs. I am sitting here now at my desk literally vibrating with excitement at the anticipation of swinging a leg over #1 again and blasting back home. The long way.
Great article.
"...cherish that feeling of childish enthusiasm that awaits when you climb once again upon the bicycle and feel the freedom that pushing on the pedals gives us"
A-Merckx, brother Frank, a-Merckx
Welcome to my world, mofo.
@Buck Rogers
Seriously. Climbing back on after 3 weeks off is going to be hilarious here too.
Even though I do not feel it, I am not the young man I once was (45 now). 20 years ago my body did not tell me to take a few days off the bike, recovery was not much of an issue, nor was nutrition. This season I have a new coach and he is a real prick (in the best way possible). My FTP training began in December and then I suffered an injury (lower back issues from years of wrestling). I was off serious training for three weeks, so when I returned, I had time to make up. It was not so bad and I was able to peak for my first race on April 17th. I then stated a new block of training and the intensity ramped up. Racing here and there. I did not train this much even when I was younger. My fitness and power were improving each week until the first week of July. I remember the exact day the wheels came off - July 3rd. The previous day we raced 202km (126 miles). I felt strong at the end but when I woke the next morning, my legs were jello and I did not even want to look at my bike or move from the sofa. How could this happen? I was beyond overreaching, I was overtrained. When your mental state to ride disappears, that is a bad sign.
Luckily, I had a two week vacation planned to start on July 6th. By the end of the first week of vacation I was feeling better. When I returned home, I was stoked to ride. The legs were still angry, my power was better than before but my endurance was down. Spoke with my coach and nutritionist. Had a blood test and found low iron. Reworked my nutrition plan and training plan. More rest between training days, two on one off. And much shorter rides (max of 112km). At 45 years old, there is definitely an Ebb and Flow to training. I got sucked into a riptide this season.
With a three month old, time for long rides isn't there right now. Thankfully, I still commute to work daily. 1.5 hours a day, five days a week isn't ideal, but it's something. And, I know I'm lucky being able to ride to work.
Sparty - I hear ya. I've played sports my entire life and have had plenty of aches, pains, and injuries. But I was mostly able to just play through them. Lately I can tell my body, and the injuries, are starting to require more attention.