I can can feel his cold breath on my back, like a shadow drifting through an alleyway. He’s not yet upon me, but the Man with the Hammer is lurking nearby. I’m not even sure he has the intention to strike; he’s just staying close, cruelly reminding me that my fate is in his hands.
I feel the heaviness in my legs from the first turns of the pedals as the road tilts upwards; its not the usual resistance that I know will spin out once I find my rhythm because finding my rhythm will be impossible when the pace is as it is. I’m not on the rivet yet, but the pressure foretells my future; no graceful arcs of the pedals, I’ll soon be pedaling squares in search of the power I need to hold the wheel in front of me.
The pitch changes, not steeper but the change disrupts whatever grasp I had on the rhythm and the gap opens a bit. Handlebars are chewed and the gap is closed again, for now. I know it, and the shadow knows it: this is a temporary fix, not a long term solution. The end is coming, but I’m determined to hold it off for as long as possible. The next symptom is that I can’t find a gear that works, I’m shifting constantly, back and forth between the same two gears trying to find the magic ratio that lets me hold the tempo more easily.
All the shifting of gears has broken my concentration and I as I look up I discover I’ve let the wheel go without even noticing it. The shadow reminds me that I hadn’t even cracked yet but I let it go just because I let my tired mind occupy itself with a detail like what gear I’m in when what really matters is pushing on the pedals. The price I pay is more handlebar chewing and clawing back onto the wheel. The effort means the end is just drawn that much closer, but still I will do anything to delay the inevitable.
I’m starting to wonder if I’ve dug too deep already, that if after the inevitable happens will I be able to limit my losses? Maybe the smart thing to do – I try to convince myself – is to let go and find a steady tempo to ride to the top. If I do that, I can probably bridge up on the false flat at the top, or on the descent. Failing that, I’ll catch them back on the flats.
But there is no catching back after letting go; it is the reality of our world. These are just the things we tell ourselves in order to face the harsh reality of getting dropped. The only thing that truly exists is the fact that I will be dropped, and that there will be a long, lonely road home.
The wheel in front moves a few centimeters ahead. I see it and push harder on the pedals but still the gap opens. It is only a meter now, but it might as well be a kilometer; the wheel is gone and I am alone.
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That was exquisite and I think my heart rate went up 10 beats reading it. If the inspiration comes, write another from the lead perspective. On days when I'm in command of the hammer it is great. Hearing the increased staccato of breath from behind, the furious gear changes and hopeless changes between sitting and standing is all part of the twisted joy of cycling. In this moment you lift it just a bit more, not because you necessarily want to go fast (but that is virtue too) but because you know the bloke behind can't take even a fraction more punishment without cracking.
We should all be in therapy to explain why we love this sport.
@andrew
AWESOME!!! Fuck'in Chapeau to you! There is NOTHING like riding in a real race. No sportif, no group/club ride, no Grandfondo can match the experience. Lining up in a REAL race is fuck'in intimidating as HELL the first time and I still get (got--it's been three years) butterflies when I race. I do not get those in the group ride/fondo/sportif. It's the difference between playing war and going to war.
Do your best, hold that wheel as long as you can, but, in the end, no matter what happens, you will have been in the actual arena and THAT is what counts!
@andrew
You can drop some "carbon-riding dudes" with a steel "battleship" -- designed for warfare. Enjoy the race!
@Buck Rogers
At times I attempt to ride his wheel -- a cycling shadow. A phantom that only appears as shadow when you are concentrated and looking for him. No invite, but good when he shows up. Impossible to overcome him -- just chase him.
Btw @frank, stunning photo there. Those are fine guns.
Puegeot was a fucking awesome team over the years, so many greats. (Unlike @frank, Eddy didn't get dropped from memory)
@Steve-o
Made me realize another point you just made -- "coexist with the sufferers" as well.
Did an 80 mile ride at the weekend, luckily it was a sportive so I had 5000 different wheels to suck! Met the man with the hammer at least three times, must train properly in future. You know you're having a hard day when someona with flat pedals and a pannier pulls away from you! Even some of the boys on hybrids were fast, good thing about them is that you get more draft!
Ps even did some climbing in the drops, but only because every other position caused instant cramp, anyone else ever had to decide if it was less painful to stop or just keep the hammer down to lessen the duration of the torture. Guess which one I chose, dumb bastard that I am, even sprinted for the line to get a round number.
Getting dropped - this is why I train and race with teammates who's nicknames are the likes of Soul Crusher, Slaughterhouse and War Machine. If I can stay on their wheels a little longer, I know I'm getting stronger, because with each ride they're getting stronger too.
@scaler911
High but worthy praise.
@Steve G
That is such a great feeling.... When you notice that you are hanging longer each ride... Then after enough training properly you have the wheel everyone wants to stay on.