Categories: Defining MomentsLa Vie VelominatusRiding UglyThe Rides

Getting Dropped

Phil Anderson tries in vain to hold Le Blaireau’s wheel.

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.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

Next On Rule #59: Hold Your Line »

Previous « The Swanny

View Comments

VeloSix says:

May 13 2014 at 1:33 pm

@Frank

Did you somehow implant a kind of brainwave recording device into my skull? Because I just relived every last painful moment of the climb in this past Saturday's race.

Even the part about the false flat, and my dumbass thinking I could chase back, on the flats.....
fignons barber says:

May 13 2014 at 2:56 pm

@Frank unleashing his inner Krabbe. Good stuff.

The irony of racing is that to attack, you must ignore the fear of being dropped, even though the physical and emotional pain of said droppage is deserving of respect.

So many racers don't make the race because they ride to not get dropped rather than attack to win.
frank says:

May 13 2014 at 2:58 pm

@Chris

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)

Oh, but he did. To be fair, when he got dropped, he made it count and lost the Yellow Jersey for the first and only time in his career.
frank says:

May 13 2014 at 3:01 pm

This was based loosely on the Book Signing ride on Saturday in SFO; my base is really lacking but power is good, so I was doing fine for the first half of the ride and then the tempo on the climbs along the coast was too much and I knew from the start I was fucked.

At a point, you get so worn down you're not even in that much pain - in fact, I'd be in much more pain if I was the one doing the dropping and using that as motivation to spur me on - but at a point the body just stopped delivering the power to the pedals. There was nothing.
frank says:

May 13 2014 at 3:03 pm

@Chris

I surprised myself today a couple of times by, subconsciously, shifting to a smaller cog and pushing harder as I began to lose momentum on hills. Normally, I'd have done the opposite to hold my cadence.

That's the best; being on the rivet but then somehow finding more power. There is a very strange physiological thing for me as well where I have to burn the legs once early on to get the power up; after that I'm much more open and can resist better. Before that, I struggle much more.
frank says:

May 13 2014 at 3:06 pm

@Duane

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.

Absolutely will do, just as soon as I drop someone on a climb. I actually do drop people on flats and faux plats but climbing I have to carefully find someone as fat or fatter than me in order to get the operation together.

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.

Or maybe the sport is our therapy?
frank says:

May 13 2014 at 3:12 pm

@girl

I'm riding with the boys for the next few weeks. The entire time the mantra that goes through my head is 'hold that wheel, hold that wheel, hold that wheel.'

You have perfectly captured the process the brain goes through as you begin to doubt that you can stay on. I have the luck of having my coach graciously sitting on my wheel for the next few weeks. He knows me so well he can pick the moments I'm beginning to doubt myself and squashes the doubt in a few simple words.

If you coach can do that rather than make you want to turn around and punch him, then he is a coach you should hold on to.
Ccos says:

May 13 2014 at 3:15 pm

@andrew

@Buck Rogers Got my first (bike) races coming up in late summer/early autumn. My steel and I are going to get looked down upon and dropped by younger, stronger carbon-riding dudes and it's going to hurt. But it's going to be fun.

Vraiment, premiÃ¨re course? Dropped? Not happening if you follow the rules and go with Eddie. Just pin your number properly, keep your yap shut and remain smooth and deliberate. Wish you all the best.
frank says:

May 13 2014 at 3:16 pm

@ChrisO

Nice - I like the description of the metre which might as well be a mile (to mix my units in the interests of alliteration). So true. It's only a small gap but you know that even if you temporarily get there it will be back soon.

But when I go through these emotions it isn't usually on a climb. I don't worry so much about it on the hills because it's a question of power to weight, not power to will.

Where I hate this sort of getting dropped is on rollers or flats, especially when there are echelons. The gap happens in front, maybe not even your wheel but the effect is the same. They can move away slowly and maybe even stay in sight for a long time but you know it is impossible to get across and eventually you surrender to it.

Don't get me fucking started on getting dropped in a crosswind. The knowledge that the riders in front in the group are getting an easy tow when you're suffering like a dog only to watch the gap widen is such a painful thing.

During Heck of the North last year, I had been dropped from the lead group due to a series of crashes in the first technical offroad section. Unfortunate, but not too big a deal; I set about bridging up and wound up catching a bunch of other dropped riders and we built a nice little group that was humming along nicely.

I really felt ownership of the group as my bridging up along the breadcrumb of riders was what was putting the group together. Then my tub came loose from my toe strapped to my saddle on a rumble strip and I had to stop to unwind it. Again I faced the long road of bridging up and it was just so fucking demoralizing.

And then when I caught them again, I flatted. FEEEEECK.
HMBSteve says:

May 13 2014 at 3:25 pm

@frank

This was based loosely on the Book Signing ride on Saturday in SFO; my base is really lacking but power is good, so I was doing fine for the first half of the ride and then the tempo on the climbs along the coast was too much and I knew from the start I was fucked.

At a point, you get so worn down you're not even in that much pain - in fact, I'd be in much more pain if I was the one doing the dropping and using that as motivation to spur me on - but at a point the body just stopped delivering the power to the pedals. There was nothing.

@Frank - you could have done as I did and head back to the barn early. To overcome my obvious inadequacy and shame, I bit off 114K and 2,000 meters the next day. I was toast after that. But the inspiration from this article and the quote from @fignons barber above "they ride to not get dropped rather than attack to win" brings me back for more. Lean forward, smash the pedals and HTFU - it is indeed a mind game. Good stuff!