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.

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Lukas says:

May 14 2014 at 4:19 pm

Getting dropped, or as I like to put it, getting shit out the back. Funny thing happened during the Monday evening races we have here in Portlandia. I started out with my usual group (old slow a.k.a Masters 4/5) when about halfway though I decided that the two riders who had just jumped looked like they would make it stick so I tried to bridge up to them for about half a lap. When I realized that I didn't have the strength to get all the way across, I eased up recovered a bit and waited for the bunch. Well, as the next group came through, I accelerated and got back in with the peleton. It took several laps for me to realize I was now riding with the Cat 1/2/3 group. I kept thinking that we were going way faster than before, and where were the guys I knew?. Anyway I managed to stay out of trouble and keep up with the back of the pack until they raised the speed even more for the final lap and sprint. Then I was spit out the back quickly. I did get an education on what the effort feels like to maintain 45k even in the shelter of the peleton. I will try to remember and train more to be able to sustain that level of effort in the future. Getting dropped sometimes provides the motivation for new goals.
The Grande Fondue says:

May 14 2014 at 4:53 pm

@Rob

and even moved 30kms away from work to increase my commute.

Chapeau! That's very Rule #4.
unversio says:

May 14 2014 at 5:11 pm

@Rob

I enjoyed the satisfaction of finally not getting dropped and sharing drinks with some strangers who still know me in a way that many friends do not.

That is a great example of patience and transformation... Chapeau!
frank says:

May 14 2014 at 6:35 pm

@Marcus

@frank they seemed to miss the bit where the guy in second - someone who is a long way from being a pure climber - pulled back half of Wiggins' GC lead

Based on my cured case of dirty schlecky love, I can tell you it is quite easy to overlook such things.
frank says:

May 14 2014 at 6:41 pm

@Beers

@Ccos

@frank

"This is the problem with the peloton these days; no panache. Just racing from 5km out and calling it a day."

Yes yes true, but the other end of the spectrum: the endless, useless attacks (which never stick and are just able to hang off the front a bit) can be just as annoying. (Written by the guy who's role it is to chase those down).

Race radio has a lot to answer for. There'd be nothing like the confusion of the peleton when all the leadouts and domestiques look around for the leaders after a big accident. You could get some attacks to stick when no one in the bunch knows what the fuck is going on. And the riders have to use their own brains, rather than a DS telling them what to do with the benefit of tv coverage from the car and sources of info all the way along the course..

SING. IT. BROTHER.

@Ccos

@Beers I'm speaking from a purely amateur perspective where often no one knows what the fuck is going on anyway. But yes, the inability to read a race or a fellow racer can extend up to the big boys and girls.

Race radios do make racers mentally lazy, that's for damn sure

Yeah but amateur racing is also simple: always chase the break. Not so much in pro racing.
frank says:

May 14 2014 at 6:48 pm

@Rob

Great article Frank. This is my 3rd season trying to ride in Belgium. The 1st year was a steep learning curve (1st time riding with any group, let alone pavÃ©, foreign language, etc) and while my avg climbed from 24kmh to 28-29 so too did the frequency with which I was dropped. I started to feel that it was inevitable on each ride, a part of my reputation as the foreigner in the group. I was the guy who showed up with the crazy guy (my best man and Cycling Sensei), the crazy guy who attacks at every effort and splits the group and causes curses in dutch all around me, and I was the poor American who got shelled out the back after 60kms and either took the broom wagon, or later learned to accept defeat and simply enjoy the solo ride back home.

The second year I showed up for one and only one ride. I quickly learned that the B group had joined the C's due to a lack of numbers, and this mean a ride which should be an average of 27-28kmh was now 30-31kmh. Now to some I'm sure that doesn't mean much to some people. How much of a difference can 2kmh make right? But the amount of cursing I heard that day, the split group, the eye popping sprint off of every red light to 'pull the average up'.........and yes the inevitable pop after too many flats at 40kmh, too many hills climbed out of the saddle, too many technical sections creating that gap because your handling just isn't up to par as the rest of the group. After that one ride I vowed not to return until I couldn't get dropped again.

This last year I've done the most mileage ever, rode through my first Belgian winter, climbed my first mountain, let alone it being the Stelvio, started a season the earliest ever with Omloop het Nieuwsblad, rode Brussels > Roubaix, did my first lap in a velodrome ever let alone the one in Roubaix, and even moved 30kms away from work to increase my commute.

2 weeks ago I returned to the club ride, anxious and nervous, but greeted by quiet hello's and recognition. My name was still on the roll call. I rode well, even spent some cautious time up front sharing the work before being conservative and dropping back. I even had enough left in the end to lead out the sprint, although I timed it horrible and got dropped like a sack of potatoes on a tricky paved uphill. I enjoyed the satisfaction of finally not getting dropped and sharing drinks with some strangers who still know me in a way that many friends do not. I returned home to get a call from my friend. Apparently my progress had been noticed and received a number of compliments after I left. The satisfaction was immense.

It's hard to articulate my feelings about being dropped. I detest it. It's a sign of weakness, inferiority, or at times just stupidity. Other times I reassure myself it is a symptom of riding with stronger riders, that act so often encouraged as the quickest path to improvement. I guess, if nothing else, you can not appreciate the act of finally staying with the group, unless you have already been spit out the back repeatedly. I am also sure if I manage to stay with the group for too many rides, at some point I will be that crazy guy impatient and attacking off the front. I'll start to miss being dropped as the surest measure of my efforts.

Thanks again for the article, it struck a chord.

So awesome! This puts down exactly why cycling is so awesome! You out in the work and a faster rider comes out the other end. Simple as that. I'm in the work stage right now!

thanks for the story and if you really miss getting dropped, there is always a faster group.
Mikael Liddy says:

May 14 2014 at 7:00 pm

Absolutely certain that this will be one of the articles I use to show people what this site's about, fantastic piece Frank.

It's funny though, I'm only now experiencing some of those feelings after nearly 4 years riding with the same guys each weekend. The main reason is that our riding is all about the hills & my starting point (~90kgs on a 182cm frame) was so far behind their abilities as 160cm, 65kg natural climbers that had been riding for quite a few years that I had no hope of even starting to hold on. Now in the high 70's & with 4 years of solid climbing in the guns I get the feeling that I might.just.stay.with.them.today...then snap, there goes the elastic.

Ah well, there's always next weekend.
frank says:

May 14 2014 at 7:08 pm

@Mikael Liddy

Absolutely certain that this will be one of the articles I use to show people what this site's about, fantastic piece Frank.

It's funny though, I'm only now experiencing some of those feelings after nearly 4 years riding with the same guys each weekend. The main reason is that our riding is all about the hills & my starting point (~90kgs on a 182cm frame) was so far behind their abilities as 160cm, 65kg natural climbers that had been riding for quite a few years that I had no hope of even starting to hold on. Now in the high 70"²s & with 4 years of solid climbing in the guns I get the feeling that I might.just.stay.with.them.today...then snap, there goes the elastic.

Ah well, there's always next weekend.

I've decided that climbing is less about your strength to weight ratio than it is about your strength to V ratio. Also, always start a climb fast, and finish it fast. As for the middle, ride that fast too! (To paraphrase the prophet)
Steampunk says:

May 14 2014 at 7:33 pm

@frank

@Mikael Liddy

Absolutely certain that this will be one of the articles I use to show people what this site's about, fantastic piece Frank.

It's funny though, I'm only now experiencing some of those feelings after nearly 4 years riding with the same guys each weekend. The main reason is that our riding is all about the hills & my starting point (~90kgs on a 182cm frame) was so far behind their abilities as 160cm, 65kg natural climbers that had been riding for quite a few years that I had no hope of even starting to hold on. Now in the high 70"²s & with 4 years of solid climbing in the guns I get the feeling that I might.just.stay.with.them.today...then snap, there goes the elastic.

Ah well, there's always next weekend.

I've decided that climbing is less about your strength to weight ratio than it is about your strength to V ratio. Also, always start a climb fast, and finish it fast. As for the middle, ride that fast too! (To paraphrase The Prophet)

Don't go down that road, Frank. I rode with a young buck last summer, who insisted that climbing was all about will. Bullshit: it's all about physics. And a little biology. And throw in some chemistry. Will can keep you turning the pedals beyond your sell-by date, but it won't speed you up the cols. The best thing your will can do for you is to shut off your mind: cogito ergo sunk.
Puffy says:

May 14 2014 at 8:12 pm

@The Grande Fondue

I was on the wheel of a big guy and was going ok. I knew I wasn't the only one struggling when I saw a girl we ride with dropped - she is *strong* (rode the Cape Epic) and I've never seen her lose a wheel before. She was dropped when the guy in front of her was gapped, and once that gap was there no one was closing it.

That one shits me no end. When the rider in front sits up without a thought of the wheels behind. Come-on, give me a wave around before you open up a 2 meter gap, then smile and wave me on. Now I have to close that gap AND the one you were occupying, looser!!