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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  • @Steampunk

    @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.

    Obviously you have a problem with your willpower. You might want to change up for some VVillpower.

  • @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)

    We'll come back to this equation when Cuddles & Nairo start tackling the big 'uns in the next few weeks.

  • @Lukas

    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.

    Doesn't riding with another bunch also earn you disqualification? It does around here at least.

  • @Puffy Indeed it does.

    Since I didn't notice right away and wait for my proper group I was DQ'd.  Once I realized, I figured the experience of hanging in with the faster riders was a good learning experience.  Painful, but educational.

  • @wiscot

    I'm spoiled in Belgium.  I ride with a regular club out of vossem that is normally between 60-80 guys split in 3 groups.  You have your (don't tell them) old guy group who averages 25-26 but mainly want to enjoy their ride.  I come from a triathlon background in florida, so it was great to be able to start with such a large group to learn the ins and outs at a reasonable speed.  A lot easier to learn the basic directions in vlaams, curses, techniques not to wreck the peleton when you aren't constantly on the rivet.  You then have two other groups averaging 27-30 and 30-33kmh depending on the course and who shows up that day.

    It's a particularly large club, and very friendly and organized, but then again it feels like here almost every village has a group of 30-40 cyclist who do at least club rides every weekend.  If the group you are with aren't to your taste (tried a local club who averaged 19kmh for the first 15km!!) the sure answer is just to wait 30 mins and join another group who passes you.  Great for developing your pursuit skills chasing them down at 50kmh.  The belgian motorists will even normally let you get a friendly draft to help you back to the group.

    I am curious as to the difference in riding between here and the states.  90km with 6-700m elevation at 30kmh average.....what cat level does that equates to in the US?  I firmly feel its a much higher level here, but not sure how much of that is just how MANY people ride at a higher level.  I never found such large groups of similar ability and purpose in the US.  But I am also riding post accident, so everything is harder now.

  • Excellent @frank.     Portrayed how most of my rides are ridden.  Sometimes I even drop myself on solo rides.

    Maintaining consistent form is sometimes as difficult as maintaining a wheel at the back of a ever faster bunch ride. 

    Some days your "cock of the roost"  then next and more often than not, you're the feather duster.

    I get shitty at myself for getting dropped.  Must work harder during the week!

  • @Dave R

    Great article and following commentary. Interesting article on the components of metntal toughness and training it found here:

    http://www.scienceofrunning.com/2014/05/the-psychology-of-mental-toughness.html

    I hope the author, or the community here, explores the subject more. And yes, the article is on a a running site, but I make two points in my preemptory defense of posting it.

    1. Cyclists know how to suffer, but they aren't the only ones. Frank will hopefully confirm this from his Nordic ski racing days. And Alpinists may win the GC of the Tour of Suffering, which leads to the second point of my defense.

    2. I was referred to the article by a share from alpinist Steve House. I wasn't visiting a running site!

    We don't have a Suffering monopoly for sure. Can't speak for running or climbing, but skiing had a limit to how much you could suffer - at a point the compression of snow keeps a lid on the suffering. The bike is limited only by how hard we go.

    And wow, the Steve House?

  • @Lukas

    @Puffy Indeed it does.

    Since I didn't notice right away and wait for my proper group I was DQ'd. Once I realized, I figured the experience of hanging in with the faster riders was a good learning experience. Painful, but educational.

    Yes, take the DQ over your shitty official position and learn from better riders. Good work.

  • @Rob

    I am curious as to the difference in riding between here and the states. 90km with 6-700m elevation at 30kmh average.....what cat level does that equates to in the US? I firmly feel its a much higher level here, but not sure how much of that is just how MANY people ride at a higher level. I never found such large groups of similar ability and purpose in the US. But I am also riding post accident, so everything is harder now.

    The conventional knowledge is it is a higher level in Belgium, but those numbers don't sound crazy. We did 100km and 2020 meters in San Francisco last weekend at 25-28 and that was just a book signing ride not a race. I think the big difference in Belgium is the depth and my feeling is the races start fast, get easier, and then go ballistic for the finale. All this said with the authority of someone who has neither lived nor raced in Belgium.

  • @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)

    Yup that says it all. When I beat a whole pack of guys up a climb on my entry level aluminum, it's usually not because I'm lighter but have the motivation to put in that last push to the top. Never say die.

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