The task spreads out before me like molasses poured onto a tabletop, indulging in its viscous immensity. Its growing breadth makes it a kind of enigma, the sort distinguished by an elusive end and therefor an intangible beginning. It occurs to me, at this moment, that the difference between those who achieve and those who stagnate is not measured by their greatness, but by their courage to begin. There is a boldness in embarking on that to which the end is unknown, to trust in your ability to navigate a path along which the way can be felt more than it can be seen.

In life, our path is fractured by the paths of those in our social and professional proximity. In training, we are simply a product of our discipline and will. In a world full of change and flux, training stands out as a beautifully simple thing. Time in the saddle goes in one end, and progress comes out the other. The magnitude of the change we see as a result is directly proportional to our commitment to a goal; there is nowhere to to seek answers to our failures but inside ourselves.

The most sacred act in Cycling is, for me, the day-long solo training ride, especially in Winter. On these days of 200 or more kilometers, I rise with the sun still lingering behind the Cascades to the East. There is a chill in the air even inside the house as I shake off sleep and prepare for a ride book-ended by the twin fires of sunrise and sunset. I wait patiently for the streets to be lit well enough to allow my safe passage; perhaps I’ll have another espresso while I wait for the sun to laze above the horizon.

Setting out, my heart will be heavy with dread knowing the ribbon of kilometers, hills and climbs that lies ahead. In Winter, the effect is heightened by the gray clouds in the sky and the knowledge that rain and possibly snow will accompany me. Before I even begin, my mind casts ahead to the warm shower and hearty meal which will greet me at the end of this long day. Yet, the only way to arrive is by loading the pedals at the outset and getting to the business of turning them endlessly until I return to the house.

My usual long training route consists of chaining together my daily training loops. While familiarity with the route serves to comfort me, the conclusion of each loop carries me by my home – each time I find myself tempted to escape into the warm confines where my family, a shower, and a meal awaits. Yet, with each passing of the house, my resolve is energized, I continue. I continue with only the thoughts in my head, my discipline, and the cold and wet to keep me company. When I finally return home, my spirits fill with a sense of accomplishment.

These rides help me find form, certainly, but they serve a more fundamental purpose that echoes in my personal and professional life. They serve to remind that a large task is an aggregate of smaller, more simple tasks and that we need only the courage to begin. Just as a long ride is accomplished by the simple act of turning the pedals, we achieve our goals in life by starting today to incrementally move towards them.

I am reminded through the solitude of the ride that simply beginning is the most critical element to finishing; fail to do that, and you will never have the opportunity to finish. Vive la Vie Velominatus.

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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  • I had a lovely pair of Castelli S Tre gloves which had no padding but a sort of ribbed palm for grip that also dampened the vibration. They seem to have been discontinued though. If I found a store that had them I would order five pairs to last me for a while.

    The Castelli race gloves which come up over the wrist have very little padding too, but I think wearing those for training is a bit OTT.

  • @mcsqueak & @Buck Rogers The Giro aero gloves have no padding and are actually pretty comfortable.  Best worn tucked under arm warmers if you want to avoid the "trying to look aero" look.  As it's summer here in Oz I might take a pair of scissors to mine to shorten them because they're the closest I've found to riding gloveless which is, as Buck Rogers said, an absolute pleasure.

  • Beautiful post Frank. It often seems the long rides are solo rides. Many think those long rides are too much and finding a like-minded sufferer on the right day is not easy. Usually better to go it alone.

    @freddy

    Yes, the solitude of the long solo ride. Strangely, a different kind of solitude can be experienced with a faithful riding partner. My brother and I are almost equally matched in form. On long rides, we share the wind, silently trading places when it feels right. A day of hard riding-few word are spoken. Solitude.

    yea man, it is great to do some epic rides with a well matched friend, a brother or clone. Just keep fucking taking turns: time on the front, time on a wheel, repeat.

  • @Souleur

    First post here guys - be gentle!

    Solitude for me is quite comfortable though, I like it. Its soul time for me, medicine for my soul healing the ailements of my day dealing with all the crap that I do, the bike is my daily dose of prozac, and when I take it I am happier and sleep soundly. Its another dividend we yeild as cyclists.

    +1 - Agree entirely - my commute home is where I chill out, sort out the crap from the day, and plan what to have for dinner. The longer rides on weekends mean you don't have to wait for slower riders, can dig in without having to worry about dropping them and the Strava upload at the end of the day keeps you honest.

    Erik - for my birthday this year I treated myself to a 120K, 2000m solo - best present ever!

  • @mouse Ah...just put in on my new N1.. I had heard they don't shed dirt all that well but had heard no concerns about longevity.  I will keep and eye on that thanks!

  • for a minimalist-padded goatskin glove, try aerotech designs. it's got a crotched back, & the company is in pennsylvania.  they make most of their stuff right here in the good old u.s. of a.

     

  • @Marcus

    @frank when is a solo win done with company? When you have a chimera!

    HA!

    @cognition

    @frank Respectfully, and not to diminish Le professeur - one of my favorite photos of a solitary rider in the midst of a race has to come from the other French hardman, Le Blaireau, in his 100km breakaway to win the 1980 Liege-Bastogne-Liege.

    As an American teenager who came into cycling rooting for LeMond, it was easy to hate on Hinault. In retrospect... he's one of the Giants of the Road.

    There are so many awesome photos from that race...and those legs of his always give me gunbone!

  • @Souleur@VeloVita

    Nothing against the group ride for sure; those can have such a great dynamic, whether its a Casually Deliberate ride with friends or a lung-busting hammerfest (also possibly with friends), there can be deep enjoyment from them.

    But the solo day-long slog is another animal altogether.

    Speaking of which, one of my major grievances with group rides is the fact that no one seems to be able to keep a lid on the V and just ride as planned and agreed beforehand. Rides are always billed as easy, or no-drop etc, and then sure enough, as soon as the road goes uphill someone will go to the front and put the hammer down. For people who ride in groups enough, we all know this happens and we all adjust our expectations accordingly, and we learn to love it.

    But I think its very discouraging for people how are trying to get into the sport, or who for whatever reason expect the ride to be as agreed. I think as good Cycling Ambassadors, we could do well to get better about sticking to the agreement on a ride. But it takes all of us, and we all need to hold each other accountable to stick with it.

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