Solitude
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.
My buddy refers to these as “character building rides”… once the spring racing season is upon us, just the knowledge that we’ve done these long winter training rides makes us faster…
… as typical in the PNW, I was hoping for rain today, something to make my training ride more challenging, and in a way, more meaningful.
I actually long for the alone rides. With being a “team leader” for us, I’m out on the team rides every weekend. 12-16 of us. I was fortunate enough Saturday that I had time constraints that didn’t allow me to go on the team ride, but I did get out for a couple hours alone. Only saw one other person riding. That’s the best part of Rule #9 training. Solitude. Alone with your own thoughts and misery. Because in my case, misery doesn’t love company.
“Every long journey starts with a first step”
eloquently and perfectly put as usual. for me, starting is sometimes more difficult than that final climb when my legs are already spent.
@scaler911
Should have gone up through the west hills and council crest. It was Fred heaven. People had all their crazy winter layers and rain gear on even though rain wasn’t in the forecast and it was around 7-8 C. I was warm enough climbing up there that I had my arm warmers pulled down around my wrists. I know people all have unique physiology, but I can’t imaging dressing like it’s sub-0 and holding in all that excess heat.
@mcsqueak
It was sunny but cool here over the weekend; downright cold in shady canyons. All the Freds here erred in the opposite direction, and were out in summer jerseys and shorts with no knee or arm warmers.
@scaler911
But yet you love causing your company misery. Curious. Speaking from experience here, as much of it as i can remember anyhow.
@Nate
I’m of the group that follows the “start cold, you’ll warm up” mantra, especially if I know I’ll be climbing for extended periods of time, so I think I understand that perspective better, especially if you’ll only be in the canyons for a little while.
Maybe it’s a personal problem. I just hate how lots of layers feel, I feel bogged down. I hate tights. I’d rather have cold shins then wear the pair of tights I have. And I hate being too hot more than anything.
@gaswepass
I’m an enigma, wrapped in a blanket, covered in secret sauce.
@mcsqueak
That’s exactly why I didn’t go up there. No one was riding out east.
@mcsqueak
The heaviest thing I wear on the legs are some light thermal knickers. More likely knee warmers. On top, merino base layer, regular jersey, arm warmers, gilet unless it’s quite cold or early. The merino base layer is the key — it works great in a wide range of temps.
Great sentiment. I love long solo rides more than anything, and the cold grey of winter somehow makes them more quiet, more alone.
Great one, Frank! “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.” Hey, where were you a few years ago? I completely stagnated on my dissertation work once I finished all my courses and comprehensive exams. I saw it as some huge monolith and I had no idea how to begin chipping away. Now that I’ve broken it up I’m making progress. Where were you two years ago?! Actually, I didn’t totally stagnate but rode like mad to at least feel like I was doing something. Great for the Guns, not great for getting Done.
I went out for my first long road ride in weeks on Saturday. It was great. My form was horrible. Not enough riding, bum knee, bum ankle. I hit the wall in the final 15k and while I was pretty pissed at letting my form slip so much, it has slipped because I’ve been finally working diligently. And I have at least two injuries. And then I told myself to relax and just enjoy being in the saddle and remember that pain and suffering means I’m snapping back into form.
On another note, I just remembered that Friday night I had a long, detailed dream about…the Velominati. I was attending a group meeting and we were all waiting for the Big Dutch Monkey to arrive. I was trying to piece together people in the room from their usernames and various photos posted in different threads. It was very vivid, one of those that I recalled a few hours after rising and it seemed like I was recalling a meeting that had actually happened, not simply a dream. Bonkers. Now I’m dreaming about you folks!
This I know to be true for I have felt the sting of regret for not beginning.
On the topic of clothing – I was in V-jersey and bibs on Saturday, around 25*C. I saw people in gilets, winter gloves, knee warmers, jackets and even tights. Southerners need to be forced to spend a few winters somewhere cold or be forced to give me their 53 cm road bikes.
Merino base layer on the holiday self-gift list but in the mean time I have some Craft LS long zipper, high neck base layers. Really nice and paired with a LS jersey good down to freezing. My feet and hands are really what suffer in the cold, but that just comes with the season, no special circulation issues. I have tights but think I’ll sacrifice them this year as a) they suck. b) I don’t need them in this climate c) bought a house so looks like I’ll be here for a bit. Bibs with De Feet Kneekers are a solid pairing for cool & cold weather for me.
“The whole is greater than the sum of the parts”
Bravo Frank, I have often said getting out the door is the hardest part. This gestalt style view of yours can be applied to things in life other than riding the bike.
@Ron
Hold on, 25 Celsius ? Twenty Five Degrees Above Freezing ? Jockinese can only dream of such warmth.
As a father of three, the long rides of solitude are eagerly anticipated no matter how difficult the ride! To chime in on the layers issue, big fan of using knickers (or bibs) and embro rather than tights – takes the edge off till I get warm.
Thanks for this, Frank. I’m in the middle of one of those long-term, dauntingly huge projects right now (explaining my relative absence from the site lately). This really resonates. Chapeau.
strath – yes, Saturday, Sunday and today have all been around 25*C & sunny. It’s crazy since I’m used to much colder weather in November. I guess I’d complain, but well, I can’t.
I’ve also been doing more solo riding for a variety of reasons. The large groups I used to ride with on Thursdays and Saturdays are too full of odd balls and people who just don’t ride for the reasons I ride. Number crunchers, fitness freaks, etc. No fun, so long! Saturday rides I’ve found are either too slow or have too many racer nuts. See ya!
And the dudes I used to do smaller group rides with, well, after awhile of wondering why many of them acted so strangely I’ve come to realize…they’re strange! Now, as a confirmed weirdo I’m all for unusual folks, but there is just something off and it makes rides very little fun. I spend more time analyzing why some dude doesn’t say a single word to me in three hours than I do enjoying the ride. See ya!
In the beginning I liked testing myself, learning to ride in a line, et cetera. Now that I’m a smooth operator, well, I’d prefer to leave the data dorks and strange dudes alone and maximize Awesomeness when I’m riding.
Oh, and my recent move has put me in a location where the best way to get to the country roads is riding a cinder path. Ha, so every road ride can begin with a Strada Bianchi secteur. It’s a fine way to start & finish a road ride!
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.
As an occasional photographer, it’s difficult for me to look at a picture of someone and think of solitude.
Who took the picture? Right?!
Nice piece. Another feature of this solitude is””as you mention””the season. The long ride at the onset of winter is not for training. It is not for the guns. It is for the soul…
@Steampunk +1!
Breathing in that cold Fall air, all on your lonesome is pure joy – and straight unadultered Hardman!
@G’rilla
I’d like to think frank takes a camera and tripod with him, sets it up, triggers a delayed-shutter, rides up the road, gets the photo, then goes BACK and collects the camera and tripod. Makes sense…
@mcsqueak and then stuffs it all into his jersey pockets so as not to encumber the lines of the bike with eye distracting protruberances. Obviously this is the way it is. Or perhaps a passing journo takes the picture to capture the awesomeness of an unknown cyclist wearing the V-kit…
Having been in the presence of V-kit this morning (not mine) I can only say it induces a quiet feeling of awe – much like the Sistine Chapel
@mcsqueak & @Giles: Lezyne makes a beautiful tripod. Light, compact, and aesthetical-like.
@scaler911
Oh mister big shot, eh? “Oh, look at me, I have so many friends, training partners, and groupies, I just love having a few minutes to myself. For my wrist exercises.”
Its really just that old chestnut from Fignon that sometimes, you just have to go out and make an appointment with the Man with the Hammer. Those appointments are best taken alone.
@Ron
Even those with many a cold winter behind us acclimate eventually. While there is a certain nostalgia in the feel of the first crisp morning, which thankfully happens here in December most years, the dry, windy cold is more difficult to stave off when the previous nine months have been filled with days at 35*C.
I have to say that I’m no stranger to dressing in a way that sometimes makes my brethren from the great white sometimes frozen or occasionally slushy North guffaw. But having lived in and loved many climates, one lesson stays with me: once (frost)bitten, twice shy.
@mcsqueak
Yes yes yes. Dress to be cold for the first 15 minutes, though you need to make sure you also don’t under-dress, especially for joints that will be carrying load, like your knees. I’ll err on the side of caution when it comes to those puppies.
@Ron
Rule #21, baby.
@Nate
Wool is amazing; I have three different DeFeet base layers – one with short sleeves, the rest are tanks. The right base layer can eliminate an outer layer, while no base or the wrong one can keep you chilly even when you over-layer on top.
Wool is just an incredible material for that function. And for knee and arm warmers.
@strathlubnaig
They issue a heat advisory in Seattle when we start getting close to 298K. It seems insane to that anyone would wear anything other than a jersey and bibs.
@freddy
With the right training partner, for sure. Also, when you’re deep in the cave, you can find solitude even in a group – like several of us experienced on the Seattle Summer Cogal.
That said, though, there is something about truly being solo that sets those rides apart. Sharing the wind, trading places, those are all impossibilities when solo. The work needs to be done just by you and no one else.
@G’rilla
Just like the stories of pirate ships who left no survivors. I wonder where the stories came from then?
@mcsqueak
Have you studied the theory of relativity at all? Its really much easier than that; I just accelerate to race pace, take a picture, and by the time the shutter snaps, I’m up the road and I’ve taken a photo of myself.
Don’t tell me you can’t do that?
Solitude: 1969 Ronde van Vlaanderen. Kickin’ ‘er in from, what, 80 k from the finish? That’s one way to do it.
I know a race can’t ever be considered a place of solitude, but I think there is good reason why we hold the solo escapes, especially in bad weather, in such high esteem. The courage to take off, the will to continue. Amazing.
And, because its maybe the most meaningful photo of a rider alone (even though its in a race).
@frank when is a solo win done with company? When you have a chimera!
@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.
@frank
Turning all your mass in to energy explains why you find it relatively easy to stay warm…
More of a Rule #9 type comment, but the talk of layers and being cold and such reminds me of my early winter climbing days when hard core enthusiasts would sit for an hour with their hands in the freezer section of the refrigerator to HTFU for the coming season.
On photos when in Solitude – can’t beat a carefully chosen fence post really.
Great to see the emotions put in to words on a screen Frank. Personally I ride solo 80% of the time then periodically go for a club ride. Almost gives the opposite perspective, I love riding alone, I find it really tough mentally but with no-one to whinge moan or bump my gums at I am left with no option but to Rule #5 it and move on.
I find that the only person I really want to compete with is me. When I go on the club rides I pick the old boys leisure ride and enjoy the chat the company and encouraging those that are new to the club.
Nothing beats riding solo though….
Ahh, the solo ride. Perhaps my biggest nemesis. Also usually the time my bike chooses to break The Principle of Silence. Of course once that’s happened I might as well be holding some kind of external noise-cancelling stethoscope to the source of this fresh click, creak or squeak as you can be damn sure it’s the one and only thing I’ll hear all ride…
@frank
Usually aim to be warm after 45 min and from there nothing is removed. If I expect that I will remove something later, then I remove it before the start.
And no matter how doped he was, you have to respect, as LeMan first would call him, Mr. Cappuccino, or how BRR more accurately described him, “MIX ONE PART GRINTA WITH ONE PART PANACHE; ADD TWO PARTS HOWL-AT-THE-MOON, ATTACK-YOUR-OWN-SHADOW CRAZINESS AND THIS IS WHAT YOU GET”, Claudio and his Stage 13 of the 1992 TDF solo breakaway. Must be one of the greatest solo feats in Grand Tour history, definitely within the last 40 years. (Photo from BRR)
@frank
Lord that is a haunting expression. He has reached the deepest section of the pain cave and mining even deeper.
Beautiful post this is why I keep coming back time and again.
Beautifully written piece, Frank. J’applause.
@Buck Rogers
you can just tell from the body language that he’s using his whole body, not just relying on the guns.
I’ve no whether their or not Walter Godefroot is riding solo here. But the look is that of a man riding without external references such as riders to chase or elude or kilometres left to ride, just a need to ride until the job is done.