The Theory of Special Relativity states that time for a moving object passes more quickly than for a stationary object. Einstein, in deriving this theory, demonstrated great insight and creative power for which he is considered perhaps the greatest mind in human history. If he had owned a set of rollers, however, he’d be considered a common idiot for recognizing what all Cyclists inherently know: that a two-minute interval on a trainer is interminably longer than the same amount of time on the open road. Similarly, an Hour on the track is a different animal altogether when compared to an hour’s training ride.
@scaler911, @G’rilla, and I met @VeloformaMark (founder, owner, chief product designer and engineer for Veloforma) at the Alpenrose Track circa 2:00pm on Saturday, June 15 to celebrate Festum Prophetae in the best way we know how: to ride The Hour. After introductions, Mark disappeared to retrieve the 2013 Velofroma Pista Pro he was loaning me while I slipped into my Hunchback Disguise V-Kit. Mark reappeared with one of the most stunning track mocheene’s I’ve laid eyes on – and I’ve seen at least four.
As we busied about trying to get my position right, Mark explained the engineering tolerances in seatpost extension and described how far we can go beyond the “max extension” mark (don’t try this at home, people, Mark is an expert). Impressive as they are, current engineering principles don’t accomodate for 1cm of air beyond the end of the seat post in order to get enough height. Modern engineering is similarly limiting when it comes to stem extension and saddle setback. The net result of these limitations was a saddle height three centimeters not high enough, a reach four centimeters not reachy enough, and a saddle set back an undisclosed amount not set back enough.
No sweat, I’ll just V it.
I hopped on and embarked on my first two practice laps. While my track experience is limited, I’ve ridden enough tracks around the world to know my way around a banking. Alpenrose is a short, steep, bumpy concrete track. So steep, in fact, that after my first two laps, I got off and had to swallow my heart down out of my throat. For a moment, I considered abandoning the ride on account of nothing more than how terrifying the banking is – even in the lowly Sprinter’s lane. With crashing speed for the corners in the lane sitting at around 25-30 kmph, it was more than enough to discourage an easy warmup lap.
As we fiddled with my gear length, I gradually became more comfortable with the track and before long I stopped soiling my bibs every time I finished a lap. We settled on a 91 inch gear with a symbolic 14T rear cog.
As the gun went off, I settled into 24 second laps, right on schedule. Then it hit me; with the saddle too low, too far forward, and the bars a bit too close, I couldn’t really get any power into the bike to be able to maintain my speed. I struggled with my mind, my body, and my bike for what seemed like a lifetime as I tried to maintain momentum. I didn’t know if I was 5 minutes into the effort, or 15. All I heard was my split for each lap: 24.3 – 24.5 – 25.4 – 23.3 – 25.6…I soon realized that while I was advised by the various track riders in attendance to ride the waterline – the outside of the Sprinters Lane on the straights (the ride line) and cut in to the inside of the Sprinters Lane on the corners (the black line), how well I did this meant I would gain or lose a second per lap.
I contemplated stopping about every 25 seconds for the first quarter hour, not knowing how long I’d been at it. When I heard Mark holler out that I’d passed fifteen minutes, it was immediately obvious that This Could Be Done – no sweat. This was going to be nothing compared to bonking on Haleakala at the halfway point. The next 30 minutes passed as I focussed on my line; the only thing I was aware of was my constantly slowing pace and my inability to do much about it. I wasn’t particularly tired, and wasn’t hurting aside from my aching back on account of the short position. After a few wobbly attempts, I learned how to stand up on a fixed gear in order to get some speed back into the thing. Eventually, I got into a routine of accelerating to tempo on the home stretch, and then riding out the gear as it slowed down on the remainder of the track.
Throughout, my track inexperience showed itself most plainly whenever I’d have a little lapse of concentration or a muscular twitch; the slightest mistake would send me up the banking in a disheartening speed-sapping uphill climb or down toward the Cote d’Azure and a terrifying appointment with the pavement on the apron.
For 55 minutes, this pattern developed and while my body started to show signs of the effort – like my right ass cheek burning from the force of turning left for an hour – it didn’t feel particularly long. Then came the last five minutes.
Out of the saddle to sprint, do what I can not to crash through the first two turns, then sprint on the back stretch. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. A lifetime later, it was four minutes to go.
Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn.
Three minutes.
Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn.
Two minutes.
Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn.
One minute.
Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint. Turn. Sprint.
Ten more seconds.
Sprint some more. I couldn’t hear and had no idea how far I could go in 10 seconds. So I sprinted some more until I couldn’t sprint anymore and assumed I’d gone at least 10 more seconds, keeping in mind the slower clock of the stationary timers in @Scaler911 and @VeloformaMark’s hands.
Of the Hour I spent on the bike, the first 15 minutes were psychologically the hardest, and seemed interminable. When it came to the last V minutes, they seemed as long as the entire 55 minutes that came before it. Eistein should have been a Cyclist.
I thought the Hour would be a one-time affair, that I’d never try it again. I like to be proven wrong at least once a day, otherwise I’m not trying hard enough. @VeloformaMark is going to build me a custom seat post and stem to get my position perfect, and I’ll be back next Festum Prophetae to try again. In the end, I rode 139.25 laps at an unofficial distance of 37,317m. Next year I’ll come out a few days early, get the position dialed in, do a few good training blocks on the track prior, and have official timing equipment so the lads can heckle rather than be bothered with tapping the lap counter on their phones. I might even shoot for 42km or 43km. Just to be proven wrong again.
Special thanks to the community for voting on my time like you did; it’s a nice feeling disappointing a group rather than just myself for a change. Thanks to @VeloformaMark for loaning me a bike for the effort, for hanging out and helping with the timing, and for proactively starting to design gear for next year’s ride. Thanks to @Scaler911 and @G’rilla for supporting and helping in the recovery session afterwards – and thanks to @MrsScaler911 for her hospitality. Finally, thanks to PeepCode for loaning camera equipment, live streaming, and doing the editing of the video.
[dmalbum path=”/velominati.com/content/Photo Galleries/frank@velominati.com/FPH2013/”/]
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I second Nate's thanks of your suffering for our sins, Merckx up on a cross(bike). It was fun to watch and comment in real time, to boot.
Perhaps next year, one could think of a virtual competition, each doing the hour at their local track on June 17, and see who goes the furthest, with data uploaded on line. With a VSP choosing the order of finish. Perhaps there could be two categories, people with leg muscles and those without.
@Nate
Have to agree, i like nothing better than watching others suffer for entertainment, knowing full well that whilst my mind says Im still 21 and could do that easily, the body would tell me that my brain is writing cheques that my body cant cash.
Awesome Frank! might have to give it a go oneday..
This article had me realise, that if the time of the stationery observer is faster relative to the person travelling extremely fast, whenever a space ship jumps to 'hyperspace', it also must travel into the future. I think my brain just exploded.
@frank Yeh, and also, we have to use general relativity here, since you accelerate around the corners (accelerating being defined as a change in velocity, and then a change of direction means a change in velocity (which is a speed and a direction). Therefore, if we discard that oval track business and think of a straight line of the length of the distance travelled in an hour we can think about only special relatity. Now, the rider's internal clock is, according to them, correct, and measures the time being as velocity/track length. But, the stationary persons clock appears to move alot slower, better time, if the rider uses that time, which is not the rider's 'proper time'.
But, it all gets a little messed up when you consider the fact that to both the rider and the stationary person both cannot test whether they are the one moving (even though intuitively we know the rider is moving, but motion is relative, so the rider sees the stationary man coming towards him at the speed he is cycling at). So, to the stationary guy, his clock is correct and the rider's clock moves slowly. So, they both see the other person's clock move slower.
None of this is important though, unless you can ride at about 970 million kph (or 600 million mph).
So, in summary, if we are using the stationary person's clock, then we will be able to ride for alot longer than an hour. But, only an hour will have passed to the stationary guy. But if we were looking at our watch, we would stop after one of our hours and we'd be told to keep riding. You would be riding, and looking at a sea of slow moving people, slow moving time. But people looking at you would think you are moving in slow motion. (moving in slow motion is the same as 'your clock appears slow').
@frank Yes, but moving in relation to what ??? The expanding universe? The earth? the moon ?
@GT
To the timer.
@Luke Bartlett
Exactly. (And welcome) I do wonder, however, if our minds are tuned to the passage of time as a constant and that perhaps this factors in to why it feels longer to ride on a trainer vesus on the road? Or are we just focussed on other things - is it as simple as that?
By the way, your dissertation was impressive enough to make my head hurt. Its late, and I can't be bothered to sort out if you're agreeing or disagreeing with me!
@Luke Bartlett
@frank
Luke has be from Washington or Colorado. I probably thought up stuff like that, years ago, but never bothered to write it down so I'd remember it.
@Luke Bartlett @GT @frank @scaler911
oooh yeah, the theory of ralativity, time travel blah blah. You want to stretch your brain? Try living here and working out when to tune into fucking bike races and US sports.
@scaler911 Yep or maybe as many of us as possible.