The Illusion of Transparency

Mah-mah-mah-mah-mah poker face – mah poker face.

The illusion of transparency is perhaps the most important tool the Velominatus has in their toolbox, apart from having some measure of competence, being Casually Deliberate at all times, Looking Fantastic, and being able to dish out and endure heaping helpings of The V.

Cycling is suffering, and one of the most crucial lessons we have to learn is that we are rarely the only one who hurts. When the pressure is on or the group is heading uphill, every rider in the bunch is dying a thousand silent deaths. The rider on the front, while doing the most work, does enjoy a slight psychological advantage of being responsible for the pain disbursements, but they are suffering perhaps more than anyone else. Because everyone is momentarily cohabiting in the hurt locker, those riders who are best able to give the impression that they are in fact at ease maintain a distinct advantage over the others; there is nothing more demoralizing than feeling like a pig on a spit while the rider next to you is smiling and talking about the amazing view.

It turns out that as a species, we are really bad at judging other people’s emotions by their facial expressions, and generally over-estimate how good we are at it. In other words, everyone has a poker face and everyone sucks at reading them them. This plays into our advantage as Cyclists because it means it’s not all that hard to hide your suffering from other riders or, in fact, make them believe you’re suffering even when you’re not.

The most common tactic in this area is to keep your facial expression neutral and your pedaling smooth and relaxed despite how hard you’re pushing yourself. This takes lots of practice, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes second nature. Another tactic is to look about the bunch casually, take in the scenery, or futz about with your kit; this builds the impression that you are so completely at ease that you are distracted from the heavy work at hand.

My favorite approach is to engage in casual conversation during the hardest parts of a climb. There is a real art to this, because all that talking will get in the way of the most important element of climbing: your breathing. But you can work around that problem by being the one driving the conversation; you can choose your words to make sure they are short so you can continue to breath even as you’re speaking. The best thing to do is to fake an interest in the rider personally and ask them loads of questions. Seduced by the opportunity to talk about themselves, their ego will step in and force them to answer your questions at length, sending them into a spiral of accelerated hypoxic fatigue. It’s all bollocks, of course – you could give two shits about where they went to school or what their view is on the protests in Kiev – but they won’t catch on because they suck at reading your facial expressions while you carefully regulate your breathing and prepare to drop them. At which point you feign surprise that the pace was high enough to cause any damage.

Its gotten to the point where I don’t even realize I’m doing it. The more I’m suffering, the more likely I’ll be to strike up a conversation. And, should my Too Fat To Climb ass be successful in somehow dropping my companions, I’ll gulp in air like a rabid monkey at the top to make sure I’ve fully caught my breath by the time they catch back up so I can make idle conversation about how nice that climb is and how much I love that road and its so amazing that when I moved here I thought that was a tough climb but now I hardly even notice it and I’ll probably install a 42T because the 39T just feels so small.

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.

View Comments

  • @PedallingTom

    Great post. Except for my continual need to focus on Rule #6 and The V when suffering. In truth I try to do this but I'm not sure of my success.

    @gregorio

    A couple of seasons ago I thought I'd ramp up my Casually Deliberate coolness quotient. While passing another rider on a 14% grade I quipped, pain is only temporary. [I know...not even clever, never mind original] I blew up 200 meters further up the road. When he passed me he didn't say a word. The silence was deafening. Since then, I keep my pie hole shut unless I have something to say.

    The key to this art is not fucking it up. You can fake not suffering or mask how hard you're working, but you can't fake confidence and competence.

    If you don't have the guns to pull it off, its best to practice in private until you do rather than make a stab at it and having it backfire.

    @ChrisO

    Ha!

  • @frank

    @PT

    I imagine if you still have it in the big ring and are braking for the hairpins, any further demonstration of capability is considered ostentatious.

    Presumably when you're doing that, you're riding alone with everyone else choking on your dust. So why the fuck would you be talking? Trying to psyche yourself out?

    Sorry, but my dissociative identity disorder isn't quite that developed.

    Breaking into a lusty rendition of 'O Sole Mio' at that point would seal the deal, I think.

  • @frank

    @Hammer

    Whistling A cheerful tune.....

    or rather, having some ultra-fit pensioner behind you doing it while you are attacking and trying to drop him.

    Apoarently he was an ex-pro knowns as "Whistling-Bob"

    Johan Museeuw does this as well. Very unnerving!

    He most certainly does - smiles as well and then talks to you. My peripheral vision was going and he was whistling - no wonder I schlecked my chain.

  • I tend to go in the other direction.  I'll over-exagerate the amount of pain I'm showing, so as to lull my riding mates into a false sense of security...

  • NEVER underestemate a fixed gear. Fixed gear riders who actualy ride (not that many here in Auckland) tend to be allot faster than they seem at first glance. I started off as a hipster on a fixie before joining the local bunch ride on said fixie. The fast riders of the bush do not like being passed up hills. The trick is to sit behind them and wait for the gear chainge. As they drop back I like to give a little glance at there face and then there (now in the granny ring) gears with a slight hint of distane. I do this on the geared bike as well.

  • Waiting for the gear change works well if you have gears at your disposal too. Wait for their down shift before dropping it into a smaller sprocket and pushing on. To make it convincing, your push / attack / attempt to irritate the fuck out of them must be conducted seated with a rock-steady upper body to hide the fact that you are wringing every last watt out of your guns. You can get back to recovering once you're two hairpins up the road and they can't see you popping your lungs and eyeballs back in.

  • @Fausto

    Waiting for the gear change works well if you have gears at your disposal too. Wait for their down shift before dropping it into a smaller sprocket and pushing on. To make it convincing, your push / attack / attempt to irritate the fuck out of them must be conducted seated with a rock-steady upper body to hide the fact that you are wringing every last watt out of your guns. You can get back to recovering once you're two hairpins up the road and they can't see you popping your lungs and eyeballs back in.

    Waiting for them to stand works too.

    Can't believe this hasn't been posted yet. Cancellara defines "illusion of transparency".

  • @The Grande Fondue Ai-cha-cha awesome! If I happen onto the right gear and stay down while turning, I'm thinking "don't break the spell..." -- surge if at possible. That was perfect putting Boonen on the Sword!

  • Works on Sagan, too.

    I suspect that may be the last time for a few years we see anyone do that to Peter Sagan.

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