No words survive here, only echoes. Echoes of our hopes, of our plans, of our failures. What we thought we might do when we came here is little more than a shadow; it flickers on the walls for a moment and when we turn to look, it is gone. Doubts swell up and bounce off the walls until they become so loud they can no longer be heard.
Once we’ve entered, we can not return the way we came; the only way out is to descend into the darkness and through to the other side. When we emerge, we will breathe a new life, one where we are able to push a bit harder, and suffer a bit more. It is a better world, one with opportunity. One where we can make things happen because we have discovered a new limit of our will.
Pushing deeper into The Cave is learned over time. When we first enter, we will find ourselves in a small cavern with no apparent exit. As we train and explore its darkest corners, we discover a passage. We gather our courage and slip into a larger, darker cavern to explore. Beyond that, there lies another. Each holds its own unique strain of suffering, but with it comes also a degree of control; the choice to enter is ours and ours alone.
When I’m strong, my mind yearns for the cleansing qualities of The Cave. I feel almost the master of my pain, that I command its ebbs and flows. Even on days that don’t require it, I will hurt myself just to prove I can. When I’m chasing my fitness, however, I approach it with the same reluctance I had as a child when made to eat my vegetables. The suffering flows over me in waves and I am at the mercy of its current.
My training this summer has been erratic and unstructured. I’ve had some great periods, and just as I’ve neared a goal, either illness or travel unexpectedly reared up before me and interrupted my progress. A week away from the bike means another two weeks before I find myself back to where I was. Two weeks of drifting like a leaf in the current. Two weeks of knowing what lies beyond, unable to reach it.
Then the breakthrough, and into the next cavern. It is only through contemplating the darkest corners of The Cave that we discover its deepest passages and it is within the deepest passages that we may discover our purest selves.
Have courage and follow the path into The Cave. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
I know as well as any of you that I've been checked out lately, kind…
Peter Sagan has undergone quite the transformation over the years; starting as a brash and…
The Women's road race has to be my favorite one-day road race after Paris-Roubaix and…
Holy fuckballs. I've never been this late ever on a VSP. I mean, I've missed…
This week we are currently in is the most boring week of the year. After…
I have memories of my life before Cycling, but as the years wear slowly on…
View Comments
@Teocalli
Try it one more time, its sure to work eventually even though nothing on either end is changing...
(You can't copy-paste, as has been said many, many times...if you're logged in, you can upload.)
@dobritch
Ok, this is driving me nuts. What jersey is Kelly wearing? It's got PDM logos on it and it says Tour de France on the right shoulder. It it a Pro Tour leader jersey? It sure isn't any kind of regular team jersey. Oli?
@frank
Yeah, and besides Teocalli, we love laughing at people who try and fail multiple times but only b/c we've been there ourselves!
@wiscot Off the cuff: Vuelta climbing jersey??? Isn't that one green? That jersey in that pick could be green?
No wait, tdf Points jeresy. Has to be.
@roger
Sorry MAN! WAY too fuck'in much caffeine this morning!!! Frickin bouncing off the walls here!
But, in my defense, those chicks were HAIRY!!! And smelly too!!! God, if I ever have PTSD it will be b/c of them!!!
@Rob
I'm not sure about the one you're talking about, but here he is in the rain killin' it on MSR. What a descent!
The cave.... I thought I was familiar with this lonely place. I thought wrong..... Still considering myself a noobie, just 11 months on a bike (I don't count the years I spent as a kid mashing the pedals of my Huffy). I am two weeks post participation in my first road race. A climber's race by all accounts, and according to my riding mates, the sort of race I'm suited to do well in. A 3 mile,1150' of gain hilltop finish. On a recon ride I was introduced to the 10% grades of which I found I was very much unprepared for. I begin questioning the climbing abilities several riding mates bestowed upon me, especially when, prior to completing the climb, I brought my machine to a stop so that I may breathe the hot muggy air. Finally, after cresting the hilltop and would be finish line, my two teammates ringing imaginary cowbells, I wasn't sure I had it in me to actually race.
Two weeks later, my two teammates having been upgraded from Cat 5 to Cat 4, I found myself in my first race, alone, hoping to catalog all the critical lessons I will apply at my next race. For example; staging myself near the rear of the start, so that I may "feel things out". Instead it turned out to be the most death defying display of bike control I've had to employ in my still short cycling life. After taking the first few miles to surgically maneuver myself and my machine to the front of the pack, I was finally able to put to use the advice that was passed out by more folks than I can count. "...stay near the front, but out of the wind until the final climb, then just go do your thing...". Well, on my recon of this course I avoided death from lack of oxygen. At this early point in my first race, I've avoided death by serious bodily harm. "Why the fuck am I doing this?" I quickly learned the next couple lessons; the race was easy at the front, safer, and somewhat less unfriendly. But we're talking about the cave.... So a couple of climbs later, racing felt rather easy, I'm still here, still feel fresh...... then an absolute screaming descent to the base of THE climb.
The pack is immediately blasted to pieces, and I soon find myself all but alone trying to keep in sight the small pack of six riders that immediately ripped into the climb at a pace I knew I could not maintain. I enter the cave; dark, damp and lonely. In a desperate search for more oxygen, I eventually crest the hill, cross the finish line and find myself in 13th place among 50, about 2 minutes off of first place. Post ride, even 2 hours later at lunch, my insides are still so stressed I can't put even half my lunch down. I really didn't feel like eating at all, but I'm there, it's what you do with your mates, and I didn't want to let on that I was still miserably dragging myself out of that cave.... An experience I've only felt the first couple of times I completed a full training ride chasing the Pro/1/2 guys on the club training rides.
Frustrated I didn't live up to the climbing phenom that others have bestowed upon me, this week I searched out the cave in solo fashion. 68 miles, 7600', so exhausted at the completion, my saddle felt as though it was part of my colon, my hands were shriveled like I spent 4 hours in a pool, every muscle in my body hurt, and my motor skills were so lacking, and I could barely retrieve my key fob from my jersey pocket, let alone attempt to operate it and unlock my vehicle as I deliriously stare through the window at the cooler full of ice cold hydration locked inside. Motherfucker I love this stuff!
@wiscot Got to be 1989 tdf when he was with PDM and he won the points jersey for the last time. Photo must have the colours bleached out.
You can see him in this jersey with same logos, esp the big one on the upper left, in this 1989 Winning mag cover.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/50737818@N08/5213244716
@Buck Rogers
Yeah it's great fighting one's own ineptitude. The weird thing was that the video insert would play in the update window but disappear when submitted (and I was logged in). I guess it's possible there was some sort of restriction on the video despite me cutting in the code seemingly ok. Oh well see what happens next time I try to post something. If at first you don't succeed repeat your ignorance later for everyone's enjoyment!
@unversio
Who doesn't love a little Don Knotts?
I actually worked in Mt. Airy for a while, which is where the Andy Rooney show was filmed. Anytime someone did something stupid, they would say they had done a "Gomer".