Any return from time off the bike is always met with a peculiar mixture of anticipation and apprehension. I will be excited to return to the bike, but on some level I’ve become accustomed to not getting on my bike every day. Not riding is easy, and we are creatures of inertia – once the rhythm of the daily ride is broken, it takes a push to slip back into the current that carries us to fitness.
I will be apprehensive to discover how much of my form has left me; I was strong before the break, and some of that strength will have left me. I can always hurt my legs, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I still can. But pain feels different depending on which side of it you’re standing; in fitness, suffering feels farther removed, as if we somehow control the pain. When fitness has deserted us, however, we are at its mercy; we are in a hole from which the only escape lies through withstanding the suffering being heaped down upon us in shovel loads from above.
After a week off the bike to rest a knee annoyance incurred during my Festum Prophetae Hour ride, I found myself riding in the early morning rain. This was a wispy rain rain of lukewarm water, the kind of rain we normally find in a Seattle summer. I chose a route with few climbs, so I might not force my legs. The route started with a dozen or so kilometers of gradually rising road before dropping into a valley where the road pitches steeply upward for a short while before continuing on its way down to the seaside. My legs felt magical on the climb; I could push on them and the bike would go. This is why I love Cycling; how can something so rich and complex be so elemental – all we need do is push on the pedals.
I fell into a beautiful rhythm as I rode easily along the twisting road, unusually aware of how good I felt. There must be a tailwind, I thought to myself, as I rose out of the saddle to push over a small rise in the road. Not long after, I reached the turn-around point and found unequivocally that indeed there had been a tailwind. I lowered my chin in resignation to the work that lay ahead to return home. It occurred to me that this, a headwind, is the only kind of wind they have in Flanders.
On most days, I would fixate on the speed that this headwind was wringing from my machine; the most frustrating thing about a headwind is the small return in speed for the amount of pressure in the legs and lungs. But today, I had no designs on speed. I had no designs on returning home at a certain time, for that matter. There was only me and the bike. It is only on rides like these that we may truly appreciate the gifts of dimension that La Vie Velominatus can provide when we are willing to receive them.
Riding into a headwind, with the air swirling about your head and rustling the nearby forest and meadows, forms a lovely orchestra of woods, reeds, and winds. If it wasn’t normally so frustrating, it might be my favorite kind of riding.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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This story strikes me on two fronts: I'm a couple of years past the half century mark and complacence this past winter pushed me a couple of pounds over the tenth of a ton mark. In an effort to get back down to fighting weight (I'm down 7kg) and regain the lost fitness I've been putting in lots of base miles. Doing what I call "daily doubles" - an hour ride before work in the morning and 60-90 minutes after work at least three days a week. While not super high intensity the high volume (for me) recently caught up with me and I decided a proper rest was in order. I took an entire week off the bike. The first ride after the rest was a casual 65k. The ride into work the next morning brought heavy legs again. A day off. And then magic. All the miles, all the hanging on for dear life at the Wednesday Night Worlds, finally kicked in. Pushing the usual headwind in the morning is now a little less daunting. Now the fight is against the discipline of staying in (self)prescribed cadence/HR zones when the legs are saying "we can go faster".
The second front that Frank's story touched on is what I recently called (on Strava) the "Glorious Tailwind". Friday past, the VMH and I spent the night with some friends that live in town that is 90km upwind from us. Looking at the forecast winds for Saturday morning I decided to take Bike #1 with me and head out first thing in the morning for home. I must say that it was pretty rewarding to ride 90k solo and finish up with a 35kph+ average speed. Glorious Tailwind, O' How I Love Thee. It seems that in his great wisdom Merckx is a cruel taskmaster that forces us to put our nose into the wind much more often than not. Thankfully, he consoles us with the notion that it makes us stronger (Rule #10). But he is also gracious and Merckxiful and every once in a while he peels back the curtain to give us a glimpse of what riding in heaven will be like.
I've been off the bike for 8 days now due to a nagging, swollen achilles tendon from my wont of crushing anything that goes uphill. Apparently 45 years of abuse from cycling, climbing and to a lesser extent, skiing have taken their toll.
That said, it's feeling a bit better, so tomorrow back at it. It is the middle of "the season" after all, and winter is when you're supposed to heal.
I look forward to riding into the "wind tunnel" that is the Columbia River Gorge once more. If you time it just right, you can get a solid headwind in both directions of the out n back, tho I like going out fast with the wind at my back, and cursing Merckx every last K on the way home.
@PeakInTwoYears
Keepers Tour was into a block headwind for 9 days, on cobbles and bergs. You learn to find the good in something or you go crazy.
But headwinds infuriate me for the most part; its the one thing in Cycling that I really don't enjoy doing. But, as some have already pointed out, could be thought of as a long climb, so maybe I just need to listen for the orchestra more.
@freddy
Beautiful. You must have been the perfectly hydrated when you wrote that.
@itburns
There's a reason the Dutch are good climbers.
I'm in a kinda messy situation as well. Since a week I've been pestered by cough. It isn't just an ordinary cough though. It's a cough so deep you could think your chest starts where your ass ends! Because of that I couldn't train for 3 days and because of my business trip I won't be able to train another eight...
I have heard of these magical winds that push you from behind, where do I find these winds? They do not exist on on Maui. It has always been headwind out and headwind back. I have named these winds the " Invisible Hill ".
@il ciclista medio
Try riding Haleakala. Headwind in both directions near the top because it swirls around up there. That, and all along the shoulder on the way up you have a strong headwind. So much wind, in fact, that I think a 30-40mm rim would be advantageous over a low-profile climbing wheel.
@Chris
The Portland Cogal went up the Hood river valley into a block headwind. We were sprinting on the front doing something like 20kph. On the way back, we were spinning out our top gear. It was like legal EPO.
@Chris Jennings
I like this.
@wiscot
I was having a chat about this yesterday; Strava has so many cool aspects to it, but the segments etc make it hard to stick to a training plan.
I've been riding with a V-Meter since the fall and love it. I go back and forth on having a computer and it comes and goes - numbers are fun and data-based training can be super helpful. But invariably, I wind up having more fun without a computer.
If you know your body, it makes it easier to stick to your training plans without the numbers teasing you all the time.