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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@frank Yeah, I don't "train" as I don't race, but I do get a bit fixated on distance and average speed. I don't do strava as I'm not that bothered by that level of detail and I'm a complete dunce with computers. I think a bit of black tape over the speed read-out will do me just fine. I did about 45 kms last night and it was just enough to hit the spot without going overboard.
@frank Nice, headwind or tailwind, it doesn't make much difference in terms of the vvatts that you're laying down but there's something special about burying yourself at high speed. That feeling of being just a little bit closer to doing it like the pros. It doesn't seems to happen often at all but it's a guilty pleasure to be savoured
There are only two ways in and out of our village so I tend to finish from the same direction which often leaves me struggling against something between a crosswind and a headwind until a t junction that turns back on itself slightly kilometre out at which point it'll be a tailwind home. When it's windy (all year so far) it's like easing a close hauled racing yacht on to a broad reach, there's a sudden silence as the wind stops whistling past your ears, your balance changes and then you're off.
@frank
Yep, that is the video that inspired the term.
This may not be 'Dutch Hills' but...was out for my regular training ride when after about 10k I really felt like the effort increased. I thought maybe I was just tired and kept going. All the while thinking, "Is this it? Has my fitness left for good?'" I continued on and eventually came to a downhill at which point my bike started to make a noise. I pulled over and discovered that my back brake had been rubbing!! After adjusting I surged up a hill like a new man. Duh!
Well, that's that then, now i'll have to get back on the bike then, going to be hard, 5 weeks off now, lots of which was spent lying down or sleeping. Better take it easy!
on the headwind issue it depends on my mood, if I'm feeling keen I go for headwind on the way home. But if you have a tail wind you should just go as hard at it anyway.
@the-farmer
glad to hear you are back in the saddle again, perhaps we can arrange a mini cogal to make up for the Desparate Dan event.
@frank
This is rather good.
@The Pressure
I think Pharmstrong was so doped in 2003 that he rode all of l'Alpe with a rubbing brakepad. And Luz Ardiden with a broken chainstay.
Moron.
Not you. Pharmy.
@strathlubnaig
par c'que c'est quoi? That sounds golden.
@frank
@the-farmer sadly missed out on the Dundee McCogal II recently due to a wee health issue, so we will try to get a few lads together to make up the lost km. Desperate Dan .... see pic below...his statue is in Dundee.