Waiting for the Man

Big Mig, waiting for an appointment with the Man with the Hammer.

You have three questions going through your mind:
How far to go?
How hard am I trying?
Is the pace sustainable for that distance?
If the answer is “yes”, that means you’re not trying hard enough. If it’s no, it’s too late to do anything about it. You’re looking for the answer “maybe”.

Chris Boardman, on The Hour Record, Rouleur

Cyclists, whether on the start line of a race or at the café before a group ride, are a chatty bunch. How’s your training going? The legs feeling alright? How do you like Di2? I could never go electronic, need to feel the cable, you know – need to be connected to my bike.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “substantive conversation”; we are more leg than brain, after all. But no matter how good the form has been, we are always worried that it has somehow left us, and worry tends to make the mouth go. Chatter distracts the mind from the doubts that should have been nagging us the last month about our training, but who only turned up about ten minutes before we arrived to the start, long after there was anything we could do about it.

The Contre la Montre, on the other hand, always shows a different rider. No matter how dominant the rider, they are always deep in thought, never chuckling, never grinning. There is no one to lighten the mood, no distracting the mind from the pain and inherent uncertainty of the body’s ability to cope with the suffering that is to come. There is an appointment with the Man with the Hammer somewhere on the road you are about to travel down; he is as unpredictable as he is ruthless.

The rider who waits on the start line of a time trial is a rider who is squaring up with the reality that no matter the state of their training, they are waiting for the man.

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.

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View Comments

Oli says:

Aug 31 2016 at 5:57 pm

Got twenty-six dollars in my hand...just in case I need to stop at a cafe.
starclimber says:

Aug 31 2016 at 6:21 pm

For me, there's a variant: the PD curve, which is defined as 'can I tolerate the quantity of Pain required for the Duration of the effort?'. My sweet spot is between 3 and 10 minutes, roughly. Shorter efforts end before I've managed to achieve maximal agony, and longer efforts bring out the designated quitter to whale away on my desire to continue.
Cary says:

Aug 31 2016 at 8:20 pm

"The Contre la Montre, on the other hand, always shows a different rider. No matter how dominant the rider, they are always deep in thought, never chuckling, never grinning. There is no one to lighten the mood, no distracting the mind from the pain and inherent uncertainty of the body’s ability to cope with the suffering that is to come. There is an appointment with the Man with the Hammer somewhere on the road you are about to travel down; he is as unpredictable as he is ruthless."

there is some absolutely stellar writing on this site, this being but one example. the thing about good writing is, ya know, it must not only be elegant, but real. nobody that has ever suffered alone in the wind, could help but FEEL this.

i remember my first road time trial like it happened this morning. it was board flat, so i decided to use my omnium bike, with a 52x16. there were a few good riders participating, not elite level, but the kind of club riders one quickly earns immense respect for the first time pulls are taken in a crosswind at 27mph. they all gave me the side eye when they saw me queue up on a track bike, but, when all was said and done, i narrowly missed the top 5, and beat a dozen-plus riders on funny bikes in the process. after that, i was more or less respected, and it felt good, cause some of them were already mythically strong, to me.

i mean, road racing of any kind gives you a new definition of strong, after awhile. learning to jump down that well of hurt headfirst without hesitation is not a thing that comes naturally to many.

i loved this piece.
RobSandy says:

Sep 1 2016 at 12:48 am

I was going to write something insightful about cycling but all I can currently think about is how brilliant a guitarist Mick Ronson was. I'll get back to you.
JohnB says:

Sep 1 2016 at 1:29 am

@Oli

Got twenty-six dollars in my hand…just in case I need to stop at a cafe.

Got £20 in my hand...just in case I need a taxi.
KogaLover says:

Sep 1 2016 at 2:44 am

@JohnB

Got £20 in my hand…just in case I need a taxi.

Doesn't get you far nowadays.... So you'd better crash close to home then. Take plastic with you.
ChrisO says:

Sep 1 2016 at 4:23 am

I think it's because you just know what's going to happen in a TT.

A road race can unfold in a hundred different ways. A TT will be either brilliantly painful or horribly painful and not much in between... spot the common thread.

It's also that you have that stone cold minute when the rider in front has gone. You roll up to the line, wait for the 30 second call before clipping in and having the bike held and then the final five second countdown - all your thoughts are bouncing around in your pointy helmet.

And at the end I hate it when you're a few seconds away from some benchmark. In three of the five open TTs I've done this year I've been one place off a podium or prize money, and the gaps have been 3, 4 and 9 seconds. In hindsight it's always easy to think you could have gone 5 or 10 seconds faster but it's bloody hard to think of that on the road.

There is one great thing about TTs which deserves a mention though - the minute man.

I love having someone to chase. I still stick to my gameplan but it's fun seeing whether you are catching them up and going past someone early on is quite uplifting.

On the other hand I hate being caught.
Randy C says:

Sep 1 2016 at 4:31 am

A cyclist showed up at our club's 2km uphill time trial yesterday. There's a 500 m stretch at 10+% and tops off around 18%. It's not easy. This dude knocked it off in 13 minutes. The catch? He was racing a hand cycle straight up the hill. Additionally, three of our local Jr's racers showed up and set first time PR's. And finally, at 04:55 we had an all time club record set. And thing was, at last minute I had a work obligation come up. Most times work is priority. But having scheduled the TT and responsible for organizing and timing I had to beg off. This particular TT is not the popular one in the club. Like I said, it's not an easy one. I was just hoping some folks would show. Turned out to be epic. A friggen hand cycle ?? Awesome to be witness. Cheers all
RobSandy says:

Sep 1 2016 at 4:33 am

@ChrisO

I think it’s because you just know what’s going to happen in a TT.

Oddly, I tend to feel calmer and more chatty prior to a TT. Like you say, you know what is going to happen and that is largely down to your form/fitness, which will become apparent as you start mashing the pedals. The pain is inevitable. The only nerves are the slight uncertainties about whether you'll get one of those 'floating' days or one of those days where it feels like a massive struggle.

And I know what you mean about the minute man - my best ride last season was where I kept my minute man in sight for the whole ride; a guy I know and who's pb is somewhat better than mine. I could just feel that I was reeling him in and in fact passed him just after the line. What a great feeling.

I have a road race this weekend, on the Gower, and I'm shitting myself. What I'm most worried about is watching the bunch disappear up the road on the first steep climb.
Buck Rogers says:

Sep 1 2016 at 5:35 am

@ChrisO

I think it’s because you just know what’s going to happen in a TT.

A road race can unfold in a hundred different ways. A TT will be either brilliantly painful or horribly painful and not much in between… spot the common thread.

It’s also that you have that stone cold minute when the rider in front has gone. You roll up to the line, wait for the 30 second call before clipping in and having the bike held and then the final five second countdown – all your thoughts are bouncing around in your pointy helmet.

And at the end I hate it when you’re a few seconds away from some benchmark. In three of the five open TTs I’ve done this year I’ve been one place off a podium or prize money, and the gaps have been 3, 4 and 9 seconds. In hindsight it’s always easy to think you could have gone 5 or 10 seconds faster but it’s bloody hard to think of that on the road.

There is one great thing about TTs which deserves a mention though – the minute man.

I love having someone to chase. I still stick to my gameplan but it’s fun seeing whether you are catching them up and going past someone early on is quite uplifting.

On the other hand I hate being caught.

Really great insight and thoughts.

I agree with loving having the rabbit out front but I, personally, live in pure mortal fear and dread of the guy coming up from behind!

And yes, I have won the Wooden Medal more than once over the last few years and it so sucks, doubly-so if you are only a few seconds back!