A friend recently asked my advice for how to prepare for the longest ride he’d ever done. My approach is somewhat unorthodox when it comes to this sort of thing; I like to train to ride a lot farther than the event itself, and whenever possible, throw in a handful of sessions with my old friend, The Man with the Hammer. I suggested he do the same, just to make sure he understands the alchemy of combining total exhaustion with the reality of still having a long way to ride. Based on his response suggesting the idea somehow contained a bad taste, I assume he didn’t take my advice.
I didn’t invent this technique. De Vlaeminck was known for his marathon training sessions involving a diabolical mixture of V:00 am starts and distances of 400km in preparation for his favorite race, Paris-Roubaix. Fignon was known to head out for day-long rides with little or no food in his pockets with the express intent of meeting the Man with the Hammer.
The Man with the Hammer holds a special place in the mythology of Cycling; ruthless and unpredictable, he lurks about in the shadows, ready to strike at any time. Most fear him, but I have been bopped on the head by him so many times, I start to feel lonely for his visits after a few months. I sense him in the nape of my neck long before he draws his hammer down with his judgement. On long solo rides, when the mind retreats into The Tunnel, I often find myself carrying silent conversations. Perhaps it is he to whom I speak in those dark hours.
His presence as a constant companion may not be as insane as it sounds. Explorers have often spoken of feeling that another presence was traveling with them; the early teams who attempted to scale Mount Everest had difficulty reconciling the numbers in their party due to the convincing sensation that another had been with them. All three men in Shackleton’s party who crossed the island of South Georgia independently confided in their captain that they believed a fourth to be traveling with them. This, I am certain, is the great spirit of the Man with the Hammer. We must not fear him; though he may be ready to strike, he is a benevolent spirit.
There is something purifying in being completely depleted and still having to carry on; it flushes your transgressions from you in a cleansing flood. Don’t avoid this; seek it out; every rider should endeavor to experience his visits at least a few times per year. They remind you that you can push beyond your limits, that the only thing bridging the chasm to a goal is having the will to act.
Whenever I find myself weighed down and questioning myself, I head out on my bicycle with no food in the pockets and with the express intent of meeting my old friend, the Man with the Hammer.
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
I am relatively new to 'proper' cycling, so I wonder if any of you can confirm if some of my recent experiences constitute genuine meetings with The Man with the Hammer.
Is it him when all the power in my legs seems to palpably evaporate? When my speed drops by a factor of four, but the exertion feels the same? When my body suddenly becomes hypersensitive to every bump in the road as if the rubber on my tyres has been replaced with strips of metal? When I'm totally consumed by the mental effort required for every pedal rotation?
Is that The Man with the Hammer, because it'd be good to put a name to the pain.
This past Sunday I was sitting at a gas station drinking a coke at 9:30 in the morning after 85 km of fairly hard riding. I could go East, and be home in about 40 km. Or I could go West to the next river crossing and do battle with the hills on the other side of the river. I think you all know which path I chose.
There's a certain symmetry to all this. A true cyclist is always in search of new rides and achievements - riding faster, going longer distances, overcoming more interesting terrain. Any worthwhile ride is going to involve pain, and very possibly a visit from the Man with the Hammer. Some days you can mitigate this with food, pacing yourself and various other crutches. However, a true cyclist understands that some days you just have to take the long route and know that you will get home eventually.
I'm a relative newbie. Before the weekend just gone I'd never much over 100km in one go. I also do most of my riding in the flat lands of Cambridgeshire. Di the RideLondon 100 on Sunday- 160km with hills that would seem like bumps in the Alps but are as big as they come in the south east of England. THe third climb, Box Hill, scene of team GBR being spat out last year (admittedly they did it 9 times) seemed relatively easy. However, the climb before, the longer, steeper, higher Leith Hill? There I had my first proper tussle with The Man With The Hammer. My pace slowed to a crawl. The road was littered with those who'd surrendered and were walking. I had no idea how much further I had to go. No gizmos on the handlebars- I was relaying purely on the V-meter.
So yeah, I think I might want to revisit that pain. Fuck. I'm properly hooked now aren't I?
(as an aside, riding on closed roads is beyond superb. Even if I do descend like a wimp despite that)
I'm fairly well acquainted with The Man With The Hammer, having raced some marathons over the years. I've found that he haunts my cycling more so than he did my running.
My problem with him is the self doubt that is induced by the lower blood sugar levels. When he arrives at about 32 km into a marathon, you know it's only 38 minutes to go. These days on the bike it can be a long way home with him on my shoulder. A very long way.
Its easier to ease off and coast on the bke, but not so much when running. In my experience at least. Too tempting for the cadence to drop, when keeping it up is the key.
I don't invite The Man out on my rides, all I can do is find ways to let him ride along, and taunt him with my persistence as much as he taunts me with his devilish negativity.
I believe our man J. Vaughters endorses this kind of madness training to teach the body how to metabolize fat more readily. But his training consisted of:
1. Do long crushing ride without much food, burn all carbo out of system. Eat very little after ride.
2. Next day, another long crushing ride with just some espresso in the system. Ba-boooosch. Body is really forced to burn fat as all other stores are gone. Sounds like fun?
Fuck that. I've met the Man mit Hammer and after he hit the soft spot on my skull it took me forty-five minutes to ride the last three miles home. I don't like him, his people nor care to meet him again. He is an A-Hole.
It's also well known that much like a fighter pilot travelling in a straight line while trying to avoid enemy gun-fire, climbing a dead straight road only has one, rather painful outcome. The Man has much time to line up his target & his strike will not miss its mark.
He visited me last week. I have to say the memory is still a little too fresh in my mind to wax lyrical about it. As Jensy said after his face plant when asked if he remembered much about it "No! That is 30 minutes of my life full of pain and misery, why would I want to remember it!"
The Man with the Hammer is to be respected, his presence is an indicator that we are weak and have not been following the true path.
I am not sure he is to be welcomed, and be careful what you seek....you might just find it.
Great article though.
To truly meet the man with the hammer is not something I plan to do. Personally I believe if he arrives then I have failed. Failed to prepare for the ride, failed to train hard enough to complete it, failed to keep the carbs up during the ride etc. What ever way you look at it, it's a failure. Enter the tunnel, fine... but I find that if I don't snap out of it, take a break, eat something the man with the hammer is on his way. To get smacked by him means I have gone deep into reserves, done some damage and that is not good on a training ride. During competition by all means pull out all stops and to hell with the consequences but all other rides. Nope, fail.
@G'rilla
I don't know this verse. Has @Buck Rogers been anointed one of the Twelve Domestiques and penned a tome of cycling wisdom?
@Chris
I believe Mr 65 is an artiste known for performing what our former colonial cousins call "rap" m'lud.