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.
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Watching Froome require a gel or risk meeting The Man, within 5k of the stage finish to Alpe D'Huez I doubted the value of it's consumption so close to home. However on a not so particularly long (122k) but extremely mountainous ride in the summer heat of Gran Canaria I felt A Presence still faced with 10k of lumpy coast road into a headwind until the sanctuary of pool and a cold beer or 2 (order to be determined).
I admit I reached for my emergency gel and accompanied by a swig of water I was amazed at how quickly the man dropped off my back wheel. Whilst I agree there is merit in meeting him from time to time, not that I'm inclined to shake his hand when we do, there is also need sometimes to have a contingency for keeping him at bay. Chapeau to those boffins who can design something to be absorbed by the body so quickly.
As for Vaughters plan? I used to fast commute on espresso only but came tired of retching it up and wasting good coffee.
@the Engine
What's that you say? It's crap? In that I case I don't know what all the fuss is about.
@the Engine I'm surprised that you've even heard of Buck 65, unless you're a closet Hip Hop fan. Then again, you might have just done a search on the interwebs. Me? I've djed with many a legend such as Afrika Bambaataa and Cool DJ Herc, two of the holy trinity of Hip Hop.
@snoov
One has a number of teenage children...
@Puffy
I mostly agree - certainly if a casual or sportive rider on anything under 200km or 2000m should have cause to meet the MWTH then yes they have probably fucked up somewhere along the line.
There are people who use it as part of a training plan and if you set out to do that then fine, although I personally think it belongs more to the days of De Vlaeminck and Fignon than Degenkolb and Froome.
Until the man with the hammer has formally introduced himself to you, you will never know how deep you can go. Physically you are completely wrecked, and so it becomes a mental battle , a dark, dark place where character and fortitude are tested. Do you swing by that cafe for some water? Do you reach for the mobile in your pocket? Hell, no, you suffer like a dog, and you are all the better for it.
As to the Man with the Hammer, I don't think I've truly met him yet, might have glimpsed him just behind a tree a few times. Tuesday night I fought to hold a wheel as we got closer to the town sign sprint, as the wheel moved away I gave everything to catch it again, I started to feel like I was gonna come off my bike, seemed like I was getting dizzy. I took a moment to recover and went for it again, they'd all blown up in front of me (went to early) and for the first time I caught and passed them. Many of the better riders weren't there though so I've still plenty improvements to make. My poor climbing at the last Cogal is testament to that!
Great piece, Frank, these are my favourites.
I'm not sure that I've been hit by the man with the hammer yet, I haven't done enough truly long or mountainous rides that I've been in so deep that simply easing off for a short period would allow the legs to return to some sort of form to allow a decent pace to be maintained.
I came close, I think, on the Tourmalet last year when the man walked alongside me for a while and may even have filled my bidon on occasion but I think that he got bored watching a cyclist whose will was clearly failing before his body. I climb like a battleship.
I may also have come close on KT13 but Geneviève's baguettes trump a hammer on any day even when there is a cold headwind blowing out of Belgium and once you've put Camphin-en-Pévèle and Carrefour de l'Arbre behind you and you know you're on the final run in, the legs become disconnected and the man with the hammer becomes less of a concern.
Supreme article. When me and my friends decide to open a website for collect our bicycle experience we chose the name "L'uomo col Martello".Respect to all the cyclist that constantly are looking for the man with hammer everytime they ride.
Jens rules! http://bicycling.com/blogs/hardlyserious/2013/07/30/my-favorite-enemy/
The description of the extra, yet unseen, companion is a great way of describing it. I've done some death marches home -- some planned, others not so much -- and there is an eerie feeling about it. Maybe it is the thought that some asshat ate your last bar, because you swear you had more provisions, or the mind gets a little foggy but at some level you aren't entirely riding it alone. The spectre sucks your wheel and never takes a pull.