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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Met him early this past April. A friend asks me to accompany him on an unassisted English century the next morning- I acquiesce. Not normally an issue, but I had about 60 km in my guns after two rides so far into the season (the allure of hardman status hadn't occurred to me as of yet and otherwise winter training in the Philly burbs is impossible.) I felt fantastic until about 140km in- all of a sudden, I was fantasizing about ditching my bike and collapsing in a burst of tears. I was convinced my back tire was at 2 bars of pressure, an alchemist turned my cranks to depleted uranium, and 20 km'h was beyond terminal velocity. The last 25 km were a blur of agony.
Best ride of the season- need to do it again soon. (And no more running in the winter to maintain cycling conditioning- the rollers have already taken residence in my garage.)
I have always found that Rule #6 washes away fear of the man with the hammer.
@Durishin
Until it doesn't. Truly meeting the the Man With The Hammer is not in your head, it is in your belly, your liver, and your blood chemistry. When you are depleted, you are depleted, no mater what your mind says.
@snoov
Cha-fkn-peau mofo. You continue to rise in my estimation.
I'm with @Puffy on this one. To unintentionally receive a visit by The Man With The Hammer anytime outside of a race means you probably did something wrong -- not enough water, not enough food, poor planning for where to resupply, etc. There's riding hard and getting extremely tired, such that you can't ride hard anymore, but that's dramatically different than completely blowing up and having your body start to shut down on itself. You can get the mental training of riding while exhausted without bonking.
I do plenty of long solo rides, the longest of the year so far being 520kms. If the Man visits, I'm right fucked because I might be 200+km from home. I'm riding much slower by the end due to the gradual accumulation of fatigue, but the hollow feeling in legs and stomach of a complete bonk is exactly what I'm trying to avoid.
If you plan on bonking during an event, then I guess knowing what that feels like is good. But if you plan on eating a certain way during a race, shouldn't you do your training in the same fashion?
@Collin
That's some impressive daily milage, but when do you do such rides? End of June? I did my 250kms and it took around 9 hours. You did double that. When do you start, before dawn and finish at dusk?
When I first started cycling I routinely met the Man with the Hammer when going out on 3.5+ hour solo training rides with no food, always making it home, but seemingly just barely. However he, along with my own stupidity, has knocked me off my bike once - after a long night of drinking, I started a group ride with a completely empty stomach (use your imagination). At the start of the largest climb of the day I was dropped and halfway up had to get off my bike and lay by the side of the road. I was able to call my sister and ask her to come get me, but I had no idea where I was (even though it was a road I was very familiar with). Since I couldn't tell her where I was I told her not to worry about coming to get me and that I'd figure it out. After about 20 minutes of laying there my head cleared up and I was able to call her back and let her know that I was ok, get back on the bike and get to a spot where I could get something to eat. I did end up catching up with a couple riders from the group and finished the ride with them, but that was by far my worst (and dumbest) day on a bike.
@Frank
Imposter! Imposter! Your name has been changed to avoid confusion.
Its funny, I was just thinking yesterday that its interesting that no one has ever posted using the name "frank" before.
@frank
I think it's funny you haven't programmed in a way to keep multiple people from posting under the same name, especially if it has already been registered.
(sorry couldn't resist)
@wiscot I did that ride the first weekend of June. I started around 6:30am and finished at midnight. With the long Michigan summer days, I only had to ride the last two hours or so in the dark.
I enjoy riding at night, so as the days get shorter more rides will spill over into night. By December, I'll end up starting in pitch black. With good lights and some extra reflecty bits, I feel just as safe as during the day. It is easy enough to see what the car coming up behind you is doing based on where the headlights are moving. I've never had a problem, just some quizzical looks at why this guy is out on his bike at midnight.