The Constant Companion
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.
Very nice description of the Man with the Hammer.
When he comes to call he demands all you have, then takes whats left. Forward movement to your destination is animated and in slow motion. But he does not abandon you until you have nothing left to give and nowhere left to go.
Thanks Frank. I feel reassured. I am about to embark on my longest competitive ride this weekend. Ive been anxious about it, but having had brief interloudes with thou that you speak of, I look forward to embracing said man, whole heartedly. I will ride and i shall complete the course.
I’ll peak in two months, but in the meantime my V-locus, shall be my focus.
A-Merckx.
Gorgeous, Frank. Climbers refer to something similar as “commitment.” For some old Roman or other it was crossing the Rubicon. But whatever you call it, when you go there there’s no going back, just through it and on. There are life lessons there.
The VMH and I are riding Hurricane Ridge from the house tomorrow–it’s my 150km birthday present. (We’d planned it for the weekend before the Cogal, but got screwed out of it.) I’ll be taking food with me, but I’ll still be inspired by your meditation here.
The Man with the Hammer and I had a long, wet bonding experience this weekend. Threat of Rule #9 weather meant the uninitiated ride leader called off the food stop with 60km to go. (didn’t pack any food, as a stop was scheduled.) We got on a very personal level with 20km to go, as most of the group heads home downhill to the east, I turn westward where copious amounts of Rule #5 were needed to make it up the 1.6km 12% that stands in my way on the way home.
There is also a flat route around the mountain, that i normally take when i’m gassed, but the Man with the Hammer promised 750ml of 8% post ride Muskoka. What a gentleman.
I met The Man yesterday on a three pass ride. On the third climb I blew up, bonked…took the hammer up side the head. I rallied twice, but ended up with my first DNF of the season. I was so wrecked that the VMH treated me to a post ride massage. Days like this call out for redemption, so I went out and communed with the Benevolent Spirit this morning. We rode 150 Km with a 1500 climb at the end. Redemption doesn’t come from cancelling the next day’s ride. During the fast descent down the backside it all came together. Tomorrow I’ll take my rest day.
Rule #12 applies to reading/editing as well – the correct number to edit an article is n+1. The last paragraph makes sense now. Maybe. I’ll confirm after the next time I read it.
Beautiful! Thanks Frank. I am inspired. I have been afraid of that man since some heart issues a few years ago but, the cardiologists says I am good to go so I’ll be out looking for him in the rain tomorrow.
Whilst I’ve felt the presence of the companion a couple of times over the last couple of weeks back on the bike I’m yet to suffer his strike (mainly because the rides haven’t been long enough). Planned 100+k for Saturday morning should have us properly reacquianted I suspect.
@gregorio So – to get a post ride massage from the VMH, one has to meet the Man and DNF. Presumably aided via a call to pick me up. How has this not been well communicated before? I’ve been trying to get the massage for 20 years. It now seems so simple …
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.
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.
Great article. Met the man more than once over the years. Funny thing happened on Sunday though. The goal this year was to get to the point where 160kms rides were not difficult. Not easy, but just not difficult. This has seen a few 200kms rides done without too much anguish. Sunday was gorgeous here in SE Wisconsin. Warm, but not hot, dry, sunny with fluffy clouds and little wind. I’d done 80kms on Thursday and Friday each and rested Saturday, psyching myself for long one on Sunday. I find that long rides are as much mental as physical, especially solo.
Anyway, I hit 200kms and realized that 250 was on the cards – the longest ever. I ate my last gel about this time. Over the ride I’d had three gels, a Clif bar, an oatmeal-to-go and two Little Debbie oatmeal cream pies and about 8 bottles. I was waiting for he Man with the hammer. He never showed.In fact, I was damn near flying the last 20kmns. I felt great. Where was he? I should have been on my knees begging for mercy. Was I tapping into fat reserves? Was I just on a special day?
Of course, not I want to go longer, knowing I can do it. However, I’ll always keep looking over my shoulder for the Man with the Hammer.
@Puffy Interesting points and these, with @Frank ‘s article, bring up the question of what training really is. Some would argue that if you haven’t pushed yourself to the ragged edge then you haven’t actually been training but just going for a bike ride. I think that’s what Frank’s getting at rather than exhibiting latent masochistic tendencies.
Frank is also bang on about training to or beyond the distance. The psychological aspect of cycling is as important as the physical and unless you’ve been there (man) then you just don’t know.
Nice one frank. While I wouldn’t call the companion my best friend, I’m quite happy to give him a piggyback home some days. The feeling one has once you’ve arrived, shattered and either sitting or laying down in the immediate minutes afterwards are an almost out of body (or mind) experience. I then find myself with a satisfied smile wondering when next we will meet. I also find Ms. Medio looking at me like I’m a complete fool. Shaking her head. Poor thing just doesn’t get it……
@G’rilla
quoting Buck 65? Very tasteful
@Jonny
In a race is when you push to the edge, not in training. Go longer than you’ll need to so you know you can endure the pace and distance, yes, but don’t induce chronic fatigue in order to get faster. It sounds counter-intuitive because it’s backwards.
Per Joe Friel: “An athlete should do the least amount of properly timed, specific training that brings continual improvement.”
I’ve met the Man, and I respect him more than most. But I don’t seek him out on training rides, because it is counter to actually getting fitter ad faster. During races, events, and non-season long rides, I take the long road and expect to meet him sometimes, and am the better for it, knowing how to handle the fatigue. But that’s a long way from a training philosophy or regimen.
@Chris
I also believe I met The Man on the Tourmalet last year and it felt like for the first time I understood the meaning of the phrase “pedaling squares”, but I was peaking in two months and too fat to climb.
This year, after 6 months of training properly I veritably danced up Mont Ventoux the day before the summit finish, even managing to ride away from a riding buddy in the final 200m who had last year dropped me by over 12 minutes on the Tourmalet. Now don’t get me wrong, Ventoux hurt like hell the entire way up, but 6 months of training properly and catching fleeting glimpses of Him on rides, meant that I was able to go the distance when I briefly encountered him 5km from the summit but on this occasion he didn’t seem interested and spared me his worst.
The next day we did the climb again in order to watch the stage finish, this time carrying food and extra water to last the day and this time, as I emerged out onto the barren moon-scape He was waiting for me and He swung at leg height…
When I was a competitive marathoner, I’d do what I called “depletion runs”, which were hard, long sessions such as a 9 mile run followed by a half marathon race with no food or drink. I don’t know if, physiologically speaking, this was actually a great training plan; in fact, I suspect that it was not. But I liked to experiment on different training methods using myself as the Guinea pig and I certainly got familiar with The Man with the Hammer. I would get really anxious for every one of those runs, and it was very fulfilling when they were over.
@V-olcano Joe Friel is a triathlete.
My personal view (more from a past life of running than my limited bike racing) is that unless you are racing a lot then you need to train out of your comfort zone to be able to know just how far and hard you can go in a race. You might not put every element of of a race into a training session – you tend to break it down to concentrate on different aspects in different sessions but you still need to address each one at some point.
@V-inden I suspect the man with the hammer has a holiday home on the Tourmalet.
Speaking of Fignon – I think you might like this, Frank: 5 Reasons Why He Was Laurent Fignon And You Couldn’t Have Been
We all need to respect the Man with the Hammer, I have made his aquaintance on a number of occasions and am sure, and strangely live in hope, that I will on a number more.
Those who are new to him; you do not need to ask if you have met him or for anybody to confirm your meeting, you will know and will forever more have one eye looking for him, only time will mean you will sense his presence just before he welcomes you, but even then there will be nothing you can do other than enjoy the sensation.
Frank, @all, great read and the comments are spot on. I can only add that I like to debate with the Man but not to argue… if I can help it.
How can we have this discussion without the classic Monstrous Mountains of the TdF 1950 illustration from Pellos?
… and while we’re on the subject:
@GT
Actually she paid for my massage. Simple? Only if you consider months of preparation evaporating and leaving one humbled! Moral of the story: Always travel with the debit card.
@Chris S
Probably. I think it’s a different experience for different people. Early July I set out on a big leg burner with no intention of meeting TMWTH. It was hot, (31C), hilly and long: http://www.strava.com/activities/67152193
Near the top of McKenzie Pass, I had been out of water for 20K, and it would be another 40K before I’d have someplace to get some. After finally refilling the bidon’s and heading back for camp, I was doing the last big climb and the Mrs, little scaler and a friend were driving to a hike in the opposite direction. They stopped to say “hi” and I didn’t even see them for a bit as they drove next to me. Every pedal turn, while bringing me closer to camp (a cold river and beer), was soul crushing. One pedal revolution for every smash to the skull.
Good article here on the Nature v Nurture / 10,000 hours concepts.
And relevant to the current discussion it has some insight into the very different ways in which different people react to training.
http://www.outsideonline.com/outdoor-adventure/media/books/How-Athletes-Get-Great.html?page=all
@Jamie I rather like his depiction of the hell of the north
@Gianni
My Festum Prophetae tradition of a long solo ride is consistent in having the Hammering Man along for company toward the end. For this tradition only, I would feel cheated if he didn’t show. The rest of the time, he is like a friend that accidentally breaks stuff when he visits your home – you are surprised by the damage, try and continue to enjoy the visit in spite of this, and deal with the aftermath as best as possible.
@itburns
I’m with Gianni here. I do my best to keep the door barred and that bastard at bay.