It requires a combination of factors to intersect. You need to have already spent loads of time on a bicycle. Enough so that you have an inherent sense of this odd thing with two wheels; you can make it go quickly or slowly, you can steer it around a corner with ease, you know how the introduction of a layer of moisture between the tires and the tarmac might affect the way it does these things.
There can’t be too clear a boundary between the bicycle and your body; those lines are best when blurred a bit. Hands to bars, feet to pedals, badonkadonk to saddle – these are contact points but they extend into the body to form a cohesive unit of rider and machine.
You need to know the difference between being out of shape, overweight, under-fed or hydrated, or simply being tired; these things have different implications and you must know how to manage them. You need to have met the Man with the Hammer enough times that you can feel him standing alongside you some time before his hammer hits. You need to know which actions bring him near, and you need to know which actions may stave him off.
These are all things that must be learned through many years spent in the saddle and cannot be gleaned from a book; this is a path you must walk yourself.
It also needs to be a long day out on the bike. Long enough that you’re tired with some distance yet to go; past the halfway point in the ride, but not so close to the end that you distract yourself with thoughts of finishing. There can only be the moment, nothing more. The legs need to be heavy from hours of effort but still strong. The pressure in the chest firm as the rhythm of your breathing is contant but not overly labored. The heart has to be pumping hard but not on its limit.
You have to be on the right kind of road to support a sustained, constant effort. Not too twisty, not too undulating. Not too scenic as scenery tends to be a distraction. Perhaps it is misty, humid. The air through which you ride wraps around you like a blanket.
You don’t have to be particularly strong that day, or fast, or in particularly good shape; you just need the right amounts of the right elements. As the legs start to go round, they draw you into a kind of hypnosis. The sight of the front wheel guiding you in the bottom of your periphery adds to the effect. Slowly, your senses turn inward, like falling asleep except that with every turn of the pedals, your focus grows more intense. You see everything and you see nothing. You see the road and you see obstacles, but acknowledgement of these things is reserved for critical items only. Only those things that require attention will be given it; the rest is reserved for turning the pedals.
The blanket you wrapped yourself in gets pulled up over your head, over your ears, nearly to your eyes. Darkness is everywhere except directly in front of you, the tunnel guiding you along. You hear nothing but the whirring of your tires, perhaps the changing of gear. The Man with the Hammer wanders close; you feel him. But La Volupte has graced you as well and she distracts him to stave off his hammer for a bit longer.
His killer blow will come, but not yet.
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@motor city
awesome - he's a bad man
You need to have met the Man with the Hammer enough times that you can feel him standing alongside you some time before his hammer hits. You need to know which actions bring him near, and you need to know which actions may stave him off
An example of this for me is last years 160k around Lake Taupo, NZ- lack of sleep the night before due to sleeping in tent in howling gale (man with hammer draws nigh) ; starting in fast group and eating properly (MWH recedes); buffeted by gale crosswinds (MWH draws nigh); descending, halfway around lake, in back of fast group at max velocity to hang on (MWH recedes); struggling at max heart rate to hang on to fast bunch in heavy crosswinds on the flat, as some gorilla applies the pressure up front (MWH breathing down back of neck); losing said bunch and riding solo for 25k in heat and wind (MWH you get the drift); Hatepe hill, 2k climb at 130k's ridden (bang! pound! Grind! Pound!)
@Rigid
Lordy, I think I can feel him strike you.... there is no escape
@moondance I agree completely: the day I stumbled upon this site was a very good day, regardless of the fact that it has played havoc on my productivity at work.
Like you, I've been a long-time lurker and am, as of today, a first-time poster. I'm the same age as you, and although I was very interested in cycling and a fairly active (mostly touring) cyclist in the 80s and 90s, at some point, life got in the way, as they say... This website is helping me in a big way to find my way back - and between all the laughs about the way people are janking each others' chains, I find myself oddly moved, at times, by the genuine warmth and appreciation for the sport in this place. (OK: they'll probably have my guts for garters after that one - but here goes...)
By the way: beautiful write-up, Frank. Petje af.
...I was there on Sunday morning ride, I was there into the tunnel.
Then, suddenly, a flashy guy passed our paceline at full speed.
Without exit that state, that's the point, I jumped out and on a long flyover he lost my wheel .
Then the ordinate paceline reborn again...
@scaler911
I was off the front in the phantom aerobars, I was aware that my legs were turning, that there were others behind me, although at that point all I could think about was the sensation of the first beer washing over my tongue when WHOOOOSH @G'rilla comes flying past me in the gravel ditch at 38km/h with @snowgeek in hot pursuit(or should we say hirsute). I damn near put a racing stripe in my chamois, came back to earth real quick there. Fucking awesome move by G'rilla.
@Frank & @Scaler911 that point along the ridge where you went into the tunnel, I don't think you were the only ones, I was behind you two and for a while my body was not mine, my legs were not mine, my bike was not mine, I was so transfixed on scaler's rear wheel that my mental image was this one dimensional imprint of scaler. I'm not sure it was the tunnel or the sound of his carbon wheels that hypnotized me, either way the tunnel is a cool experience.
Brilliant, inspired piece of writing, Frank. They was it describes cycling reminds of a famous poem about flying, "High Flight:"
"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds -
and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of -
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
"Up, up the long delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God."
Nice article, @Frank. It has me thinking about this season in general and Memorial Day weekend specifically. I decided to upgrade at the end of last season and diligently trained over the course of the winter only to be met with a series of DNF's and "Off the backs" as I was rudely awakened by the "next level". After three races I decided to go "freestyle" and just ride for the sake of riding which brings us to Memorial Day weekend which was rain, rain, and more rain. But it was the most fun I've had on a bike in a while. Things were going on exactly as you relate in your article. After a Friday spent in a warm drizzle I realized that I was having fun and looked forward to Saturday's ride whatever the weather would bring. Saturday brought hours of climbing as well as the rain and a decision to add on one more climb brought the mist you spoke of. I was tired and wet and cold and yet it didn't bother me. I could only see the wheel of my mate - the only other guy in town that joins me while all the other mortals are lemminging their way to a triple bypass - disappearing in the mist ahead and then I realized that I could push on the pedal a little harder. I "zoned out" to the rhythm of my climbing pace conscience of nothing other than the fact that it was getting faster, not slower, and that the lost wheel was coming back into view and barely noticed that the mist had turned into rain again. Hard rain. Then as we turned for home in the downpour I realized that though thoroughly soaked the cold has passed the point were it is not cold anymore but just a slight stinging of the skin that urged me to up the pace even faster. And we all know that when I go fast I am happy. I took great satisfaction in knowing that the passing motorist probably thought we were nuts - except for the guy in Outback with the rack on top. I was very satisfied to be Rule 9ing it and my satisfaction had infected my mate and he is starting to see the light that turns duty and dedication into a joy that transcends understanding. All this is to say that after a time of reflection about why I ride and getting back to riding for the enjoyment rather that the "results" things have turned around and that I'm going off the front now instead off the back.
@cyclops: thats golden man, i appreciate every word of it
@Fronk: it amazes me how you pull out the little things, and make them so relevant to our passion
I suppose I have been here, perhaps infrequently in hours at a time, but it roules out to the crux of souleurs problem in the saddle. The long long rides, and rest. In my passion I apply loads of V every ride. In theory, this works, in reality, not having rest days sucks and yeilds a rider who sucks more hind tit than a cheap date in vegas. Anyway, as I slide, let me say, having set rest days this year has brought me into exactly what your discussing, knowing when to go, knowing when to spin, knowing when to recover, knowing when to blow it, and then finding these moments when your in that zone....absolutely precious. And yes, as you slide into those long efforts, it really helps.
Mine this morning was running through the round about into town, up over the ramp over the interstate and a nice long stretch into town as i ride to work, i had a 15k warm up and was spinning nicely, put the head down for a hard effort, on a flat stretch of road outran my 53x12...looked down and was spinning 60+km/h...then the breathing got heavy. It was a short glide, not the hours you mention, but i submit, we an find ourselves in that tunnel for short efforts too.
nonehtless, being a purist, i hate resting. I feel like a pussy when i do and loathe 'easy' rides, that is until the next ride and now in a sequence of rest days and rides where i have literally seen my averages up over 4-5k/hr, that is worthy. So, I am accepting the holist approach to applying the V appropriately.
will be looking to go in to the tunnel, hoping the man with the hammer will circle like a helicopter overhead leaving me alone
Wow Soleur,
I wish I could mindlessly hit 60kmh on a flat road during my commute to work... There is one steep descent where I'm rolling that fast, but I'm generally pretty engaged at that point.