One of greatest cycling pleasures is riding with a mate. Riding ten centimeters off each other’s rear wheel for hours; trust is a beautiful thing. You swing over, ease your effort slightly so your mate rides through, you then tuck behind, in the draft, close and fast. It is the best. @Kah touches on this and other transcendent benefits from a ride with a mate.
VLVV, Gianni
I sometimes wonder if the Rules were meant to be followed backwards, from 93 to 1. For example, the Principle of Silence in Rule #65 decrees that the bicycle should be silent. The mechanical benefits of a well-maintained steed are clear: respect for the machine and in return, speed and efficiency. Now, a silent bicycle with a smooth rider on board is well on his or her way to achieving Rule #6: a free mind via fluidly harmonic articulations.
I went for a road ride with my friend Brett today. The weather forecast wasn’t great, but he had spotted a gap in the passing showers and we meant to make the most of it.
After the usual early gasbagging we navigated traffic through town and settled into single file, and I was led towards the highway. For the most part we’re close enough that he fills my immediate field of vision, and I’m afforded to admire the ocean at my periphery and trust him with the road ahead. As I follow, I don’t really have to think twice about what I’m doing, but rather just respond to body language interlaced with hand gestures. We didn’t speak for a while, both seemingly left with our own thoughts as we swapped turns seamlessly.
As my legs started to settle into their own rhythm I got a chance to watch him ride. The cliche joke is that cyclists spend a lot of time staring at each others’ arses while out on our bikes (a thought commonly shared by the most homophobic). There are so many better things to look for when following a fellow Cyclist who knows what he’s doing. Brett has still shoulders, a good position, and an elegant supplesse to his pedal stroke. Similarly, watching his hand gestures gives a glimpse into his mood for the day too.
When I take my turn on the front, I try to emulate this stillness while maintaining our silent communication of the road conditions ahead. When I’m looking ahead at him, I’m not staring at his arse, I get to see through him – his experience of cycling means I am never surprised by the road conditions and for the most part our speed ebbs and flows rather than jerks and surges. This trust means eventually, slowly, finally – my mind cleared itself from the chatter that the typical work week leaves me with and a stillness follows.
I guess the difference between the tacit knowledge embodied by my riding buddies and the explicit knowledge that the Rules are trying to impart is the same as my Gran being a phenomenal chef; instinctively knowing just when and how to do the right thing, and how I have to Google how to hard-boil an egg. Obviously the difference is in our relative amounts of experience preparing food, but also in our interest and care in cooking. At some point, we just have to head out and learn through doing, transforming the theory of the Rules into innate knowledge.
As we rolled back toward the city, my legs burning from our earlier effort, my mind maintains that same stillness. Except now I’m more aware, awake, alive. I’m looking closely at my ally and adversary knowing he’s going to jump at any moment. When he doesn’t go, I have a dig (only friends attack friends right?), and this time I know whether he’s following when I hear the click-thunk of the derailleur engaging the sprint cog as we headed for the town-line sprint.
My world shrunk to the immediate visceral sensations of hurtling towards the end of the ride, tucked into the V-locus with my legs burning as I desperately try to gasp in air, I didn’t even care who got to the line first. For a few glorious moments, my mind was free.
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Great post.
May I also praise the joys of riding with people you don't really know, except on the bike? Big groups often have people you've never spoken more than "hey" to, and yet you trust them completely. You can read the size of the bump ahead by their hand gestures, and share their disgust at someone's weak turn from a glance. And you know exactly which way they will jump around slower riders on a hill, and you know exactly how much space you need before you have them beat in a sprint. Maybe you have coffee together after and laugh at the fools who led out the sprint, maybe you don't. Maybe you know their name, but that's probably only after you saw it on Strava. I might be weird, but I don't mind riding like that at all.
@Chris Yes I made that comment and this article reminded me of it. We must arrange an East, South or France cogal.
I had a couple of buddies some years back and all 3 of us were about the same pace and could nail it up for hours saying little but riveted together. My current buddies are not so experienced and this spring somehow I can blow them away too easily so I don't often get the same feel as I'm mostly doing the towing. I do quite a few Sportives and last year hooked up with a guy after a feed station on one of them and we just seemed to click. We were together for about 50K turn and turn about to the finish. We were both completely done at the end but just a smile, handshake and gasp of "Great ride mate" summed it up.
Beautiful writing, contrasts nicely with an old Robert Millar article I re-read yesterday
http://rouleur.cc/journal/racing/climberspeak
On the same theme, just done a 50km 4-man TTT - proper group riding ! We've all ridden with each other but not together in a TT before.
We were second by 16 seconds to the UAE national team, who were fully kitted out in TT rigs and disc wheels.
I was pondering this just yesterday. Was sitting with three mates after a properly murderous ride which we spent mostly silent, swaps communicated with a short elbow flick and hazard warnings nearly redundant. Having ridden a few Gran Fondos and other events, it's a bliss to ride with a neat, tightly-packed group, completely confident with each other whether it's 80km/h down a switchback road or gunning it through the local hills.
@ChrisO No need to chat - which is why I still don't know half my team member's names. If the riding's smooth, there's no need to open the mouth. I know their bike inside out, but their dayjob is none of my business.
Congrats on the TTT effort as well! Two of my teammates - the only ones who survived a massive crash (or the subsequent cut-off) on the first day of the Tour Arad - had to go in a two-man TTT against the six-man squads of local pros and the Russian and Ukrainian U23 squads. Main goal: Make the cut-off. Murderous effort, made it with a minute to spare...
I moved a few years ago and left behind a great group of riding friends. Even two hours away seems like an insurmountable distance, especially since most of the riding around here is the antiquated type from before we had the good sense to put tarmac down to ride on. There is one major group ride up here, and it's a lot of fun even though I usually get spat out the back (not to worry about my Five and Dime adherence, though, each ride I can stay with the group longer and longer). Although the vast majority of my rides are solo, there are a couple of people I ride with from time to time, and as the author states it is a glorious thing to just sit on a wheel or know that someone trusts you enough to sit on yours.
This is a reason it's so important for those of us that can do this, to remember to teach it when newbies get in the mix. None of us were born knowing subtleties of riding in a bunch (or with a single other rider for that matter), I know I wasn't. I think that most of us train/ ride alone mostly, but do look forward to the big group rides. Knowing how to move about, signal the riders behind, all smoothly takes practice and a kind, firm hand of guidance. Once you have it down, it translates to riding with one or 2 mates, your regular bunch, or you can hop in with a train that's passing you on the open road.
Great article sir!
@scaler911
Yes...we have to teach it to anyone who shows the slightest interest.
On one of my first group rides, I did a number of dumbass things, among them being cheeky enough to think that I could hang with a bunch of dudes that were way out of my league. Those guys were totally unafraid to tell the rookie 1) what an asshole he was, and 2) how to stop being such an asshole. Then they dropped my ass. Did me a huge favor.
@scaler911
+1, and this is critical stuff for us Pedalwans who've come to the sport late, haven't grown up with these sorts of rides, and whose local club consists of geriatric tourers. I've found a few sites with explanations of signals, though there are inconsistencies -- does anyone have a definitive resource, or does common sense and good judgement usually make up for differences in practice?
@antihero
There's some basic, good tips here: http://pelotonmagazine.com/wisdom/how-to-ride-in-a-pack/, but to he honest (and in my opinion), there's no better teacher than being in the group. You'll know who's got experience just based on them riding like @kah describes in this article. Chat up the experienced guys, especially early on in the ride before the pace goes up, or at a rest stop, piss break. If they know early on, most of us experienced guys will take you under our wing, if even for a short ride to give you tips. It's safer for us to teach you, and more fun for the pedalwan.