The severity of a crash exists on two planes, the physical and psychological. The physical is the most obvious and one we busy ourselves with in the immediate vicinity of coming down. Our bodies need time to heal, our kits may need replacing or mending, and our bicycles may need repair work. For weeks and sometimes months, we may carry with us the scars that result when our bodies, bicycles, and tarmac momentarily occupy the same space.
We endeavor to reach a point where the mechanics of bike handling has moved into the subconscious. An experienced Cyclist no longer thinks in terms of steering or pedaling; instead, we exist in a stream of subconscious consciousness where our senses are heightened, yet none of our actions exist on a plane of explicit thought as we make subtle adjustments to our stroke, steering, and balance. As our experience grows, the bicycle becomes an extension of our physical selves; it is through finding this harmony that we are able to live on the razor’s edge between grace and disaster.
When disaster does strike, we are faced with scars beyond the physical that take much longer to recover than do our equipment and flesh. In the space of a single moment, the trust we felt in our machine and our ability to control it evaporates, leaving a hollow sense of betrayal that burrows away deeply into our minds. It stays there, far from view, only to surface during moments when we most rely on our confidence to avoid crashes; the sliding of a tire in a corner or the sudden interference of an object with our path – these situations require complete confidence in our machine and skills, yet during the time that our confidence is being rebuilt we doubt our instincts.
This is particularly true of cornering, where we are most prominently faced with the realities of our confidence, trust, and skills. Normally, we sense a crash approaching some time before it arrives. A problem with our trajectory or a slipping tire will give our minds a moment to react, even if our bodies are unable to. As we reflect on the crash afterwards, we’ll understand what happened, and what might have been done to avoid it; we use this knowledge to tell ourselves it was avoidable and tuck that nagging sense of doubt a bit farther out of reach. But a crash with no warning and no remedy sits naked in our minds and permeates every action and sensation as we struggle to regain our confidence.
This past December, I slipped on some black ice on a cold morning commute to the office. There were no signs of anything going amiss; there was only the crash. In the blink of an eye, I went from happily entering a corner to laying on the tarmac. The impact was so sudden, in fact, that the force of the fall was taken up by my hip and elbow – my hands never left the bars – and the impact so swift that my cleat tore apart as the impossibility of my occupying the same space as my bicycle and the road was resolved by my being separated abruptly from both.
My rides since then have suffered from nagging questions that flood my mind as I enter a corner, particularly in the wet; I no longer trust that I can judge the corner adequately or that my equipment will loyally carry me through. Logically, I know that while statistics suggest that one’s chances of crashing remain constant so long as environmental conditions don’t significantly change, I know shaken confidence ensures that crashes come in clusters as self-doubt overrides intuition cultivated over years of experience.
I must force myself to regain my confidence; the only path to doing so lies through ignoring my doubt and wrapping myself in the craft. Vive la Vie Velominatus.
I know as well as any of you that I've been checked out lately, kind…
Peter Sagan has undergone quite the transformation over the years; starting as a brash and…
The Women's road race has to be my favorite one-day road race after Paris-Roubaix and…
Holy fuckballs. I've never been this late ever on a VSP. I mean, I've missed…
This week we are currently in is the most boring week of the year. After…
I have memories of my life before Cycling, but as the years wear slowly on…
View Comments
@itburns
Yup, they have float, and I've always been happy with them, but since the crash in question my right knee has been screwy and after Haleakala the other knee when wonky as well, but in a different place. Speedplay just seems like a good design as far as riding goes, but a shit design as far as being off the bike goes.
I'll take the riding performance over the shitty mud-sucking cleat design...
@frank
Thanks on the pads. I've run that combo before. I've notice that when it's really raining my braking performance is adequate, probably because there is enough water to flush the rims relatively clean. The real problem is riding in the damp, when it's wet enough to slick and gunk up the rims but not get them clean-ish.
Re your knees maybe you should see a good fitter before you invest in a new pedal system.
@frank
Just remember to take the cafe covers and all is well
@Deakus
Irealise you use different shoes on different bikes but you could try a few pairs of cleats and swapping over the pedals as it would only take a few minutes to swap.
@the Engine
There are cafe covers that can stay on while riding.
I hope you like it.
@the Engine On topic of the speed-play, Did you set them up or have the LBS help out. I to roll with bonts but w/ look. I have run all three of there cleats, conceding to live with the out come. It's time for change i think.
@Cyclops Now thats true sportsman ship.
@snoov
Ah - here's a thing - always remember to take the cafe covers off before you get on the bike as the effect of not doing so - whilst hilarious to passers by - is less hilarious if you find yourself trying to pedal slippy pieces of plastic
I guess I'll just have to replace the Bonts with these.