It never gets easier, you just go faster.
– Greg LeMond
Rule #5 looms above the other Rules in terms of sheer relevance to Cycling; it is the fundamental building block upon which this sport is built. The Five is what drives us, it is the force that springs from a well that flows deep within each of us. It must be discovered, and then we learn to use it. Like all wells, our individual Five Well is but an access points into a vast source, one that flows unseen between many other wells and is spread over enormous distances. The Five binds us all together as brothers and sisters along the path to La Vie Velominatus; we may learn to access The V and we may learn to use it but we can never control it.
If Rule #5 is the fundamental building block of our sport, then Rule #10 is its fundamental application. There is a climb I frequently ride that starts from the Twentynine Pines Campground on the Teanaway Road North Fork Road out of Cle Elum that snakes up to Esmeralda Basin at the foot of the Enchantments (which is possibly the most beautiful place on Earth). The climb isn’t difficult in itself; 355 meters gained over 15 kilometers on good gravel at a modest alpine elevation of 800m.
One of the beautiful aspects of climbing is that a moderate gradient can in many ways be more challenging than a steep one; steep slopes will force you to tap into your reserves very quickly, but they also offer no alternative but to continue grinding away. A moderate gradient has more to do with will and determination; the slope doesn’t take its pound of flesh in itself – the difficulty of the climb comes from the willingness of the rider to push themselves into the red through sheer determination.
The climb to Esmeralda Basin starts fast along a faux-plat with lots of washboard that forces the rider to dodge along the road in search of the best surface. By the time the gradient starts to increase, the legs will be dull from dodging through the bumpy terrain and the mind will already feel tired from the strain of concentration, much like it does at the end of a secteur of pavé. At this point, the washboards are more scarce, but the quality of the gravel surface also deteriorates. The high speeds can still be maintained, but this requires immense focus as you still need to pick your line carefully while maintaining the force of the effort and resisting the ever-increasing desire to relent.
The last five kilometers are steeper and on the worst surface, with rain having carved erratic ruts and mud, gravel and debris collecting in loose deltas along their bases. But the various trailheads along the way means the road near the top is lined with cars which make you feel like you’re climbing to a summit finish at the Tour de France; the final push is made easier via a bit of adrenaline from this fantasy, but it only speeds the journey into hypoxia. Into the parking lot at the top, panting like a rabid gorilla cause strangers to peer at you askance wondering if you are dying or just crazy. To most of them, the idea does not occur that you might be both.
It is no coincidence that Rule #5 plus Rule #5 equals Rule #10; how hard a climb is follows from how hard we are willing to push ourselves. There is no such thing as an easy climb; it isn’t the gradient that causes one to suffer – it is magnitude of the effort.
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
How do you know its the bottom of the cave? Often we never fully plumb its depth. Unless the bottom is when you're lying by the side of the road
@Puffy interesting. I've had the reverse come from an inadvertent change to my riding patterns. Previously my riding consisted of ~200-250k per week on various routes through the hills on my doorstep depending upon what I felt like on the day. As I don't race, there was no need for any structured training, it was just a case of making sure I was fit enough for specific rides/goals.
Since the VMH has gone back to work 3 days a week, I've substituted one of the pre-work rides with 3x20k post-work flat, windy, TT style rides along the coast to pick up the velomitoddler & the car from the in laws place. During what I considered to be a pretty lax riding period over winter those 3 were the ever constant, with the amount of climbing rides I did varying depending on how many times I woke up to the alarm.
What I've noticed recently is my climbing form is better than ever because of additional strength & endurance I've picked up doing rides that involve keeping myself at a higher tempo for longer. Besides their predilection for EPO abuse, I'm starting to see how Danes & Dutchies are able to develop some climbing legs despite having no hills to climb!
@DeKerr
That is the +1 badge right there.
@Puffy
You nearly lost me at 20 x 20 min efforts.
@Mikael Liddy
How do you know its the bottom of the cave? Often we do not plumb or discover that depth. Unless the bottom is when you are left lying by the side of the road. Great piece.
@Brianold55
Did a recent foray into France on a Sportive and the last 20 K or so turned into a brutal onslaught of a headwind. Turned some longish but not too steep climbs into real brutes (as measured by not being able to hold top gear on the downhills). So in the last 20 KM we were well into the cave with the guy I had hooked up with and working well together, but on the climbs we were passing quite a few folk who presumably were from the short ride just sat at the roadside with that blank, vacant stare into the distance of abject exhaustion. They were definitely lying in that pool at the bottom of the cave.
@Brianold55 "How do you know its the bottom of the cave?"
When vision gets a bit fuzzy on the periphery and your ears quit working is always a good sign.
@Puffy
There's room for all of them. The pain cave is a big place.
One of the (many) things that has surprised me working with a proper coach is that he will often just do things two or three times at most, and that seems to have an effect.
For example in the leadup to an important race we might do a couple of weeks where one of the sessions are 40-20s (40 seconds max effort, 20 seconds rest - 10 times x 3). But a little bit further out we were doing 3x15 minute efforts with 4 mins rest, or one memorable excursion to the cave was 3 hours at 85-90% - we did that twice and it nearly killed me.
They'll only happen once in a week's program and only for a few weeks before we move on.
You have to keep changing it around, otherwise you lose as much as you gain.
And recovery can't be overstated. Training = Stress + Recovery.
@Brianold55
I have a pretty good idea what the bottom of the cave feels like (it's just too dark to know what it looks like). Final race of the year concludes with a 5.6 km 8% avg grade, summit finish. The proper way to introduce yourself to this place within the cave, is completely head first. I knew I reached that dark corner in a dizzying experience, attempting to keep pace with the lead pack. My V-meter was telling me, these numbers are too high for you to maintain for 20 minutes, but my body was saying, ".....what's the big deal, I feel good, I got this...." So for 2 km, I was riding out of my mind. Then in a moment, without any warning, I was dizzy and delirious. I looked at the ground to get some focus, and watched as the pavement moved below me liked an old jumpy reel to reel filmstrip. Composure is lost.... lead pack rides away....
So, my hard charging self, ran smack into a wall, somewhere deep in the cave, (and this is no bullshit) I almost fell over two or three times, dragging my wasted ass along the painful grade. I'd swerve at the last second, just enough to stay upright, nearly taking out other racers, ready to be yelled at, "Hold your line asshole!" But thankfully, never a peep. They must have been feeling their way through the same dark place I was (or they simply felt sorry for me as they watched me teeter totter across the road). I am convinced The Man With The Hammer had a hold of my seat post, tugging on it, whispering in my ear, encouraging me to give up. In truly ugly fashion, I finished, complete with photographic proof, I scratched and clawed my way back to the entrance of the cave.
I dunno...with support like this maybe the ride would be easier?