Daylight Savings always represents a turning point for my cycling season. In Fall, it represents leaving my season’s goals behind as I find once again the simple pleasure of riding my bike for the sake of riding my bike; the sensation of the rhythm, the hypnosis of rain dripping from my cycling cap’s brim, the cool air in my lungs, the indulgence in Rule #9. In Spring, like the bits of green beginning to appear on the tree branches and shrubs along the street, the ambition to start increasing the intensity of my training is beginning to bud. When I set my clock forward on Sunday, I knew the time had come.
The pleasure I found in riding with my objectives just at my back and a long winter stretching before me has been replaced by a desire to rediscover that strength in my legs that gives me the feeling that I can somehow control the pain of an intense effort. The sensation of Control Over Pain rests in my mind like the shadow of a dream which only becomes more vague the more I try to remember how it felt. Riding tempo on the climb up Interlaken Boulevard on Sunday did little to reassure me that such control has ever been within my grasp.
With Daylight Savings, my attitude turns from being glad that I got out on the bike to being disappointed if I didn’t. Objectives for the season are mapped out – whatever they may be – and a plan is formed around meeting them. At the start, the fitness I had the previous season seems unattainable. I have been working hard to get thin and fit, but the pain in my legs and burning in my lungs tells me otherwise when the road points upward.
Then, slowly, the sensations return. Almost without warning, I’ll find myself at the tight switchback before the steep section on one of my favorite climbs, and instead down-shifting as I exit the turn and hit the first of the ramps, I’ll find myself rising out of the saddle and pushing onward. Then, weeks later still, I’ll hit that same turn while still in the big ring. The power in my legs will feel good despite the pain flooding my senses.
The progression of fitness is something to look forward to. It takes work and sacrifice, but the rewards are palpable; the progression is along a scale of relative improvements, with each improvement a tangible gain over the last. And that is why I do it. That is why I start, for the objective is too far away and too abstract. I am spurred on by the momentum gained through incremental improvement much more than that of the goal itself. The goal is fleeting; once obtained, there is either the next or nothing. The progression towards the goal, however, represents the continuous evolution of the cyclist.
Today I struggle to translate these things I know to be true into how I feel when I struggle up a climb. But over time, by continuing to step out into the rain and climb aboard my bike, I will start to claw my way forward. And each year, the progression starts when I set my clocks for Daylight Savings Time.
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I do wear DeSoto arm coolers only to cover up a tattoo. is that a violation of a rule?
It's a pleasure read this article and the relative comments.
Yes sadly daylight savings will end here in Tasmania very soon and gone will be the opportunities to get in a ride late in the day. The weather is also getting cooler but who cares there's plenty of gear that keeps one from hypothermia when its 10 degrees C during the day!
Here in Bris, Aus. the shit weather is just leaving and we are coming into the nice winter riding weather. That's right, cool to cold dry season.
Summer means sweating so much that you are constantly drinking to stave off dehydration before the next ride, then the washed out feeling when you're still thirsty but can't stand the thought of liquid. Monsoonal rain, means randomly getting dumped on and the occasional freak arse crazy storm being led out by 4 riders of the apocalypse.
When it's 35+ degrees (celsius) and 90% humidity I sometimes dream of fresh crisp icy air to breath and the "warmed from within" feeling under a couple of layers of fleece lined kit. Then I'm brought back to reality but sweat trickling off the brim of my cap and the damp stinky mess that I am. Looking pro ain't easy then.
Oh god I'm feeling nostalgic for rain.
We've had a horrible run of windy weeks in Abu Dhabi, but I was just thinking yesterday that there isn't the same glory about riding in the wind.
You come back after a rain-sodden ride and you are visibly affected - dripping, wet to the core but triumphant.
Come back after a windy ride where you've been in the red zone for half an hour trying to push 24km/h just to get home and you look exactly the same as if it had been a gentle breeze cooling you down and offering the occasional push.
And @Xponti, I know that feeling. Bad weather isn't just cold and wet. When the overnight minimum was 34 and by 9am it's over 40C... it doeesn't get much badder than that.
What's worse is that it's also just turned hot here. We're up to 35s now, so I know that even if the wind slows I have 6 months of baking heat ahead.
An ode to spring in crap haiku:
60 in New York
Stuck in the office, dyin'
Which road would I ride?
@frank. Yet another fine piece. As always a pleasure to read the thoughts put to keyboard.
But, I'm with the antipodes crews, stick your DST, ours is just finishing.
Bastards - nothing personal.
All you South Hemi's need to settle down! Have you learned nothing? You are on the other side of the cycle; your objectives at your back, you have been given carte blanche to enjoy riding for the simple joy of riding. Get out as much as you can, and enjoy the km's. In six months, you'll be ready to dial it back up.
@Marcus
Believe me, there is no connection between DST and good weather. I will spend most of my days on the rain bike until June. I did take the fenders off. Those things can go fuck themselves.
@RedRanger
You know, I thought that was one massively lame thing to do until I rode in Maui and realized how hot that sun gets. Strictly speaking, it's a violation of good taste, but no one's going to call you on it.
@Ron
I've harbored the same concerns, but there are a few things going on.
1. Drivers not paying close enough attention to hit you will likely do so regardless of the color of your kit.
2. The roads and terrain are rarely black, so it's not really camouflage anyway.
3. The V-Cog burns bright on the V-Kit. Easy to see.