Those things in life that are worth having are those things which are difficult to come by; perseverance is made more rewarding by the volume of messages ignored by the mind as we work towards a goal.
Fatigue comes in many forms and is normally framed in negative connotations; weariness, exhaustion – both things to avoid. For a Cyclist, it can carry a range of meanings. We may become weary of riding in the rain, as I normally am at this time of year; stuffing my shoes with yesterday’s newspaper post-ride in the hope that the dry accounting of our current events will somehow render my shoes less soggy the next day. We may become weary as we approach the big climb of the day when we know what suffering lies around the bend. To push on during an effort despite an overwhelming exhaustion that lays bare our spirit and threatens to stop our legs from turning.
But fatigue can be a beautiful thing. The fatigue that registers as a result of the post-ride status check is the gauge by which we measure satisfaction in our work. Even during the ride, we find that fatigue may not always be the sentinel of the Man with the Hammer; even as the wave of exhaustion washes over us, we learn through practice that we can continue or even lift our effort.
My favorite fatigue is the kind that sets in during a long ride; when the body has acquiesced to the mind and the signals of discomfort and pain have stopped being sent. The legs at this point take on an almost anesthetic quality to them, they don’t hurt but they don’t feel either; they have a thickness that, while they lack the punch they have when fresh, allows us to continue to push on the pedals for hours on end.
This happened to me during my most recent long ride. It was a cold, rainy day – cold enough that snow fell at the tops of the two major climbs of the day. The last big climb came at 160km and, while there is no such thing as a flat route in the Seattle area, the roads home lacked the steep grades that characterize our urban streets. The descent from Cougar Mountain froze me to my core. Starting in the snow and ending in the pouring rain, I arrived at the first of the minor climbs on the way home and pushed the button on my left shifter to slip into the little ring. Instead of making contact, my frozen hand slipped limply along the lever and did little more than jiggle the button.
This presented an unusual problem. At this point I was tired after having a piled a load of kilometers in my legs. I was also becoming just the slightest bit annoyed at how cold I was. I swerved dangerously as I experimented with bashing different parts of my hands and arms against the disappointingly stubborn shifter to try to get it to budge. Inanimate objects and I have an uneasy history, and I soon found myself giving it the customary inputs involving profanity and questioning the pureness of its mother.
Having that unpleasant business out of the way, I resigned myself to riding home in the big ring feeling fortunate that my right hand was still capable of shifting so at least I wasn’t riding a glorified single speed. And then it hit me: it was actually quite easy to carry on this way, riding in the big ring. The legs still managed to turn over and I hardly felt a thing as I pushed harder on them whenever the road pointed up. Even a few of the hills on which I struggle to stay in the big ring during my usual training rides seemed to pass under my wheels without giving undue notice.
That sensation of power combined with the heavy fatigue I carried with me distinguishes itself as one that comes only during my longest rides on those days when my form is good enough that the effort hasn’t cracked me entirely. Wholly unlike the seduction of La Volupte, it does bear a vague similarity in its rarity. Powerful fatigue; vive la Vie Velominatus.
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Forged thru deliverance. Thanx for proving your merit again.
Nice stuff, Frank. I fixed your second sentence, though:
Awesome write up, Frank! Every time I pull off a new PR distance or ride through crazy conditions I return home feeling as if I've notched another mark in the stock of my Big Ring Gun(s), like I know I can do more on the bike the next time out than I did today and yesterday.
I feel like I was deprived of sustaining any true HardMan status this winter due to the extremely mild weather, cushy even for the southern U.S. I never even pulled on winter knickers, much less tights. I think I rode in below freezing temps just once. Very little rain too. The summer should prove to be as hot as at least four hells.
Broken shifter. Oh gosh, I snapped my cable last June in 103*F and had to big ring/small ring is home. That wasn't much fun. I guess cooking is better than freezing though.
Frank, I also can't believe you ride the White Slippers in shite conditions. I know, gear is meant to be ridden, but I ride my older Geniuses in bad weather, saving my Ergo2s for good weather. Then again, after a recent rain ride my Dominators feel molded to my foot. And my Ergo 2s have never felt quite that awesome. Maybe they need to be soaked & broken in?
I'm sure you've read it, but I have this on my wall above my work desk & thought it fit with the write-up:
"I have always struggled to achieve excellence. One thing that cycling has taught me is that if you can achieve something without a struggle it is not going to be satisfying."
-Greg LeMan
Amen, Fr0nk.
A bike ride just doesn't feel like a real ride unless you suffer a bit and are tired during/after the ride.
The last two weeks I've been taking it a bit easier on myself while riding as I've started to mix in weight lifting to help improve my core/lose more weight, which has left me with legs that are already half-shot by 10 am on Saturday morning.
And even though I am trying to "train smart" (going back to your article from a few weeks ago), it just doesn't have the same sense of accomplishment as rides where I go up to the top of all the local hills that are within ~10km of my house.
For me, nothing feels better than doing a good climb, getting a bit beat up by it so you have that "oh god this sucks oh god this sucks, fuck I'm already on my 25? Damnit..." as you grind away, then the glorious recovery after you summit. Where once you catch your breath and your heartrate lowers, you actually feel stronger and faster than before the climb. Can anyone explain THAT bit of magic? Truly an awesome part of the sport.
@Ron
If you save your good kit for nice weather in the Seattle area then you only get to use it about 43 days a year.
@mcsqueak
Nicely put. The sign of growing fitness is how quickly you recover. Good morning, today. Already 12c by the time I got out and legs and imagination were ready to take on the steeper three-step climb up the escarpment. At the top of each step, I was pleased with how quickly I was working back up the cassette and how I didn't let up along the rest of the ups and downs. Short ride, but all-out this morning. Finished with the satisfactory grimace of having gone hard and having more gas in the tank than I thought.
Fatigue to come on some longer rides later this week and next. And that's a whole other feeling: going out with the intention of meeting the man with the hammer. And hoping you make it home in one piece...
Man... To think I was 2nd guessing my hardness. To make the 13.5km ride into work today at a bone-chilling (for SoCal) 46°. Was the shifter frozen or was it just our bikes and our brains conspiring against us? I swear I heard "Sur La Plauque you frozen sausage-stuffed turkey!!"
VLVV
Mtnbikerfred
@Steampunk
Shit! Gotta get more repeats here in Pittsburgh to keep your wheel on the Cogal! I think King Clydsdale should plan on jaunting up across the border from Central PA for an inaugural century on his soon-to-be new machine.
As Peter Winnen once wrote: Macht in de poten is een heerlijk iets.