I’ve been doing fasting rides on the weekend, before breakfast and maybe also before lunch, depending on how long the ride is. The longer the ride, the lower the intensity. Also the more likely I am to meet my old friend, the Man with the Hammer. I might bring an Emergency Gel, in its glass tube, but I never use it, no matter how enthusiastic his visit is.

I love the hollow feeling you get just before his visits; it sharpens your senses and brings out an awareness that is hard to achieve with a sated belly. I’ve read that mountaineers experience euphoric hallucinations when they are on the verge of collapse, high up on some Merckx-forsaken snowy mountaintop. Similarly, La Volupté seems to make her appearances just prior to our own collapse, like a siren calling our ship to the rocks where her lover lies in wait with hammer lifted high.

The impulse is strong to avoid the dreaded bonk; we feel weak and if we’re riding in a group we will be unable to hold the wheel in front of us. It is not a pleasant experience. But when we continue riding in this state, the body will eventually adjust and find a way to carry on, albeit at a lower pace. Where prior to the collapse we felt a special awareness, afterwards there is a special numbness; a cloudy haze clings to us, insulating us from external stimuli. There is only us, the bike, and the road before us.

In these moments, the body becomes an automaton; the mind still works but its connection to the legs has been severed. The hands push the shifters and pull on the brakes as needed almost without influence from the head. This is for the simple reason that thinking is the least valuable thing one can do at times like this. Thinking will only lead one to become aware of the suffering. Thinking will only lead to wondering why we are putting ourselves through this. Thinking will only lead us to consider making a phone call to be collected in a heap at the roadside.

None of those thoughts will make us a better Cyclist.

I have had my espresso this morning; I am ready to ride. I look out the window and see the rain drawing its shifting patterns on the street outside my house. My phone tells me what the temperature is, but it does not tell me how cold it is. Only the ride will tell me how cold it is.

Today, I set out to meet my old friend once again; the rain will make his visit all the more brutal. Today is a good day to ride.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

View Comments

  • I love such rides. I find it is like having a moment of extreme clarity when that hollow feeling arrives. Almost a high.

  • Ive experienced seriously hitting the wall once, maybe just a little bit further than that which you describe. Unable to link pedaling with clear thought, fuzzy light head, and very little energy to the point of nausea. Not a good place to be without a sugar/glucose  fix. A good read

  • This is how I get to work each day. Start off with nothing but whatever was for dinner. The shower at work and a warm breakfast are the breakaway I must chase, and only when I arrive at the final stoplight 1km from work do I feel like I know I will catch them.

    It's a great way to start the day, I highly recommend it.

  • "My phone tells me what the temperature is, but it does not tell me how cold it is."

    That, my man, is gold.

    But to go looking for the bonk?  That is insanity. For I want to train tomorrow.  I want to build.  To be foolish is to fall behind.  Walk the fine line, certainly.  Ride to the point of needing fuel and then, and only then, re-up.  But bonk on purpose?  That my friend, is not just dancing with the devil, but eschewing all other partners in the name of futility.

  • @Joe Cline

    “My phone tells me what the temperature is, but it does not tell me how cold it is.”

    That, my man, is gold.

    But to go looking for the bonk? That is insanity. For I want to train tomorrow. I want to build. To be foolish is to fall behind. Walk the fine line, certainly. Ride to the point of needing fuel and then, and only then, re-up. But bonk on purpose? That my friend, is not just dancing with the devil, but eschewing all other partners in the name of futility.

    Yes, this got to the structure of the post I was going to write. I was going to write something like the following:

    Strong work. Love the nod to Kelly.

    On the "fasting ride" business, did you read some pseudo-scientific article about this, or did you just decide it was obviously an awesome thing to do? Once upon a time when I was sort of fit, I was in the habit of doing twice-monthly things like this, but not to the point of actual bonk.

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