Ride. Lots. – Eddy Merckx

Note:  I was going to write about my 5 favorite flavors of Bundt Cake*, but that will have to wait.  Last night, I was invited on a training ride.  At the end of it, Rafal requested that I blog about the experience on the condition that I overanalyze the shit out of it.  Since I know no other way, I’m happy to oblige. 

Background on this year’s training strategy

In the past I’ve tried all sorts of training regimens.  This year, I decided they were generally too complicated for me to follow through on.  I decided to go with Eddy Merckx’ famous training advice:  Ride.  Lots.

Not to say that there is anything wrong with structured training.  I believe if you want to reach your absolute best, there must be structure.  But I think if you want to simply hang in local group rides, “Ride.  Lots.”  is more than sufficient.

Race – Er, um  – training ride report

Last night (Wednesday) was the “2013 Wednesday Night Worlds Prologue - Route Scout Edition” (working title).  Shim – as director of the Trek Store Wednesday night rides is working on a slightly different route from the previous years.  The hope is to avoid the busy area of 72^nd and Jones.

This ride started at the Park Services building near the BK Bridge.  Rafal, Jordan, Shim and Leah were there, but Leah was pressed for time so she just rode with us to about Ponca and turned back.

Let Me Explain why I was happy to be invited at all

A few weeks ago, I noticed the Saturday group rides I’ve been attending had slowed down considerably.  Where I’d been hanging on for dear life for the entirety of the ride, now I could actually get out and contribute from time to time.  This has opened up a whole new area of learning for me.  Honestly, for as long as I’ve been riding, I have never been in a position to do anything other than wheel suck, so I’m relatively ignorant of the finer points of group riding.  Particularly when it comes to any of the myriad ways to paceline.

On a recent ride, I made some error in group ride etiquette (riding 3 abreast at the front).  I was completely oblivious.  That’s when a more experienced rider charged up to the front and told me to back off.  I am fine with that and willing to learn.  But then this rider, sitting at the front spent roughly 5 minutes complaining about people and their fucking egos putting everyone else in danger, disrupting the group dynamic or whatever.  And on and on it went as I sat right behind getting very very sad.  Like this à L. 

It wasn’t ego.  It was ignorance.  I’d never (or rarely) been up there before.  I just felt really good that day and was thinking I’d put in some time at the front since I’d been sitting in for months.  I was thinking I kind of owed the group for doing all the work all winter.  Maybe they’d be thankful.  Maybe they’d like me.  At least until the weather warms up and they see my hairy legs.

When the rider (who is my hero, by the way) started attributing motives (ego) to my actions, he wasn't talking about me anymore.  He knows what goes on in his head, not mine.  I understand that now, but at the time I was upset.  I had screwed up.  People (or person) were (or was) mad about it.  Would I be unwelcome in the group?  And just when I was starting to feel the form to contribute.   Damn.

Luckily for me, a careful rereading of the rules reminded me to “Harden the Fuck Up” and I instantly felt better.

I don’t pretend to know what the hell is going on up there in elite-local-group-ride-ville.  It would do no good to tell me, “Hey Cube, if it ever happens that you’re strong enough to hang with us, this is how it will go.”

But now that I’m back in shape, the next step is to learn.  I like learning.  I don’t dislike it.  Last night I got a good tip or two from the others that really helped the ride go smoothly. 

As we got to the first climb, Jordan got a good rhythm going and was immediately about 10 or fifteen yards (meters, or is it metres) in front of us.  I felt ok, so I figured I’d get up there and grab his wheel before it was too late.  Without too much effort, I was on.  This is where I intended to stay for as long as I could.  I certainly wasn’t going to be going around him.  This is an average grade of 4.5% for 7/10^th of a mile.  We were going 15 MPH already and it seemed steady enough. 

Then there was this loud whirring noise to my left.  Oh it was Shim flying by.  Then Rafal.  Well, that’s it.  I’m done.  As Jordan picked up his pace to grab Shim’s Wheel (Rafal was now in front) I realized something I really couldn’t believe.  We were basically pacelining up this hill.  And the speed was increasing!  And I was still there.   And I didn’t feel too bad.  In fact, I was feeling pretty damn froggy, so I accelerated to the front and we continued this hill climbing rotation thing all the way to the top.  Unbelievable.  A glance down at the computer showed we were going 17.6 MPH as we crested the hill.

To Redemske’s credit, we did have a bit of a tailwind (and the questionable working together thing) when Rafal and I together shattered his lame-ass KOM by an astounding 1 second.  Jordan was penalized by 2 seconds for starting the climb before everyone else (and for having a beard).  You know what?  Strava’s not perfect, but that’s what we find so damn cute about it.

So that was new.  Fit cyclists pull each other up hills.  Hmm.  Interesting.  I never knew that.

Overanalyzing what had just happened, I knew I wasn’t good enough to do what I’d just done (there goes that ego again) but I had.  Sometimes people say, “All you need is a little confidence in your ability.”  I guess that’s true.  But last night I noticed that my confidence had nothing to do with my ability.  I was willing to try (like always) but in the past, it always resulted in a tremendous explosion of nothingness, followed by a painful standing on stubborn, heavy pedals.

The next part of the ride that was at all interesting was an uphill to tiny little rollers on Northern Hills Drive from Hwy 75 to 72^nd street.  Here again, Jordan took off.  I knew better than to try to catch him at the pace he was going.  Shim followed and caught him.  Rafal and I traded pulls to keep them in sight so we could pretend like we were there all the time when we got to 72^nd street.  “Dropped” is probably too strong a word here.  Good times.

Section 3 was the Wednesday Night Worlds section called “Ft Calhoun sprint on Omaha Trace”.  We didn’t go anywhere near the insane pace I’ve seen in the past on WNWs, but we went along pretty well.  Here’s where I was gently given instruction on a couple of things to do differently in the pulling rotation thing. I was appreciative for the instruction and the fellas were sure to throw me a biscuit each time I didn’t fuck it up too bad.  So that was cool.

Blah blah blah, down the hill into Ft Calhoun, over by Boyer chute, yawn.  We’re still taking our turns.  I am getting the feeling Rafal is starting to get tired, but I can’t be sure.  I figure it’s somehow my fault (ego). 

Then I make an inadvertent mistake, but am quickly corrected.  See, we’re heading closer to that one hill, called “Over Boyer Chute” on Strava, and I’m anticipating our little paceline will break up at any moment, and it will be every man for himself.  I imagine that it (the working together) has ended and ease up.  At this, Rafal looks back because I’ve let a gap form between me and Shim.  Understanding my error, I speed up to get to the front and pull as I should.  Shim, upon sensing the speed up, shouts something like “Calm down you whipper snapper,” and I fall to the place I belong.  This is the first time I realize we are all going to work as a group up the hill.  I’m amazed.  Once it turns upward, my suspicion that Rafal is having an off day is confirmed.  Jordan, Shim and I go up the hill together. 

The second time the hill gets steep I find myself in front.  I don’t feel those two coming around, so I then remember a story Brady told me about Shim wanting a lead out up a hill from the year before at the Spring Classic “Tour De Husker”.  So I bury myself for a little while until Shim and Jordan zip by to the top.  I still would say “dropped” is a bit strong.  Besides, I prefer to be alone on the ensuing descent.  I always have before.  No reason to stop now.

We all regroup and see Joe Savoie ahead.  We try to chase him down, but it’s no use because he’s too much of a stud.  Or well, his tires are too studded, I guess.

*I will say that Blueberry has to be in any Bundt cake discussion.