Refinement

This will be my second year as a competitive cyclist, and only my third year as a road rider. Not that I was really a serious cyclist of any kind before that, but I did get to the trails every now and then on a mountain bike. As of now it's been almost two and a half years since I smoked a cigarette, and I'm all of 25 pounds lighter than when I started riding bikes seriously. That's mostly all muscle that I worked desperately to build up, and then realized was quite counter-productive to climbing mountains by bike.

What I'm saying is that a lot has changed in the past few years. It's easy to think that the bike sort of stays as a constant, but the fact of the matter is that our bikes need to adapt with us. We're always looking for new gear and trying as hard as we can to make the most informed choices about the equipment we buy. Sometimes the parts we buy for our bikes are necessary simply because they're lighter or better built, and sometimes we just buy something for the sake of having something new.

One of the things we rarely give enough credit to is the way we sit on the bike with the parts we have right now.

At a training ride, myself and a few others ended up sprinting for an imaginary line at about 40 mph. Or maybe faster. I wasn't really focused on the computer quite as much as the wheel to my left, and whether or not I could turn it into the wheel behind me.

Afterward, it was mentioned that myself and another teammate were at a disadvantage relative to the other 2 because the others had deep-dish carbon wheels with significant aero sections.

I won't mention the placing, but let's just say the advantage seemed rather insignificant. That's not to discount the benefit of having aerodynamic wheels, bikes, helmets, and all the rest. What I'm saying is that at that speed there is something on your bike that acts more like a sail than any box-section wheel.

I speak, of course, about the fat ass atop the bicycle.

Getting that fat ass into a more aerodynamic position will speed up every single bit of the ride whether it's the sprint or a descent. It's also worth noting that being more comfortable on the bike will lead to more power in everything you do, and the ability to keep putting that power to the pedals for longer periods of time.

And that's what my strategy will be this year. Don't get me wrong; I'll still be the consumer I've always been, but more than anything else I plan on making subtle changes to my position on the bike in an attempt to be more comfortable and aerodynamic. The changes don't stop at position, though. There are little things that can make a huge difference. Tire pressure comes to mind, as do things like how tight your kit and shoes are.

Hopefully I can find the time to write about some of those things, and shed light on them for anyone who cares to read. A certain Mr. Merckx said the key to being faster was to "Ride lots." That is still true, but there is also a lot to be learned from sitting down and thinking about how you ride, and making the subtle changes necessary to get the most out of your body and your bike.

Gear Review: Too Little

I wrote this a while back and never got around to posting it. I don't really know why. Here it is now, a season late, without any sort of proper segue as to why I hadn't written it earlier anyway.

A big reason for not writing this is what has been a record snowfall. For individual storms, for the season, and for all damn time, we've had more of the white powdery stuff than ever before. This is, of course, one of the worst things that can happen to a road cyclist. I say "a road cyclist" because my full suspension mountain bike is down for repairs, my hardtail jumping bike was just sold, and my 29er as well as my cyclocross bike don't exist. Which leaves me with nothing but a road bike.

On to what matters though: A gear review from someone that just barely knows what he's talking about. Now, I will grant you that there are a ton of places that you can find reviews by people that have very few years racing. I, however, am basically the exact same. Or I mean ... wait ... OK, so the fact of the matter is that I'm not that experienced, but sometimes that's good. I haven't been doing this and learning to hate things, or even worse, refusing to try things. That means I can give you a fresh impression. One that may be much like your own.

The gear I'd like to tell you about: Having too little.

That's right; I'm not going to write on about some brand name or specific piece of equipment that you absolutely can't live without. I'm going to tell you a little story. Hopefully you'll learn just as much from this as you will from hearing that a frame is "laterally stiff and vertically compliant."

A week out, the weather looked piss poor for Sunday, and poor for Saturday. The team keeps trying to get big rides going even though it's winter, but this weekend in particular didn't look so great. As the day came closer, the e-mails began to take a slightly less positive tone. People that were so-so early in the week turned to definitely not making it. People that were going to definitely go became so-so. A few said that we'd definitely be there.

Then, a few became two. Just myself and one other. The other guy that decided he'd make it is originally from Minnesota. That probably should have given me a bit of hesitation. It didn't.

The day of the ride I pulled my car up next to my mate's, and he got in the car where the heater was on full. I pulled out my trusty iPhone where the Weather Channel App told me it was 17 degrees Fahrenheit with a wind chill of -1. It did not dawn on me at the time that this is the exact temperature I keep my freezer set to.

In the time it took me to put on my sock liners, thick socks, shoes, and shoe covers, I had begun to lose feeling in a couple toes. When I was pretty much completely dressed I told my mate I'd need to take a minute before we headed out. My fingers, while being inside super thick Gore-Tex motorcycle gloves, had begun to sting something fierce from the whole 4 minutes it took to put my kit on.

For the record, I've ridden my motorcycle (without any fairing) at 70 mph when the temperature was 34 degrees, and while cold, my fingers didn't hurt like they did before that ride.

After a brief break behind the car and in what you could kind of call the sun, we rolled out.

It was cold. Winds over 20 mph, gusting to 40, and then adding 15+ mph I started to wonder if I was properly dressed. The ride starts with a mild climb, and then descends for a bit. After about half of the climb I was working my way from wondering to getting a feeling. We stopped so I could adjust my scarf and get it up over my cheeks which were starting to sting from wind burn.

A scarf is not only fashionable with the right outfit, but can be a very useful piece to add to your wardrobe when it's cold. I've even used a scarf with great success on the bike. There are certain things that a scarf can't do, though. This was one of those things.

As we neared the top of the first little incline, I began to know I was under-prepared and started to do the very loose calculations of just how much I could stand. We were climbing, so that was the warmest I could expect to be. But I wasn't really warmed up. What about when we went down though? A 35 mph head wind on top of everything? I don't really want that. But what about if the wind dies down on the other side of the road? And besides, I've gotta stick it out. Look at the guy next to me with the walrus moustache hanging out of his balclava. I don't want to disappoint the driving force behind getting the team rides started so early in the year.

Just over the top of the hill, I gave up. My cheeks were starting to feel like they were covered with sand paper and not cotton, my big toes were numbing while the toes descending from them were increasing in their pain levels, and my legs still hadn't even begun to come to life.

The moral of the story is that sometimes you don't have the right equipment for a particular circumstance. When that happens, it might be best to pack it in. If you get outside and realize you don't even want to stand there in street clothes, it might not be the best day for a ride.

My gear was too little, and I do not recommend it to anyone. If you've got the "too little" style of gear then do like I should have done and stay your ass inside. Trust me, it's more fun that way.

p.s. There is always one exception, and that is racing. If there's a race that you're underprepared for then go out there and do it anyway. You'll forget about how cold you are in no time.

Off That

You may have noticed in my previous post that I mentioned my legs being smaller, and that I had no way to confirm that numerically. The reason for that is because I'm not using data this winter.

Currently, I have a Garmin Edge 305 and a couple of CatEye cyclo-computers that all work. The Garmin needs some love every now and then, but you get the point. Why, then, would I not use them?

Because I don't have to. I decided that for the off-season this year, I would ride my bike whenever I could, and I would enjoy riding my bike for the sake of being on it. The theory is that by not constraining myself to training in a digital, numbers-based way, I'll have more fun, train harder, and enjoy myself more. After all, I'm not a professional racer, and that means that I ride my bike for the enjoyment of it.

I know that there are huge gains to be made by following a proper training plan, staying within the specified zones of heart rate or power and playing by the rules of a coach. I just didn't want to do that. I have coaching and training plans very much available and at my disposal, and they're all very good. Sometimes, you just have to realize that certain things aren't for you. Not right now at least.

In the future, I'll spring for a power meter setup and I'll go through all the enjoyment of figuring out my zones so I can train to different specialties.

For now, though, it's all about the fun and the feeling. A lot of people say that's just being Italian, and some might even say it's snobbish to simply rely on the feeling of my training. Really, it is all of that and more. By taking the computers off the bikes, I've really found that I look at the world around me a lot more. Even when there's snow at the side of the road and the sky above looks like it's going to burst open, it's all just so much better to be riding next to a river and really be able to watch the water fall down boulders that have slowly-thickening layers of ice forming. I'm not concerned with exactly how fast my heart is beating, and I'm not concerned with what percentage of my maximum that rate is. I am concerned with the responsiveness of my body on that particular day, how my bike is riding, and how I'm feeling about life.

Really, that's what bike riding is all about. Even when I get back into the digital style of training, I'll still take a lesson from what I've been doing the past few months and take the computer off for a ride every now and then. Sometimes, that means cruising through the hills and communing with nature while at other times, it's a team ride where we forget about the fact that "Today is supposed to be zone 2-3."

Changes

The past week and a half or so have been warmer than the last couple months. To say this is a welcome variation in temperature is like saying the sun kinda warm. The local news has said that this is known as the "January thaw" and that it happens pretty much annually. Which is odd given that I don't remember anything but cold followed by more cold last year. Maybe I was in a coma for the thaw last year. This year, however, not only was this "January thaw" very much needed, but it was actually an appropriate name. When the warm spell hit, we had feet of snow on the ground, ice frequently covered at least the shoulder of most roads, cars had to be started 15 minutes before they would even start thinking about making efficient locomotion, and my hand-brake froze in the engaged position.

For most people, this was pretty much just a difference in how many coats they put on in the morning. A few mornings it was even possible to get in your car and drive it immediately. Which is an amazing thing after a couple months of not having that luxury.

Most people, however, are not cyclists. Turns out, we're crazy. Temperatures above freezing this time of year almost immediately warrant a good ride. Hell, sometimes we don't even need that. Trying to be manly, a friend of mine and I set out on what was supposed to be a team ride. We were all of the team that showed up. It was 17 degrees with a wind-chill of -1. More on that later.

What I'm trying to get around to is the temperature being warmer, and the fact that at one point that temperatures was just over 50 degrees fahrenheit. I went for a ride that day, but my bib knickers were dirty from the day before. That left only one option: Bib shorts. Well, I guess I technically could have put on the full-length bib tights, but I typically reserve those for sub-freezing days and even then I hate the full-length tights.

So shorts it was. With embrocation, of course. What do you think I am; crazy?

For the record, my embrocation of choice was Mad Alchemy Medium that I've cut down with some mineral oil and just a touch of Bag Balm to make a smoother, more mild embrocation that is easier to remove and better for a shorter ride in warmer temps.

That day I wanted to get out for a longish ride with some hills. Which I did, and the ride was good. Well, the truth is that the ride was really really good. I was going well, the weather was cooperating the whole way, and other than my shoe covers rubbing a bit on my ankles, all was well.

About at mile 20, though, I looked down when I was climbing and noticed that something was different. Nay, something was wrong. Something was horribly, incredibly, absolutely ... smaller. That something, of course, was both of my thighs. They had shrunk. Somehow, throughout the winter and what was a rather extended break from the bike during the fall, my thighs lost on the order of inches from their circumference.

For those of you that may not be cyclists, losing mass in the thigh is like an adult film star losing mass in the ... ummm ... other leg. I mean, come on! Those two groups of muscle are what I rely on when the spring comes. They're how I sprint past everyone else, how I climb faster than everyone else, and how I know that I'm in really good shape when I'm walking and they do that crazy shiver thing with a hard foot-fall. Now ... they're small!

There is an up-side, though. Upon weighing myself, I realized that I am significantly lighter than I was last year at this time. A quick pinch around the spare tire region confirmed that while I'm not quite as pudgy as last year, I am still carrying a bit of reserved energy just in case my stash of nuts, dried meat, and tubers runs empty. And, like I said, I'm going well on the bike. I can't quantify that feeling with data, but I feel it.

So, if I'm just as powerful, still have weight to lose come spring, and have already shed on the order of one stone, what's the down-side?

Vanity! I'm completely and totally vain, and I need my thighs to be big so I feel like I'm fast. The racing season won't start for over a month (and then it's just training races) and I need to feel like I'm going to win in the meantime. Being all lean and light might be good for racing a bike in all actuality, but for the moment, these changes are really the sort of thing that get a guy down.

Ups and Downs: Motivation

Let me start off by saying that I love riding my bike. Plenty of people wax poetic about the connection they feel between themselves, the machine and the road. I don't know about all of that. I like being outside, I like challenging myself, and I like seeing new things. Even on the same ride I've done a hundred times, I'll notice new things.

That's now. It wasn't always that way.

Last year was my first year racing my bike. Which was different in about a million ways than riding my bike. When I'm out riding, it's by myself. I control how hard I go, how far into the hurt locker I venture. If I crash, it's because I was pushing my limits way too hard. Or I've had a seizure.

Racing, someone else controls the pace. Really, a few people that feel good that day control the pace. Sometimes that's great because you can ride at a good clip, have a conversation with the guy next to you, and it's all quite well. Other times it's too slow, and it doesn't feel like you're racing anyone. Then, there's the third kind of pace. That's the one that involves pain. That's racing.

Then there's the sketchiness aspect. Anyone with a pulse and a bike can race in the Cat. 5's. That means you don't need any bike handling skills whatsoever. It's like getting your driver's license without taking driver's ed. Or being behind the wheel except in a parking lot. It's scary.

After a couple of these sketchy races, I decided I wanted to move up in category as quickly as possible. Normally, it would take 10 races. With good results, I was assured, you could do it in fewer. So I raced my ass off. I trained sporadically and always at massive intensity in an attempt to bring in those results. And I did bring in results. In the rain and in the cold, I was racing hard and doing well.

I got that upgrade in under 10. In fact, I got it in about 6 races. I probably could have had it after 4 or 5, but I didn't want to be rejected. What can I say; I'm weak at heart when it comes to rejection.

Then, I pretty much quit. Remember that post from months ago that's just below this one? That was pretty much the last time I went for a real bike ride until winter hit. Then I got out the trainer and some old Tour videos on Netflix. Somehow, on the trainer, the passion started to slowly creep back in. I even decided to dust off the ol' Velomatic blog. I can't say how regular the posts will be for the winter months but when racing starts up, I'm sure there will be more to talk about. Until then, I'll be training, and maybe even letting you know how and why I'm doing what I'm doing.

For the moment, I'll leave you (the readers that once read my new blog and then my new blog and then quit because I quit) with this. Next season will be good. Not because I'm going to win or cat up, but because I'll enjoy riding my bike. And racing my bike. For the sake of racing it, and not in spite of racing it under certain circumstances. Results are good, but I already know that my first race of the year will be working for someone else. It's his birthday the next day, and he's been a good mate that deserves a W. There's just something about seeing a guy bury himself to the point of detonation in an attempt to set up someone else for a good result knowing they're not going to come close to the podium that day.