Taking energy inventory: Different every time

No matter how good you think you’re going to ride before you set out on the bike, you never really know until you’re out there. Because we all feel a little different every time. Strong, weak and in-between. In the early stages of the ride, we all take a little subconscious inventory of how much energy we have: Do the legs feel rubbery? Steely? When my legs start off feeling mushy, it usually means a slow day for me. Steely legs are sometimes happening at the start. They either stay that way through the ride, making for a fast day on the bike. Or at some point they tire out and lose power. Mushy.

In other cases, rubbery legs can sometimes be called upon to step it up. And they either have nothing, or they break out and suddenly become steely. That’s the best feeling because once they power through the shaky stage and into a strong cadence, they usually feel good to go for stamina through the rest of the ride. Then, at least, there’s and indication there’s some fitness progress goin’ on.

Working on fitness

I recently did three big rides in consecutive days in a quest to improve fitness, and each day held a different set of challenges. The first day it was very windy, so riding at a strong pace was a joke. By the time I got back, I was beat down, not feeling any love from the ride.

The second ride, with my buddy John, went better. The first 25 miles of the ride had a good tailwind, and we banged it out at an average of 17.5 mph the whole way on a course that included 1,200 feet of climbing. I hammered it all the way, and found out later that I’d burned most of my matches. The return ride was into a nasty headwind, and I pedaled into it, but without any power. John bolted past me and got so far ahead, it wasn’t long until I didn’t see him anymore.

So the ride back was a suffer-fest, the complete opposite of the first half.

On the third day there was very little wind. Riding with John again, we prodded each other for the first 25 miles and finished a bit faster than the day before. On the way back the legs were tired, but because there was no headwind, it was easier going. Still the cumulative fatigue in the legs bogged down the pace to keep the second half fairly fast for John, pretty slow for me. When there’s still plenty of gas in the tank on the last 14.5 miles, enough to keep banging out a strong pace with managed suffering, fitness is alive and well. But while it’s still a bog-down tired-fest, one thing is clear: Not there yet. But hey, it’s early in the year, and faster times come with the heat of the spring and summer. So I just keep on pedalin’.

Start out with a used bike? Uh, yes. Uh, no.

I came across a cyclist guy I’ve talked to in the past, Jim, while at the turnaround rest stop for my routine ride. We got to talking, as usual, and I mentioned a guy at work who wants to get into cycling. The guy asked me what kind of bike he should get. I told him to go to a bike shop and look at what’s available. Do a little research. Talk to the guys at the bike shop about what kind of riding he wants to do.

Jim said that at the advice of a friend a few years ago, he started off with a used mountain bike, a Cannondale. It worked out well for him, so he figures used is the way to go for someone starting out. I think new is the way to go. Jim said used is better if you know what you’re looking for in a frame and components. I countered that somebody starting out just wants something to ride that works for them right off the bat. They’re not likely to be at the stage where they’ll buy a frame they know is good, then trick it out with nice shifters and wheel sets. They just want a turnkey bike right now.

It also depends on the person. I remember a college guy asked me about buying a used bike, and I told him, yeah, it’ll be cheaper, but you might just be paying for a piece of junk. Better off going new. But he didn’t have much money, really didn’t care. If he could ride it, he was fine with it.

So new or used when buying a bike? Harder to get quality with used, but it’s do-able. New should give the quality you want, but it’ll cost more. So hey, whatever floats your boat.

Wheel sets, components, frames, oh my

Wheel sets are said to be the best way to improve your bike and that seems right to me. But wow, the prices for wheel sets go sky high, serving pro racers needs for speed, durability, etc. But for the weekend roadie, how good, or expensive I should say, does a wheel set need to be?

I bought my bike for $2K nearly six years ago and it came with a $300 wheel set. But when a back spoke broke when my heel poked into the moving rear wheel as I tried to avoid hitting a squirrel, I upgraded to a $700 wheel set on the advice of a bike mechanic. His opinion? $700 will get you a quality wheel set – much better than the $300 set – and he thought that’s pretty much all the quality an amateur roadie needs. So I’ve gone with that. But I know riders who have wheel sets costing $2K+ on their bikes. Sure they’re great wheels. But hey, these guys aren’t in the pro peloton, so I guess my thought is: Why pay so much more for a wheel set designed for pro riders with one hell of a lot more firepower in their legs than you? Seems a little like buying a Ferrari to go to the neighborhood grocery store and back. Really can’t go 120 mph on a neighborhood street with a 15 mph speed limit!

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then keep the rubber side down, ride safely and don’t forget: Have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson

Sometimes? A ride with harmonic convergence

Sometimes you get out on the bike and everything comes together. The weather’s sunny and warm, the air is dry, there’s no wind. And the legs have plenty of firepower.

That happened to me on a recent ride. I couldn’t remember the last time great conditions had converged so harmonically.

But it was on the ride back that things got even better. I was a few miles in to the last flat-terrained 14.5-mile split of my 51-mile ride when I got passed by a guy on a mountain bike. A mountain bike? I felt pretty good, so I cranked it up to catch his wheel.

This guy had a strong cadence going, at around 20-21 mph.Which was pretty impressive considering he was on an old gray Marin mountain bike. I figured there was no way he could stay at that pace for too long.

As I rode behind him, I saw he had the rough-hewn look of a rogue big wave surfer, or hardcore Harley rider. He didn’t wear a helmet, his arms and legs were thick and muscular. His tan was a deep bronze, a been-in-the-sun-and-wind-a-lot tan. He wore a gray cycling jersey with the words Elephant Rock on the back. He’d cut the short sleeves off his jersey, likely to give his big upper arms easier movement. His bike didn’t have any shocks on it, front or rear. He had a spare tube wrapped around the stem of his handlebars and a small pump attached to his bike frame. Looked like his tires were slicks. I couldn’t tell if the bike frame was steel or aluminum or what. But I’m sure it was a lot heavier then most road bikes, providing a lot more resistance to pedaling at a fast pace.

I drafted the guy for several miles and he hadn’t wavered from his 20 mph pace one bit. He just kept pedaling steady and hard, head down. So when we approached a bridge where there’s an extended upward pitch, I rode up next to him.

“Nice pace,” I called.

He turned and looked at me like he’d been distracted from a trance and nodded. “Yeah, it’s in the blood. I’m from Colorado.”

The guy had a mustache and wraparound shades, and easily looked fit enough to ride a mountain bike like a road bike.

“You a mountain biker?” I asked.

“Exclusively,” he said. After a few seconds, he added, “Except when I’m drunk.”

“Where in Colorado you from?”

“Boulder.”

“Ride a lot of trails there?”

“Just roads,” he said. “You ride a mountain bike?”

“Yes, but mostly road bike these days,” I said. “My mountain bike got stolen a few years ago. Now all I have is a junker.”

“Everybody rides fast here,” he said.

I fell back behind him and continued to draft. He kept his pace all the way to my turnoff. I said so long, and he rode on, banging out his pace with powerful pedaling.

I couldn’t believe that guy. Dude was a beast!

Tight schedule riding

Getting rides in before days of rain can be tough. I did it recently, doing 51-mile rides on consecutive days, while working seven hours each day. Since the rides are around three hours it combines for about a 10-hour ride/work day. One thing that can add speed to a ride done before going to work is the sense that you need to ride with a bit of urgency to get back in time. It’s just a mindset, but if you have it, it’ll add some punch to your cadence. It’s like the feeling that if you don’t bang it, you’ll be late and that mini-panicked mindset will keep the whip a-crackin’. It’s amazing how that can push aside any tiredness you may feel and give a nice crispness to the ride.

While having that “I’m a little late” mindset is good if you have to get back for work or something else, it’s still a good idea to allow yourself a little extra time on the ride just in case you get delayed by something time consuming, like a flat. I figure it works best to ride like you’re late, but still have enougn of a time cushion to allow for any unforeseen delays.

Back tire wear

Back tires take more punishment than front ones since they’re under more direct weight of the rider. Some riders will ride their rear tires until there’s rubber missing in some spots, revealing the rubber and nylon sub base of the tread. When they think it’s had enough, they’ll take it off and put the front tire on the back then put a new one on the front. I’ve got a pretty worn down back tire now, and I’m getting ready to replace it. But I’m just going with a new one on the back. The front one doesn’t have a whole lot of wear. Why? Only thing I can think of is that it means changing only one tire instead of two! Really don’t know that one way will result in more tire life than the other. So, I’ll stick with the easier change out of one tire.

Laser framed riding

A friend just gave me a red rear bike light that looks like it might be a nice thing to use for riding in traffic and/or at night. It shoots out red laser lines on each side of the bike, making a moving lane for the bike. The idea is to help drivers give the rider enough of a space buffer when passing them. I haven’t used it yet, but plan to do more nighttime commutes beginning this spring. I’ll try it out and pass along whether it seems to do a good job on night and traffic-heavy rides.

Til next time, remember to pull on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and don’t forget: Have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson

Bike computer addiction? It's real

One of the fun things about going on a ride with plenty of climbing is keeping track of how much altitude you gain on your Garmin or whatever bike computer you have. My cycling buddy John uses his phone to get his ride metrics but it doesn’t calculate climb footage. So when we planned to go on one of his favorite local climb rides he said he was looking forward to finding out from my Garmin just how much climbing is in the 40-mile ride. But as we took off, my Garmin gave a low battery reading, and sure enough, after less than a mile, it died. I don’t know how that happened, I usually unplug the thing from a charger after it hits 100% charged. Somehow, though, it didn’t get charged and so the only stat we really wanted from the ride that day, would remain a mystery. We figure its about 4K feet of climb, but hey, we want the official reading. I kicked myself for not having the Garmin road ready, but it was definitely some fluke, because that’s only happened once before in the years I’ve had the thing.

So we started in on the ride and I kept looking down at the Garmin to see a blank screen. Aaaargggh!

Talk about realizing how addicted I am to its metrics during the ride! Uh, how fast am I going? I peek down. Blank… Uh how far have we ridden? I look down. Blank. Ughh.. Pissed, I was! Not easy to let it go when you’re a stat addict!

But before long John and I pedaled hard up some nasty steep road, and deep breathing took my mind off the goofy Garmin obsession. Soon enough I realized, hey, this really isn’t the end of the world, just calm the hell down, get a grip, and ride, OK? Uhh….ok.

Really weird, though, to realize how much I love to know the stats of a ride during and after. I wonder if I’d miss it if I stopped having the Garmin on rides altogether. It kinda feels like a gut punch when something you use a lot, a routine, go-to thing, is suddenly gone or not functioning. It’s a little like the feeling of losing your smart phone. I did that once, and I literally was thrown into a queasy, stomach churning Shakey Jake for a few hours.

So now I’m definitely gonna make SURE the Garmin is fully charged before each ride. This, at least in theory, will eliminate the angst of a blank dead battery screen. Because, uh, that just plain sucks!

Finding gas in the tank

The day after the climbing ride I did a mainly flat ride just to rack up my miles for the week. Lactic acid was still in the legs so I didn’t have much firepower for an up tempo ride.

But on the last 16 or so miles of the ride, I got passed by another rider. I decided to pick up the pace and try to get on his wheel. I did so, and stayed with his 20 mph pace for a couple miles. It was great, I rode fast, but with the much lighter work load afforded by drafting. Before this guy passed me, another guy in a jersey with a yellow and blue Swedish flag on it has passed me going around 20. I didn’t have the energy to chase for his wheel and the dude just got smaller and small until I couldn’t see him anymore. When I drafted the second guy, I figured if we worked together we could catch Sweden guy. I felt rested and ready to go, though, so I passed the guy I drafted and hammered it hard. After awhile, I looked back and he wasn’t there. At that point I had a great pace going, the legs were warmed up and banging it. And lo and behold, off in the distance I saw Sweden guy’s yellow and blue jersey. He was still pretty far ahead, but I thought, what the hell, see if you can reel him in. It’s amazing how having a rabbit like that can really focus you. I just worked on keeping a 20-22 mph pace, trying not to think too much about whether I’d catch the dude or not. But as I checked occasionally, I could tell I was closing the gap on Sweden guy, who wasn’t pedaling at the pace he was earlier. The closer I got, the more surge I had in my legs, and right after a short dip and small incline, I rode past him.

But he got inspired to speed up and he wasn’t too far behind me. There were two miles left and I figured I’d just try to stay in front as long as I could. I expected him to rest and pass me back if he could. Right before the last straightaway, he rode up next to me and commented on what a nice day it was to ride. I agreed. Warm, not hot, slightly overcast. No wind.

“You from Sweden?” I asked.

“No, just have family there.”

“That’s where my family’s from.”

“Oh yeah, where?”

“Goteborg.”

“Oh yeah, my family lives in a town near there. Beautiful country.”

“Yes.”

“Except in the winter!”

I turned off the trail, and Midnight Sun dude did too, passing me as I slowed down to catch my breath. It was a great way to finish a ride, which for the first two thirds, was just an ordinary, long, tired-leg ride. But it was great to get out of the doldrums in the final miles by hooking into a couple of faster riders. The best part to me is when you ask your body to pick up the pace and bang it after a lot of fairly slow miles, and it does… it answers the call to haul! That, to me, is one of the best feelings in cycling! You go to the well, and find energy and pedal power you didn’t know you had.

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then, keep the rubber side down, ride safely and don’t forget: Have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson

Getting in touch with your inner animal

Sometimes, when I plan to go on a ride, thoughts come into my head arguing that I shouldn’t ride. It’s too cold, it’s too windy, not enough time, not enough sleep, don’t feel much energy, etc.

But I know I want to get in the pedal time, so it becomes a matter of not acting on those negative thoughts. I let them be, so they can fizzle out on their own. Yes, I hear all the arguments against getting out on the bike, but I just let them float on by as I channel my inner animal, which is all about silent movement of instinctive intent. I get the bike ready to go, get my snacks, put on my kit. My inner animal nudges me along with a subprogram of action over any words or thoughts. I just keep moving toward getting out on the ride. Because I know, deep down, that’s what I want to do.

This nonverbal inner animal activity is thought-free, like a meditation, a complete tune-in to the present moment. And before I know it I’m on the bike, and on the ride I wanted to go on, despite any real or imagined inconveniences my rational mind had peppered me with earlier.

If it’s cold, I dress in layers for it. If a big headwind is waiting, I just think of it as workout, like a long climb. If it starts to rain while on the ride, during which I didn’t expect rain due to the forecast I follow, I make a mental adjustment. I go from having an aversion to riding in the rain, to embracing it, accepting it as what’s happening, not fighting it.

Doing headwind riding, or getting caught in some unexpected rain, or having to navigate through crowds of people or long lines of cars, or ride a tightrope because of little or no bike lanes in traffic, can be tough to deal with on the bike, because they are nagging inconveniences. But with my inner animal front and center, I’m in nothing but survival mode, no thoughts, just emotion-free reactions to any challenging situations on the bike. My inner animal is an inside force that doesn't buy into pain and suffering when a long ride becomes a hellish test of endurance. The inner animal acknowledges the pain and suffering, but doesn’t visit or inhabit it. It abides, it keeps the engines running full speed ahead, like a machine that is impervious to pain. My inner animal tells me with confidence that I will do what needs to be done to finish out the ride.

This inner animal mental state has always worked for me. Of course, sometimes situations come up on the bike that stop the ride, because of a crash and/or injury, exhaustion or other conditions. But our inner animal will come to the fore if we just let it. It’s like a lifeline in a crisis. It gets us past any negative or limiting thoughts in our heads, and lets us go farther and faster than our rational minds thought were possible. So when the going gets tough, let your inner animal take over the controls. Maybe you already have. If so, you know how it finds you a path, and provides instinctive, confident moves through the rough stuff.

Just wondering…

I went on a 51-mile ride this week, the day after doing the same ride in strong headwind, tailwind, and side wind conditions. The first ride was a mixed bag. I rode slowly during the first half because I was pedaling right into the teeth of a strong north wind. But coming back, I had a tailwind, and had a pretty nice pace all the way. Overall, the ride wasn’t fast, more in the middle ground of speed.

But on the second day, conditions were better: No wind, sunny and cool air in the low to mid 50s. I never know how I’m going to ride until I’m out on the bike, but on the face of it, it looked like the favorable conditions of no wind and sunshine would help me ride faster the second day.

But no, I rode slower. Almost four minutes slower over 51 miles. I think it was because my legs were a bit dead after the ride the day before. Just didn’t have any energy in them all ride long. John, a riding buddy, was on the trail at the same time going the other way. We waved and caught up later with texts. He had a very fast day on the bike, dueling another rider and ending up with an 18.5 mph average speed over 28 miles. Now that’s banging it pretty hard. I told him my ride was a dead legged affair, not a lot of energy and no speed at all. After thinking about it, I wondered if John and I had ridden together if my dead legs would have shed their slogging ways and pumped up, since I have been motivated to keep up with John on rides with him. Riders feed off of each others’ energy and can get fired up just to keep up with a strong pace set by another rider. But alone, that just doesn't happen. If there’s no stimulus to up the pace, it’s impossible, at least for me, to crank it up alone for an extended period if my energy's down. Alone, I can do so for a bit, but not very long. I’ll have to ride with John when I have tired legs and find out if they can be pushed into a strong pace over the length of the ride – just from the influence of his uptempo pace. Sometimes when your legs are heavy, you can’t sustain an uptempo pace no matter how badly you want to. Other times they can break out of  heavy-legged doldrums just by being pushed into action by another fast rider. I guess the question is, when is leg fatigue just in your head, and something that can be overcome with an energizing stimulus, such as another fast rider?  I suspect that sometimes dead legs can be overcome, and sometimes not. Just depends on just how freakin' tired they are!

Til next time, remember to strap on a helmet every time you get on the bike. Then keep the rubber side down, ride safely, and don’t forget: Have a blast.

-- Mark Eric Larson