Categories: CogalsDefining MomentsExportLa Vie VelominatusMusings from the V-BunkerRiding Ugly

The Quitter

Warming up for an hour of suffering. Photo ChrissyOne

The truth is that I’d been thinking about quitting for the best part of forty-five minutes. Round and round I went on that track, every lap hurting a little bit more than the previous; every lap taking a little bit longer to complete, every lap that voice inside my head getting a little bit louder.

It might have been adrenaline or it might have been enthusiasm, but it was probably overconfidence in the belief that I could go full gas for an hour that had me tapping out a beautiful, seductive rhythm during those first few minutes of my effort at The Hour for Festum Prophetae. As those first laps ticked away, my focus was complete; I saw only the black line with the Sprinter’s lane and the Côte d’Azure framing my field of vision. The perpendicular lines where the slabs of concrete make up the track passed under me like ballasts on a train track. The effect was all-consuming as I felt my legs spinning smoothly and powerfully while my lungs processed litre upon litre of air.

It was just before turn three on an anonymous but early lap that the feeling swept over me. It was that unmistakable feeling when the shadow of fatigue sweeps by like a bird swooping overhead. I wasn’t tired yet, but the momentum had undeniably shifted; something intangible had changed that signalled the suffering that was about to come.

Over the next few laps my focus shifted from the ballasts to unconvincingly convincing myself that I was mistaken in sensing that harbinger of Fatigue Doom. Yet now I noticed the headwind, and I noticed how it seemed to slow me down much more than the tailwind sped me up. The fixed gear was a liability at this point; my muscles were weakening and there was no option to downshift for the headwind and upshift for the tailwind. It was all a cruel game against momentum. A game I sensed I was starting to lose.

It always seemed we would be gambling with the weather; rain had been forecast but the skies were beautiful and clear when I awoke. As I warmed up, the clouds were slowly creeping in. Just before I set off on the effort officially, @Owen announced that the rain was predicted to arrive 50 minutes into the effort. Rain on a velodrome is a dangerous thing; it reduces friction and causes a bicycle to slip from the banking, which will come as a surprise first to the rider and then to the audience.

I have a voice in my head that questions me. Incessantly. Like an annoyed parent, I have tried “grounding” this voice and taking away its iPad, but the little fucker is monumentally insubordinate, not to mention devious; just when I think I’ve got him locked up securely in the basement, it picks the lock and escapes again.

So there I was, for three-quarters of an hour with an escaped convict, my Questions Voice. When the rain started to fall, it started chatting about this being the perfect excuse to stop riding early. Still I kept on. I had put in something like 50 minutes already and I wanted to see The Hour out, irrespective of the suffering and the overwhelming desire to stop. Then both wheels slipped off the banking; first the back, then the front came down to join the party. Thankfully I was low on the track near the black line and it wasn’t a long enough trip to cause me to crash; but on the next time through the start/finish, my coach @Haldy yelled, “If you’re slipping, pull out.”

That was all I needed to hear. I wanted desperately to stop already, and I’d been thinking up a good excuse for ages. Having someone tell you to stop because it would be dangerous – irresponsible even – to continue is the perfect reason to give in.

So I stopped.

Before the bike had even come to a stop, I regretted it. Fifty minutes and change of comprehensive suffering, and all of it for nothing. Sixty minutes is the mark for The Hour, nothing less and nothing more. It is both its cruelty and its beauty.

I suffered, but I didn’t earn the satisfaction of knowing I suffered to complete a goal. I was already behind my goal pace, and quitting makes it easy to tell myself I could have made it anyway, that I would rally in the last 10 minutes to make it up. But I didn’t, and I wasn’t going to. I quit.

I will go back to the track in a few weeks’ time and do The Hour again. This time, with good weather. This time, I will finish what I started, however much I suffer again and however far behind my pace I am. Rule V.

Vive la Vie Velominatus.

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.

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View Comments

litvi says:

Jun 30 2016 at 4:06 pm

@The Real Hardman

If you didn’t bother checking the weather report before your hour attempt, you should at least own up to your mistake and ride until you crash out. Or just learn to handle your bike. There’s lots of bloviating on this site about the beauty of cycling, how every pedal stroke is a work of art, how suffering purifies the mind, how hard saddles please your prostate, blah blah blah, but when it’s time to actually HTFU and ride your bike you were woefully inadequate. Do better next time.

When it came time to HTFU and ride his bike, @frank did just that. The fatigue, the doubt, the hypnotic turns... They all set in. And when they persisted, so did he. You're right, "Real." There is a lot of bloviating on this site. And when it was time to criticize your peers you were woefully inadequate. Do better next time.
frank says:

Jun 30 2016 at 4:35 pm

@Oli

Bro, some days quitting is the only thing to do – we’re not savages, after all! Good on you for being brave enough to attempt this sort of suffering in the first place, it’s more than most of us are willing to do.

In the immortal words of our friend Lance Armstrong, some days you’re the hammer and some days you’re the nail – you’re definitely a hammer and I’m quite confident you’ll nail it next time!

Aren't those Gerraint's words? I thought Pharmy's quote was "pain is temporary; quitting lasts forever" - which is a fantastic quote, despite what a twunt he was/is.

@Barracuda

Starting is winning !

Oh, and I want that bike, well, not THAT bike obviously

Last time I checked, winning is winning, starting is starting. Getting second, however, is winning at losing.
frank says:

Jun 30 2016 at 4:37 pm

@The Real Hardman

You do realize the time/date was set months in advance in honor of Festum Prophetae, correct? That said, when the event isn't schedule for an international audience, certainly the time/date would be adjusted to account for the weather, as it will be when I do it again in a few weeks.
frank says:

Jun 30 2016 at 4:42 pm

@RobSandy

@piwakawaka

@RobSandy

Can we revise our Frank Hour VSP thing based on what I’ve calculated your goal distance was from timing you like a creepy cycle stalker?

yeah did I win?

and wear white socks next time….mutter mutter mutter

and why is track so hard @Haldy? @RobSandy?

No distance has been declared so I think the predictor was void. I’ll go for 38kms next time. If he does the decent thing and wears white socks.

I don’t ride a lot of proper track, i.e. on a track bike, but it’s something I’ve thought about a lot as I am about 5% slower in TT mode on the track than I am on the road, on the same bike etc. I think it’s something to do with momentum and inability to rest at all at the track without losing a lot of speed.

The track bike makes a huge difference - specifically the fixed wheel and gear. And there is something about the corners that seems to cause you to slow down. And the fact that the laps are measured and counted to calculate a distance, so if you ride a wider lap, you will sacrifice speed and time, as @Haldy pointed out to me...
frank says:

Jun 30 2016 at 4:57 pm

@imakecircles

You put in 50 good minutes of effort that your focus could be on learning from, before the conditions made it unsafe to continue. Perhaps you will start a touch slower the next time and be able to prolong the period before the fatigue sets in, then crush it in the finale as it does!

As the Prophet advises: start as fast as you can, and end as fast as you can. As for the middle, go as fast as you can.
frank says:

Jun 30 2016 at 4:59 pm

@nccyclist

At least you and bike look great.

If you can't go fast and look good, at least look good.
frank says:

Jun 30 2016 at 5:03 pm

@ChrissyOne

How many riders can say they did the Hour in 50 minutes? I think you’re looking at this all wrong. I bet you could even do it in less if you really put your mind to it.

You win the internet today.
Barracuda says:

Jun 30 2016 at 5:13 pm

@frank

It's a matter of perspective, with two small kids and a hectic family life, If I plan a ride and actually start it, Ive already won !
frank says:

Jun 30 2016 at 7:11 pm

@brett

@frank

Surely those long sleeves are slowing you down… and the bibs. Naked (except for the white socks obviously).

Might have been my fat ass slowing me down, too. Never know which it was, exactly.

@Dave

I ride hard and love it, but the actual competing I have done is running (not triathlon). In that sport the best times come from negative splits – second half of a race slightly faster than the first. You have to be fresh enough late in the event to go faster as the pain rises. V minutes into an hour event there should be absolutely no pain and doubt. At that point you should be feeling fresh and invincible.

Regardless of distance, every race includes 5K of real suffering – the last 5K. Everything before is just getting there efficiently. The hour on a bike is probably similar.

This is my favorite kind of internet advice. "I haven't actually done this, but here's how you should have done this."
GoldenGorilla says:

Jun 30 2016 at 9:39 pm

You'll never know how hard you can go until you crack. Man I've learned that lesson. Every time I do a 20 min FTP test and aim a wee bit too high. It sneaks up on you and then ka-blammo! The great thing about it is that body gets just a bit tougher each time we do something stupid to it.