The Cyclist

The chiselled guns of a Cyclist

Being away from the bike is agony. Even for the day, while I’m at work, my mind swims about, thinking about my next ride. I worry that I won’t be home early enough to get the ride in that I’d planned – or worse yet – ride at all. I agonize over my decision not to ride in the morning, or to work, hoping one missed day doesn’t turn into two doesn’t turn into a week.

I wonder at which bike I’ll choose; I can visualize them hanging there, in the workshop, quietly waiting to be set free from their prison – a bike is only free when it’s being ridden. I imagine they discuss among themselves which is entitled to be ridden next; they might even place wagers on which will be the lucky one. I’m not sure with what bicycles might place wagers, perhaps a bit of grease for a creaking quick-release that I haven’t noticed yet.

All day, I evaluate how my body feels. Sitting folded up at a desk is a horrible place to judge one’s weight; I’ll lean against the desk’s edge and wonder if there was less of me touching it yesterday. I’ll feel the muscles in my thighs as I cross my legs in a conference room, and judge whether they feel stronger than the day before. Sometimes I’ll feel for the fibers in my muscles with my fingertips and then realize that the other people in the room with me probably find it odd that I’m rubbing my legs absentmindedly. To be fair, I find it odd that they don’t know what it feels like to be in shape.

It is a mystery whether I’ll be strong on the bike today or not. At the office, there is no way to know how I will feel; I won’t really know until I put in a real effort, which usually happens on the first climb of the day. Strength is a strange thing; the other day I felt blocked during my warmup but hit the top corner of the first climb so fast I almost lost my front wheel. Almost losing your front wheel in a corner on a climb is a special feeling.

Tim Krabbé wrote, “Non-riders. The emptiness of those lives shocks me.” Indeed; we are Cyclists, the rest of the world merely rides a bike.

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.

Next Rule #55: Earn Your Turns »

Previous « In Memoriam: The Funny Bike

View Comments

chris says:

Sep 3 2015 at 5:59 am

@frank

@Phillip Mercer

I was at work the other day after having done my usual fast Friday group ride in the morning where my plans changed that after work I’d meet my wife at my parents’ place, triple the distance I’d normally commute home. I was excited. I looked forward to taking the route that I don’t take too often, thinking about how I was going to power up the rolling terrain and hold a decent average speed. My heart broke however when I got on the bike that afternoon and two k’s in I could feel my legs complaining about that morning’s effort. It wasn’t until 7k’s to go until they came back. I’m glad they came back but I missed them mid-ride.

The super ultra secret of Rule #5 is that you just keep fucking pushing and eventually your body will stop complaining and then you’ll fly. That is, right until the wheels really come off the bus and then you’re really truly, properly fucked.

The Velominipper and budding pedalwan rode the last Club Ten of the season last night. He came out of the last round about sprinting side by side with his minute man and two minute man (also twelve years old) but was losing ground on the faster of the other two. He sat down, got up and went again but you could see he was fucked and couldn't put any more in.

It was only later when he got his time that he'd knocked 39 seconds of his previous best and well over minute of his first attempt in June.
wiscot says:

Sep 3 2015 at 6:12 am

@chris

@frank

@Phillip Mercer

I was at work the other day after having done my usual fast Friday group ride in the morning where my plans changed that after work I’d meet my wife at my parents’ place, triple the distance I’d normally commute home. I was excited. I looked forward to taking the route that I don’t take too often, thinking about how I was going to power up the rolling terrain and hold a decent average speed. My heart broke however when I got on the bike that afternoon and two k’s in I could feel my legs complaining about that morning’s effort. It wasn’t until 7k’s to go until they came back. I’m glad they came back but I missed them mid-ride.

The super ultra secret of Rule #5 is that you just keep fucking pushing and eventually your body will stop complaining and then you’ll fly. That is, right until the wheels really come off the bus and then you’re really truly, properly fucked.

The Velominipper and budding pedalwan rode the last Club Ten of the season last night. He came out of the last round about sprinting side by side with his minute man and two minute man (also twelve years old) but was losing ground on the faster of the other two. He sat down, got up and went again but you could see he was fucked and couldn’t put any more in.

It was only later when he got his time that he’d knocked 39 seconds of his previous best and well over minute of his first attempt in June.

The boy done good as they say. Finishing a TT with the tank empty is the way to go. Give him my congrats on taking a minute off his first attempt time. I'm sure he can't wait for next season!
frank says:

Sep 3 2015 at 6:53 am

@Francesco

Actually Krabbè regrets to “non-racers”, I remember because I’m “just” a rider.

I actually dispute the popular translation. In Dutch, he writes, "Niet-renners". "Renner" is meant to be rider in this context, not necessarily a racer.
RobSandy says:

Sep 3 2015 at 7:08 am

@chris

The Velominipper and budding pedalwan rode the last Club Ten of the season last night. He came out of the last round about sprinting side by side with his minute man and two minute man (also twelve years old) but was losing ground on the faster of the other two. He sat down, got up and went again but you could see he was fucked and couldn’t put any more in.

It was only later when he got his time that he’d knocked 39 seconds of his previous best and well over minute of his first attempt in June.

Chapeau to him. I think a 10m TT should be a test of how well you're able to keep cranking the pedals around when you've got nothing. I struggle to push myself to the point of failure, even in training. Obviously in a race it'd be a disaster but I think you should get close to know just where the red line is.

Speaking of Velominis, when I arrived back at the Maindy Velodrome after the Cardiff Roubaix ride on the weekend (see @Teocalli and my posts in the Rides) it was to find my 4 year old hanging off the rails shouting 'Go faster Daddy!', and then going and bombing around the BMX track on his balance bike.

Then when we headed to the car I picked him up, and he looked at the track, then at me (caked in mud and obviously on my last legs) and said "when I am a big boy...I want to do that". He's one of us.
rfreese888 says:

Sep 3 2015 at 8:35 am

Who said what is most personal is most universal? I think this tunes right in to our inner OCD cycling daily lives. Love it!

Question: What does one actually feel for when inspecting the guns? should they feel harder or just less sore and more recovered?

There is defo a Pixar film in the gambling bikes in the workshop scene.

I can't imagine life without the feeling of suffering, joy and exhilaration that comes from being a cyclist.
chuckp says:

Sep 3 2015 at 9:42 am

I thought we all just surfed Velominati.com while we were at work.
Teocalli says:

Sep 3 2015 at 10:04 am

@chuckp

I thought we all just surfed Velominati.com while we were at work.

The days when I am on a customer site and can't are almost as bad as the days I can't ride.
Teocalli says:

Sep 3 2015 at 10:08 am

I imagine they discuss among themselves which is entitled to be ridden next; they might even place wagers on which will be the lucky one.

Surprised no one has picked up on this. I'm sure they do as after @ChrisO's "incident" in Jan his bike was in my garage with my collection. I swear all mine moved up to the end of the garage cowered by seat tube envy as @ChrisO's towered over mine.
SamV says:

Sep 3 2015 at 10:56 am

@rfreese888

Question: What does one actually feel for when inspecting the guns? should they feel harder or just less sore and more recovered?

My wife used to be a massage therapist. She's always badgering me on the state of my legs. If the muscles are happy (well stretched, massaged/rollered, properly looked after), they'll feel like raw meat - which is kind of obvious if you think about it. When your legs feel like overcooked steak to the touch, its time for some stretching, massage and/or foam rolling.

Basically they should be more pliable than not when pressed. If they actually feel hard to the touch in a relaxed position, you've got some self-care to attend to.
RobSandy says:

Sep 3 2015 at 11:07 am

@SamV

@rfreese888

Question: What does one actually feel for when inspecting the guns? should they feel harder or just less sore and more recovered?

Basically they should be more pliable than not when pressed. If they actually feel hard to the touch in a relaxed position, you’ve got some self-care to attend to.

You mean you don't spend most of the day flexing all the different muscles of your quads and touching them?