It requires a combination of factors to intersect. You need to have already spent loads of time on a bicycle. Enough so that you have an inherent sense of this odd thing with two wheels; you can make it go quickly or slowly, you can steer it around a corner with ease, you know how the introduction of a layer of moisture between the tires and the tarmac might affect the way it does these things.
There can’t be too clear a boundary between the bicycle and your body; those lines are best when blurred a bit. Hands to bars, feet to pedals, badonkadonk to saddle – these are contact points but they extend into the body to form a cohesive unit of rider and machine.
You need to know the difference between being out of shape, overweight, under-fed or hydrated, or simply being tired; these things have different implications and you must know how to manage them. You need to have met the Man with the Hammer enough times that you can feel him standing alongside you some time before his hammer hits. You need to know which actions bring him near, and you need to know which actions may stave him off.
These are all things that must be learned through many years spent in the saddle and cannot be gleaned from a book; this is a path you must walk yourself.
It also needs to be a long day out on the bike. Long enough that you’re tired with some distance yet to go; past the halfway point in the ride, but not so close to the end that you distract yourself with thoughts of finishing. There can only be the moment, nothing more. The legs need to be heavy from hours of effort but still strong. The pressure in the chest firm as the rhythm of your breathing is contant but not overly labored. The heart has to be pumping hard but not on its limit.
You have to be on the right kind of road to support a sustained, constant effort. Not too twisty, not too undulating. Not too scenic as scenery tends to be a distraction. Perhaps it is misty, humid. The air through which you ride wraps around you like a blanket.
You don’t have to be particularly strong that day, or fast, or in particularly good shape; you just need the right amounts of the right elements. As the legs start to go round, they draw you into a kind of hypnosis. The sight of the front wheel guiding you in the bottom of your periphery adds to the effect. Slowly, your senses turn inward, like falling asleep except that with every turn of the pedals, your focus grows more intense. You see everything and you see nothing. You see the road and you see obstacles, but acknowledgement of these things is reserved for critical items only. Only those things that require attention will be given it; the rest is reserved for turning the pedals.
The blanket you wrapped yourself in gets pulled up over your head, over your ears, nearly to your eyes. Darkness is everywhere except directly in front of you, the tunnel guiding you along. You hear nothing but the whirring of your tires, perhaps the changing of gear. The Man with the Hammer wanders close; you feel him. But La Volupte has graced you as well and she distracts him to stave off his hammer for a bit longer.
His killer blow will come, but not yet.
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@napolinige
Its because you're paying attention in the car!
@Oli
Right you are! That's a tricksie little word. Even sitting there with the definitions in front of me after you pointed it out, I struggled to work out which word was right.
@frank
"... I find myself just sitting there."
Quite. Until suddenly there's more wind in my face - wake up, do the obligatory pull, rotate back and once safely on, go back into the trance.
@The Oracle
Its La Volupte-ish, too, in the sense that a noise will pull you out of it. As @Scaler911 already pointed out, this happened on our ride Saturday, and for me the spell was broken as we started to go downhill and I pushed the Go Button to go mo'fasta as the speed increased as a consequence. Push, nothing. Push again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. That's weird. Downshift. Yes, shifter working. Push. Gear changes. Not stuck. Works. Push again. Nothing. Oh, I'm already in the biggest gear. By the time I worked it out, I was out of the tunnel and back with the living.
The tunnel isn't has effortless or harmonious as La Volupte, but its similar. Its close. She's just off seducing the Man with the Hammer instead of you. Which is almost the same thing because at least that means he's not smacking you.
@Nate
Wow, talk about high praise. Thanks mate.
@frank
Yes. But there you (and the "others") were. That place is a rare thing. I was aware of what I was trying to do at first, but then it just became rhythm. Not really pain, I knew y'all were behind me but didn't think about it. It's one of my favorite things that happens when riding.
@frank
However, we now know you are very open to suggestions while in this state - like someone under hypnosis. I rode up, yelled all sorts crap at you regarding your lovely VMH transporting my shoes to the end-point later, and it all miraculously happened.
Brilliant, simply brilliant... I must remember this for future rides... "FRANK! Don't forget to give me that Cervelo frame after the ride!"
@frank haha! I know what you mean...it's misused so often to poor effect it's almost not worth pointing it out any more, but I knew you wouldn't mind as it wouldn't affect the tone of the article.
So v true - i often wonder if the legs we not linked ot the head if they would just go on spinning for ever ....its the hammer in your mind that causes most of the grief haha! ...but every so often, the legs really do....die.....
Wow. Wonderful stuff. I come here and read these things and am inspired and even awed. I lurk here, feeling I have nothing much to add, just soaking things up. Just a neophyte rider at 54, I'm finding the beauty of the road through the shared experiences here, as well as my own.
Additionally, I love the way you guys chap each others asses.....
@VeloAU
Oh. And die they did. Not so sure my left hamstring is still connected to my ass.