Riding a bike is as mental as it is physical. Okay. Okay. It's more physical, but if your brain doesn't think you can do it, guess what. Your legs will prove your brain right.
One gets a certain comfort out of riding the familiar. You know what to expect. Even if you don't like the next section because you know it's about to suck, you have prepared your brain that (a) it's going to suck, but (b) you've done this climb before and survived it. That level of confidence gets you through that climb or technical descent.
On the flip side of that equation, knowing what's coming can fill you with a sense of dread. Oh, crap, we're climbing XXX and I remember how hard it was and how I could barely breathe at the top and my legs were on fire and, and, and. Have no fear, my dears. If you are a consistent rider and not one who is coming back to the sport after a long hiatus, you don't remember the climb the way it was the last time you did it (when you were strong), you remember it the very first time you did it. Early in the season or early in your cycling life. When you were sucking wind because you hadn't yet reestablished your climbing legs. So the second time, a few weeks or months later, it won't suck nearly as badly as you remember.
Not to say that it won't suck. It will just suck less than you think.
And you'll go home, upload your ride and say to yourself, "Wow! I did that faster than last time!"
Last year, when I trained for the Death Ride for the first time, I rode on many many roads that I hadn't ridden on. Two of us were doing the training for the first time, and the other two were repeaters. We'd hear what was coming but it's never the same as actually riding it. Some hills I had done before, but maybe I hadn't done them after 90 miles. All season I had to hold something in reserve for what might be coming next, and continually prepare for the unknown.
When I trained for the AIDS Ride in 1999, I had no idea what I was getting into. I hadn't been south of Monterey / Big Sur except for a weekend trip to San Diego - a flyover trip. I'd lived in San Francisco since 1985 and never been to LA. I thought it was pretty cool that the first time I was going to Los Angeles, I was arriving by bicycle.
Not knowin' nuthin' I knew I'd continue to not know nuthin'. Something in my little brain told me that if I always rode routes that were familiar, my legs might be ready but my mind wouldn't be. I didn't read it in a book and Al Gore had barely invented the Interwebs back then. The whole darn ride - all seven days and 565 miles - was going to be unfamiliar. I sought different training rides to stay mentally fresh.
Fast forward to 2012. Training, training, blah blah blah - lots of blog entries about that already. (see left side bar). One of the best things about doing Death Ride training with Team in Training is the Altitude Camp that happens about a month before the ride. We camp just outside Markleeville and ride three of the passes (four if you get there early enough). Saturday morning, as we set out to tackle Ebbetts Pass, I was filled with dread. Here it was, a moment of truth. What if I wasn't ready? What if I had to stop? What if I simply couldn't make it all the way? The Altitude. The Unknown. I remembered driving it. It was a monster. This huge weighted black cloud clung to my psyche like the lead blanket at the dentist's.
Imagine all that anxiety if it were event day. I would have already climbed 6,000 feet on my way to climbing another 5,000 on the front and back side of Ebbetts before a slight break until Carson Pass. That's the advantage of Altitude Camp.
Fast forward again. The black and white newspaper spins on the TV screen and lands in the future. It is August in Mt. Shasta. It's hot. I'm with a group of riders from the Team and we're going to do the Mt. Shasta Summit Century. The 200K(+) has 16,500 feet of climbing. Most of us signed up for this, leaving our options open. The 100 miler has 10,000 feet of climbing. You've read about the corsets, the bear, the blue knee socks. I bring up Shasta again because nearly all of us riding together were first time Death Riders. This meant, of course, to put as dull an edge on the point as I can muster, that all season we rode unfamiliar roads and had to mentally prepare, accept and adjust to the unknown.
We didn't know what was coming and sometimes it just plain sucked. The scenery was divine. The first climb was fairly friendly and the climbs built in intensity. But here's what happened. The seasoned Death Riders who had spent all season riding routes they had ridden before had a much harder time mentally than the riders who had been constantly riding unfamiliar routes. Especially as the heat intensified and the climbs kept, well, climbing. Because their minds weren't trained in the same way.
It's easy to slip. Your body will seek the way of the least effort, the greatest efficiency. It's survival. It's why there are plateaus in strength training, in dieting, in cycling or running. If you always ride the same hill, your legs will get stronger. Absolutely. But you have to change the game to keep your mind engaged and to be mentally strong.
You need to try new routes and test yourself. To keep your brain fresh and find new obstacles to overcome. Even if it's as simple as riding the same old route in the opposite direction.
No comments:
Post a Comment