Dave always starts rides off at a higher pace than I do. I blame it on the few extra years that I have on him, and my body’s need to ease gently into the pace of the ride. Makes me feel better to think this is true. But I don’t really think it is. I’ll keep on thinking it though, and will ignore the fact that Dave is consistently more strong and fit than I am, because I’m sure that can’t have much to do with the fact that he seems always ready to crank it up to 75% effort or more at a moments notice.
On Saturday, we did a nice training ride – something just short of 100 miles with about 5k of climbing overall. As usual, he cranked it right up and was soon 300 yards ahead of me, seemingly oblivious to the growing distance between us. But unlike most mornings, the distance never seemed to close much. Oh, he’d pull over for a minute and wait for me at a light now and again, but as soon as the light turned green, he’d dance up the road and be off to the edge of site rapidly. Because this morning, Dave had new stuff on his bike. Heck, his whole bike was darned near brand-new with the exception of the frame!
It’s amazing how new bling on the bike will make a person feel strong and feisty. In this case, there was good cause for Dave to feel strong and feisty – he had upgraded all of the components on his bike from the “not quite bottom of the line but still super-cheap†grade to essentially DuraAce from front to back. The wheels weren’t DuraAce, but were still Bontrager RaceLites – a vast improvement over his old iron-clad wooden variety (maybe I exaggerate…) So with the same level of effort of a week ago, Dave was flying down the road at a significantly improved pace.
Now, the bikers among you are surely asking why I didn’t just grab Dave’s wheel at those points when he waited for me, and suck it down the road. Nice idea in theory, but it just doesn’t work that often. Dave, you see, is still working on the whole drafting concept. To those of us who are mere mortals, the idea of drafting is a neat little magic trick, allowing us to cover the same ground with about a third less effort. But to Dave, I think this feels a little like cheating or something. He just can’t seem to bring himself to lock into that draft and ride.
Now he’s perfectly fine with the idea of letting me (or anyone really) draft him. Go ahead – try it – I dare ya’. It’s a comedic routine running down the road, trying to stay on Dave’s wheel. Just when you find that sweet spot, he glances over his shoulder and sees you there, and thinks that he must be going to slow, because you’re right on his wheel. So he speeds up. And you try and stay on his wheel, and just when you think you’re going to be able to hang with him, he looks over his shoulder, and sees you again, and jumps up the pace another couple miles an hour (because you must want him to go faster or you wouldn’t be crowding him like that, right?)
I can usually hold on until that second round of acceleration, then Dave is just a rapidly diminishing flash somewhere up ahead of me. If you’re really strong, maybe you can hold on up to the third round. I’ve never seen anyone last much longer.
I’ve laughed at this routine unfolding in the past, and wondered just what it is that makes the drafting concept so hard for Dave. The concept of measuring the level of effort that it takes to pull and draft in a particular line, and just focusing on that level of effort as you rotate through, is one that I know Dave understands. But I’ve come to the conclusion that 2 things make it hard for Dave to execute. First, he’s just so much stronger than I am, (and it’s not as though I’m a fitness slouch myself), that it’s hard for him to crank it down and maintain the level of effort that is comfortable to me and that I can keep up over many hours. Second, I really do think that the whole concept of “this is cheating†plays into the equation to Dave’s highly overdeveloped sense of fairness. I could be way off, but that’s my story for now.
Bottom line – I rarely even try to stay on his wheel anymore – I just watch him fly on down the road somewhere ahead of me, knowing that he’ll stop now and then and wait for me to catch up. And of course, as the day wears on, his rocket runs up the road tend to slow down, and sometimes I’m even lulled into thinking that maybe I’m actually sort of keeping up with him. I think that the one tiny little advantage that I might have is my ability to endure hours in the saddle and measure out my effort to make it last a long time.
We’ll see if this little fantasy of mine holds true on our upcoming DANROPES ride. (Dave And Neil’s Ride Of Pain and Enduring Suffering) We’re going to ride across Colorado and Kansas this month, and I’m looking forward to learning how I can hold up to 100+ mile days one after another. It might be that Dave’s supernatural abilities extend beyond the ability to ride really fast and strong for 50 – 100 miles, and he also has supernatural stamina as the miles pile on in the hundreds. Or it might be that things equal out a bit between us.
Either way I’m good with it – I gave up a long time ago on trying to match his fitness and strength – he’ll either continue to wait for me on up the road, or we’ll ride closer together. But just in case, I’m shorting myself on space as I pack for this minimalist trip of ours, and will make sure that when we’re standing there ready to take off, and I don’t have enough space for all my stuff, I pack the tools and spare chain in Dave’s pack – along with a few chunks of good Colorado granite. Maybe if I can add an extra 15 pounds to his bike it’ll make up for those slick new components that he’s gotten…
