It’s not about the bike, it’s about me.
September 30th, 2007Posted by David in Bikes & Equipment, The Ride
The Glacier’s Shadow
Part III – I finished the Glacier with time to spare, but the weight of my bike and my gear took its toll on my elapsed time. The weight I carry now is heavier still.
Sitting on top of the world. The Atlantis on Thompson Pass, Western Montana.
Like so many cyclists involved in randonneuring, I have been a sponge for information about how to configure the ultimate bike for a brevet. And, like the majority of newbies, I set out to do so by making changes to the bike I was riding at the time I discovered the sport.
I believed I was luckier than most on that count since I owned a Rivendell Atlantis. The Atlantis is widely considered one of the sturdiest touring frames on the planet. To its lugged-steel frame I bolted components that would stand-up to the abuse they would get on the back roads of Oregon and Washington. And just in case they failed, I carried spare parts and tools in bags front and rear. I was a boy scout as a kid and it showed.
My training program for the 2007 Glacier 1000 had me riding faster and finishing brevets earlier than I had in 2006. For the first time, the “first finishers” were in my line-of-sight. I noticed something about them that puzzled me. The fast guys were on racing bikes without fenders, even in the rain. They carried little more than they could wear. They found their food in mini-markets. It seemed the only extras they carried were clamp-on lights that would hardly illuminate a dark road. Their set-ups were a counterpoint to my own. I don’t ride with panniers, but I have enough luggage on board to be prepared for most major contingencies, which, after almost 11,000 miles in this sport, have never occurred.
On the second day of the Glacier 1000, I was tired and riding 5 miles an hour slower on average than I had on day one. It was somewhere near the Washington-Idaho border that I came to the conclusion that the price I paid for being prepared was a payload I may never need; the extra weight I carried was at least partially responsible for the fact that I was riding at 12 to 15 rather than 18 to 22. Ironically, the opportunity cost for being a boy scout on a brevet can equate to more hours in the saddle, fewer hours of sleep, and increased risk of a DNF as mind and body grow weary.
There is a lesson to be learned from every brevet, and the one I took from the Glacier 1000 was that I will have to travel lighter if I want to maximize my strength and physical fitness. But I wondered, how does a rider reduce total rolling weight without taking risks or sacrificing comfort? I spent the past few months since the Glacier thinking about this, talking to the fast guys, and experimenting on my own. I am by no means an expert on this subject, but as you look ahead to your 2008 season, I thought you might benefit from my observations:
- Ride a bicycle that was designed for brevets. Once you get used to the idea of riding 200 miles in a day, you begin to realize that a brevet is unlike any other type of cycling event. The ideal bicycle is one that has been conceived especially for this class of riding, beginning with the frame. Wheels, hubs, and tires are a close second, since they will affect rolling speed, ride quality, and overall weight.
- Keep the bike tuned during the ride. I have always done the majority of the mechanical work on my bikes, mostly because it would not be practical or economical to pay a professional to do my tinkering. Those skills proved valuable in randonneuring; I have never experienced a serious mechanical failure (can you hear me knocking on lugged-steel?). With that said, I admit that I do not pay much attention to my bike during a ride, unless it makes an odd noise or a problem arises. Glacier 1000 first-finisher Greg Paley believes that scanning the major moving parts at day-time controls, and a bow-to-stern inspection at the overnights, will translate to fewer parts and tools on the bike. In this way, all but the most catastrophic problems will be detected early, and solved more efficiently when riders, the support team, and the drop bag are within arm’s reach.
- Carry less. When you stop and think about it, the size of your payload is a function of the route and the weather. Terrain, altitude and miles are the features of the route that determine how long you will be on the road. And time on the road is the key determent of how much exposure you will have to the elements. You can carry less clothing if you are willing to be a bit colder in the morning. You can carry less food if you are willing to take your nourishment from a fuel like Hammer. Investing time studying the route will give you clues about what will be needed versus what would be nice.
Let it ride. I had been wrenching and riding this bike for six months in preparation for the Glacier 1000. The day had finally come and it was as ready as it was going to be. Photo by Nate Armbrust.
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Of the three considerations, it is this issue of the bicycle that I find most troubling. My Rivendell Atlantis has carried me over every mountain pass I have pointed it at. I have praised its strengths, I have railed about its weaknesses, mostly because it is hard to face the fact that I am asking this bike to perform in a way that its designers never intended.
A decision to move on – to build up a new bike on a frame that has been optimized for brevets – comes with an emotional and economic cost that I am not sure I am willing to pay right now. But that is why God created the off-season, so riders would have some downtime to reflect on the roads they’ve traveled, and what they want to experience on the road ahead.
Lance was right. This doesn’t have anything to do with the bike. It is about the rider and what he or she wants from the ride.
Miss an installment of The Glacier’s Shadow? Click here to read the Introduction, Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V
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6 Responses to
“It’s not about the bike, it’s about me.”
Another Glacier Rider
September 30th, 2007 at 10:52 pmThe fast guys aren’t fast because of their bikes or their gear. Ken Bonner rides what looks like a tank, but he flew past Mike B. and me on a steep climb on the first day of Glacier. Del often rides a racing bike.On last year’s 400K I rode my ‘racing bike’, with a 5″ drop from the seat to the bars, and nothing but a couple spare tubes. This year I rode my “slow” touring bike. My 400K time this year was about 3 hours faster.
My observation is that the primary difference between the fast guys and the slow guys is time spent at controls. An extra 15 minutes every couple hours is equivalent to slowing down from 20mph to 17.5mph. *That* adds up.
Kronda
October 1st, 2007 at 10:01 amSo what does a frame that’s ‘optimized’ for a brevet entail?
Just curious.
__________
Just about everything from tubing material, diameter, length and taper and braze-ons for racks, lights, and what-not; and of course the geometries at critical points like the fork (rake and trail), and the head tube and seat-tube angles.Velo Orange has apparently nailed it.Check the summary here and inside the full-length version of Bicycle Quarterly/print edition.
dr
Jason Gilman
October 3rd, 2007 at 11:46 amThis may be a silly question David, but do you carry your full brevet gear load when you’re training and riding outside the events? If you’re exceeding the load you typically ride with on a daily basis when you participate in a brevet it seems like that would take an added toll as the miles pile up.
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That’s not a silly question, Jason. Your point about the additive effect is worth pondering.
I do not train with a multi-day load, though I know riders who do so. I do carry enough in the front bag to support whatever food and clothing requirements I might have, but not more than that. I am convinced that increasing one’s rolling speed is not done by laying down more miles with more weight. I think it is done with speed intervals, of 8-10 minutes in duration, repeated 3-5 times, within a 60-90 minute workout.
beth h
October 5th, 2007 at 10:05 pmDavid — this is an important topic, one that I’ve wrestled with since my big ride in August. I began riding brevets populaires this season to prepare for a big charity ride (which I completed in August). Looking back and looking ahead, it’s clear that I need to ride a lighter bike next year. Not a LOT lighter, but just packed lighter and more intelligently. What each person needs to carry to feel secure on a long unsupported ride will vary greatly between riders.
I rode with a loaded handlebar bag (filled with food, emergency items and meds) on my bike on my weekend “training” rides, to simulate how the bike would feel during my big ride and durng the four populaires I rode this year. While that approach slowed me down, it also helped me learn a lot and feel more comfortable on my bike when the Big Ride came. I know that next year I will likely carry a little less.
I greatly appreciate your technical examinations.
Keep ‘em coming, please!
paul kramer
October 6th, 2007 at 4:11 pmMy depression still hasn’t abated since I bailed PBP after 325 miles. The most resounding “what if” I took away was precisely what you’re discussing. Would I have gone faster, therefore slept more, therefore gone further, if I hadn’t taken that second extra tube? That tiny vial of super glue (what was I thinking)? That polypropalene jersey I never wore (I’m not sure I even remembered I had it)? Those eight packs of Gu?
If we finish successfully, we think the decisions we made were the correct ones. But it always could have gone the other way: You can spend more time changing spares than the time you gained riding lighter tubes/tires with less rolling resistance. It all comes down to the glass you didn’t see.
Some leave-behinds are no-brainers: You don’t need a tent. But when it comes down to “one water bottle or two?” I think the time spent considering the pros and cons would be better spent doing intervals. Then, the morning of the ride, flip a coin. (My two cents)
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Thanks, Paul. So sorry about your PBP experience. I am sure you will use it to your benefit in the long haul.
I wrote an earlier piece about the Glacier 1000, titled, “Why I am not riding Paris Brest Paris.” While I would agree that building power and endurance through training is key to increasing your speed on brevets, the bigger driver of finishing or not (to me) is what is going on in your head. To finish any ride – even a tough 200K – one has to be committed to finishing. If there is any part of our mind that is not committed, when the going gets tough, we tend to give that thought a voice, and it can grow louder, until we bail out. I qualified for PBP but didn’t make the trip because I just didn’t feel enough emotional connection with it, compared to the Glacier.To be really successful in the sport, we each have to find our own PBP, and it is not always in France.
dr
Jon Muellner
October 21st, 2007 at 11:07 pmI have chosen not to ride a number of events because my head wasn’t in it. My only DNF (2006 Cascade 1200) was only due to letting my thoughts about my recent ITB injury overcome my desire to finish. Was that smart? Well, it saved me for eventually finishing my 1000 km and getting my R5000 medal, so that made it worthwhile. I hated to see a DNF after all these years, but it just reinforced my resolve for only starting events that I plan on finishing. I agree, you have to be committed before anything else.