Perspectives on Speed

Perspectives on Speed:

(Speed as in d/t [distance over time] not as in chemical performance enhancement.)

My thoughts:

June 1, 2014:

Riding my bike to our niece's graduation party. Normal to Princeton, approximate 80 miles, 53 directly north, followed by about 25 west, with three nice climbs in for the final ten miles. I ride a route that I would never take with a group of riders: all state highways, with two miles of interstate thrown in for grins. Not conducive to safe group rides. Route 251 north from Kappa all the way to route 71 where I turn to the west for the rest of the ride. I've ridden this route several times, and it can be a bear with a north or northwest wind. This time I hit the wind jackpot (for the first fifty miles, anyway). Southwest wind at about 15mph and rising promised a fun trip north. For the first 53 miles I averaged over 23mph, including the roll out from my home, and all of the stop signs in the towns I rode through. (I come to at least a near-stop generally.)  

Unfortunately, that rising wind was now ready to put up a fight after allowing me a relaxing cruise north. If you ride with me much you know I'd rather fight a headwind than struggle with a strong crosswind. With a high headwind it's just a matter of gearing down and pushing through the pain, while a hard crosswind can be a never ending struggle to maintain a straight course in addition to propelling Maude and myself onward. By now the wind was up to about 20mph from the southwest so I was enjoying the best of both worlds, a headwind and a crosswind. While it hadn't seemed like I'd been pushing hard going north, my legs were no longer fresh and I was on my own to fight through this breeze. Challenge accepted. Some 8 miles into this section I stopped at a Huck's to replenish my now-empty bottles, and get a bit of caffeine and sugars in the form of a Coke. (Seriously? No 12 ounce cans? The smallest available was a 20 ounce bottle!) Ten minutes later I'm back in the saddle headed for the hilly section of my ride. The Coke was working its magic as I settled into a steady rhythm, feeling a bit stronger for the finish. A sweet descent down to the Illinois river bottom, a short jaunt on I-180 over the river and I'm in flood plains for a couple miles. Three short, but notable climbs, around a curve, and looming above me is the climb up the bluffs. 75 miles in, and I’m faced with ¾ mile of small ring pain. Cadence up, head down, 4 minutes of battling against gravity before the final flat 3 miles to my in-law’s.

So for the relaxing trek north I had averaged about 23mph, and then when battling the wind and later, the hills, I averaged about 18. Total ride average speed just a bit over 20mph. I think that is a personal best for this route, but obviously wind-aided. Overall, quite satisfied with the ride.

May 31, 2014

Tri-Shark, our local triathlon. I really love this event! Years ago I was invited to join a relay back at the old course at Moraine View. I had so much fun, met some crazy fun people, and keep coming back for another round... year after year.

This year I awoke on race day as the birds began their pre-dawn songs, and a glimmer of light slowly brightened the eastern sky. Quick shower, pull on my BCF kit, bowl of Cheerios, load the car, check the tires on the bike, tend to my morning *ahem* business, and I'm on my way to COMLARA, the county park that hosts Tri-Shark.

I park close to transition entrance, and wander around chatting with friends, wishing all good luck (although I honestly feel that preparation trumps luck any day), while patiently waiting for the 6:00 opening of transition. Transition gates open and I get in the queue for body marking. (For those of you wondering, triathlon participants have their race numbers marked on their arms and legs for easy identification by the race officials.) I find rack space to hang my bike and gear, and kill a few minutes before going out for a course pre-ride with a good friend and competitor. We ride the route at about 75% effort, and then wait...patiently...for...the...race...start. Although I've competed in this many times, I always find myself filled with pre-race nervous energy. I still have a half hour before the fun begins, and walk around talking to the competition, checking out other bikes, thinking that these guys and gals look pretty fit, am I really prepared to do battle with them? Too late to worry about that now, the race has begun and my swimmer is running out of the lake to hand off the timing chip.

We make the chip exchange and I'm running (shh, don't tell anyone) for the bike start line. On the way out I holler at one competitor, "You're going down!" Climbing on the bike I hit the start button on my Garmin, and I'm off. Pulling out of the park I find myself a second behind one of the local fast dudes. Awesome, if I can keep him close for a few miles I'll be having a good ride!

Out of the park now, onto open road and we're passing traffic, and I'm keeping the gap steady. But wait...what's this? I'm actually gaining slowly! That's it, I'm going for the pass. I increase my effort slightly, but not much...in a short race like this I run very close to my max, so there is not much in reserve. I inch my way in front of him, pull over, and wait and see how long I could hold him at bay. The answer to that came soon enough. About a mile further out on the course I hear the distinctive "woo woo woo" sound of a disc wheel being pushed to a rider's limit as my once friend, now nemesis, fought to regain his advantage. He edged his way in front of me, and I repeat my earlier thought...if I can keep him in sight for...and then I realize: I can ride on the same level with him. Here I am, duking it out with one of the local speed demons! I settle in ten meters behind, knowing that if I didn't get ahead of him before the hilly part of the course he'd leave me behind. (He is a bit lighter than I am, and hence climbs better.) With a couple of long flat miles ahead (one with a nagging, but not difficult headwind) I know this is my best shot. I inch past and check my heartrate as I settle in. Right at 172 beats per minute, just about the maximum I can maintain for a thirty minute effort, perfect. Not looking back now I focus on the road and riders ahead...the dozens and dozens of riders ahead. I'm spending most of my time now in the left side of my lane as I roll past one competitor after another, occasionally hitting the yellow line as I have to negotiate my way around others riding two abreast, all the while listening for that ominous disc wheel behind. I hit the hilly part of the course still ahead of my nemesis knowing that he will pass me back here...and there he goes. I know he climbs a bit better than I do, so I watch and wait patiently as he opens a lead on me. By the top of the final climb he's pulled fifty meters away from me with about two miles remaining, approximately five minutes of pain, sweat, and exhilarating fun. The number of racers ahead of us has dwindled to a scant handful, so I focus on him. Just over one mile to go, a hard right hand turn ahead and he's still thirty meters away. I take the corner at full speed, drifting wide into the empty oncoming lane, picking up a few precious meters. Through the winding curves I'm now riding full out, steadily pulling him in. The last turn into the park and still going hard on the narrow speed-bump filled road, now with some spectators lining both sides. Immediately behind him now, and he slows almost imperceptibly to loosen his shoes. I swing around him and cross the line just before him. End result: I beat a person I've never before beaten by 1.3 seconds!

Speed:

So by now you may be wondering, why is this essay titled "Perspectives on Speed." A brief explanation is in order. (At least, I hope it's brief!) While on the longer of the two described rides, I found myself focused on my speed, mentally calculating my average speed periodically (yes, I'm a nerd who does that.) When riding solo for longer distances I have to keep my mind occupied, lest I start singing to myself, or even worse, hold a conversation with those voices in my head. Neither of those options is appealing to me, so I watch the flowers as I pass, and mentally track my current and average velocities. Interestingly (or perhaps ironically), while on the more competitive ride, I never once considered my speed. If you'd asked me at any given time through the event what my speed was, I'd have absolutely no idea. Heart rate? Yes, I was well aware what my body was doing. Gear? Of course I know, 53-14. (Of course the gear will change frequently throughout the race.)

So, when engaged in a race, and speed is of the essence, I have no clue how fast I am going. But when on a more leisurely ride, and my speed is perhaps less important, I know exactly how fast (or slow, depending upon the situation) I am going, and what my average is at any given time. And perhaps even more ironically, I felt I was going faster on the ride to Princeton (avg 20.52) than my race at Tri-Shark (avg 24.22)!

Satisfaction:

So when, if ever, will I be completely satisfied with my performance on a race day? Training rides, casual rides, all of those rides serve a purpose, whether it’s to prepare for an upcoming event or just to put a big ol’ grin on my face. Speed is of secondary importance on those rides. But on race day, it seems regardless of how I fared, I’m not completely happy with my performance. I can find a whole list of mistakes and issues that held me back from my “optimum performance,” whatever that means. I should have been more aggressive in the corners, should have made that pass before the turn instead of after, spin faster on the climbs, focus on the race better, etc. I suppose there is always room for improvement, no matter how slight, so as long as I enter in competitive events I will always feel that pang of dissatisfaction. The only way to avoid it would be to quit doing those events, and I'm not prepared to hang up my race helmet just yet. Some day I suppose it will be inevitable, but for now I'll just have to expect to disappoint myself...sigh.