Dropped & Lost at Podunk Place and Boondock Blvd

I’m square dancing on a bike.  I swear I crossed route 125 and 132…twice.  Allemande left and dosado.  I remember the Marathon gas station a few miles from East Fork State Park on 125 having more trees around it and it being sort of a Pony Keg.  I’m officially lost and according to the GPS in my head, at least an hour and a half from home.  That’s an hour and half if I rode straight back on the shoulder-less 45mph posted speed limit Route 125 without getting hit by a speeding Amelia pickup truck driven by a texting hillbilly.  The only thing that really saved me was my internal compass telling me if I kept riding basically southwest, I’d eventually hit route 52 along the Ohio River.  Whether I’d be 18 miles from home at that point, or 10, was the question.  The other question was, "How do I get from this unmarked intersection to something recognizable?"

I didn’t bonk.  I lost contact, (which what bike racers say instead of I was too weak or not in shape enough to hang with the faster guys on the climb.)  At the point of detachment, as Andrew from Zephyr Wheel Sports rode past me, I could’ve just turned around.  I was only 3-4 miles from Batavia, the sprint point for Cincinnati’s traditional Sunday morning Hyde Park Ride.  From Batavia, home was less than an hour away.  Had I hung on the climb, home still would’ve been 2 hours away riding with the big boys.  Eh.  I can figure it out.  I wanted to get at least 3 hours in anyway.  Who cares if I’m riding solo?  I have an IPod, a granola bar, tube/air, a full water bottle and a clue.  I put my head down and pressed on, hoping that I’d make contact at a busy intersection or they’d wait for me.

There is no waiting on the Hyde Park Ride.  That’s what makes it a great ride.  You hang, or you don’t.  Even though I’ve known every butt that was riding away from me for at least 10 years, and the racey part of the ride was over, I didn’t expect them to wait.  Friends or not, the minute you roll out off Awakening’s coffee shop in Hyde Park Square at 10am you better be prepared to hang with the bunch and find your own way back if you don’t.  I’ve been here before.  At least this time there was no terrible headwind, it was warmer than 34 degrees, I recognized a few street signs and I could still feel my fingers and toes.

7-8 years ago, on a similar Wednesday night ride, I got dropped.  A buddy noticed and fell back to help me get back on.  It was Dave Stewart, not long ago he had won the 2002 24 Hours of Snowshoe Solo, just two years after Stamsted was our local hero.  I had only known Dave maybe 2 years; our friendship at the time was mostly on the bike.  Dave told me to dial back the heart rate, keep it steady and hopefully if there was a lull in the bunch, we’d latch back on.  A few miles down the road, contact. 

Dave is also the same guy that once said, "You only get faster by riding with faster people."  In a way he meant to seek out getting dropped.  Seek out getting dropped and lost.  Seek out getting dropped, lost and wondering if you might bonk before you find a convenience store.  Seek out riding so far over your head that you contemplate calling your spouse to come out and pick you up at the intersection of Podunk Place and Boondock Blvd.  One day you will hang and every bout of self depreciation will disappear.

The Manwich and 3 Other Reasons You Got Dropped

From time to time I get asked for cycling advice.  Being an expert at Radio Commercial Production, I am supremely qualified to offer opinions and guidance on all things cycling.  What more do you need?  Bike qualifications?  Well, I once jumped 23 Tonka trucks in my front yard.  What if I told you that the bunny hop was invented in my neighborhood?  It was.  In fact it was originally performed by this guy named Wambolt a few streets down from me in Menomonee Falls, WI.  Within weeks, everyone in our neighborhood was doing the Wambolt Hop.  I guess the name didn’t stick.  If you must press for credentials, I’ve worked at a bike shop.  However, don’t ask me to build a wheel or glue a tubular.  I’ve been riding bikes since I was a kid, built my first BMX bike from an old Schwinn.  As a 110 pound 8^th or 9^th grader, I circumnavigated Waukesha County WI on my first road bike, a Royce Union with a boombox blasting The Who strapped to the front rack.  I later took it apart, down the frame, and gave it the most hideous multi-colored splash-paint job you’ve ever seen.  I’m pretty sure I left it locked up outside when I graduated from a University of Wisconsin college and drove away to wonderful career in radio.  Later in the 90’s, when I first started racing I bought my first mountain bike, a yellow, made-in-Wisconsin splash-painted Trek 830.  Realizing the marketing genius of my splash paint job was precisely the moment I knew I had missed my calling and in fact was a cycling savant.

As a savant, I get questions on road cycling etiquette and how-to all the time, most of them stemming from a humbling experience where the poor soul was left sniveling and crying for mama between bouts of the pukes as their riding companions rode away to the great place where the sides of the road meet the horizon.  That said there are really only two reasons one gets dropped on a ride.  95.7% of the time you get dropped is because your either not strong enough, or did something stoopid…I mean, something that you shouldn’t have.  4.2% of the time, can actually be attributed to something else like someone crashing into you or making the smart choice to not chance darting out in front of a car to stick with the boneheads that did.  .1% of the time, you’re actually a pro that sacrificed themselves for the benefit of the team.

My gym teacher once said, “your friends won’t tell you, but I will…you stink.”  There’s two ways to stink at road cycling: either not being strong enough to ride with the bunch or just not being smart enough.  As far as strength, other than healing up, getting well, taking your allergy medicine, continually getting beat until one day you hang, or getting a coach and training...you’re on your own to HTFU.

For the rest of you that felt as if you were strong enough to “hang” with the bunch, but got dropped, obviously you did something, uh, you shouldn’t have.  If you don’t have the brawn, use your brain.  Most of the time cyclists get dropped because they put themselves in a position that could’ve been avoided.  The most common reasons I’ve seen people get dropped are as follows: Pulling The Ripcord, The Manwich, Shy Elbow Syndrome, and Cyclist Unawarus. 

PULLING THE RIP CORD

You pulled off the front just before or midway up a short roller climb.  Buh bye paratrooper.  This is the #1 reason I see people get dropped.  I’m talking about those little hills that are just tall enough to test your mettle holding the pace from the bottom to the top.  The root of the issue is that you either don’t have the legs to hold the pace to discourage others from coming around on the climb, knew you didn’t have the legs and waited too long to get off the front, or you knew you didn’t have the legs but didn’t anticipate that you would be the one that would end up on the front on the roller.  The main symptom is someone just as weak as you made it up the hill with the group. 

The truth is bikes go faster up hills, except for yours.  Know this.  The pace will get slightly harder on a hill.  It always does.  If it doesn’t, well at least you’re prepared.  You have two choices: either take a shorter pull and leave yourself room to latch onto the back BEFORE the group hits the hill.  Or, commit to grunting it out to the top fast enough to discourage people from attacking or coming around.  If you can't make that commitment, you should pull off and get to the back of the group before the climb.  Live by this rule.  The exception is the .1 percent of the time you're leading out a teammate for a KOM or a sprint, essentially sacrificing yourself. 

Avoiding getting dropped on this short hill starts a mile or more from the hill.  As a weaker rider in the bunch, you need to be smarter.  Position yourself in the paceline so you don’t end up on the front going into the hill.  You need to look ahead.  We all ride the same routes on group rides.  You know where the hills, stoplights and corners are.  You ride with the same people.  You know who’s strong.  You definitely know who’s not.  You know your bike is filled with lead.  You have all this information at your disposal.  So, make sure you’re safely tucked into the middle of the group when you get to the hill.  With the hill approaching, take a shorter pull or sit on the back to rearrange your position in the group, so you hit the hill in the middle of the group.  If you’re on the front approaching the hill, pull off leaving yourself enough time to get to the back and catch your breath before the hill. 

2)   THE MANWICH

Never, as a weaker rider, position yourself with the fastest rider in the bunch directly in front of you OR directly behind.  Avoid being the meat in the Manwich.  Instead, sandwich yourself between two riders that are only slightly stronger than you.  There’s always a hammerhead or two on every ride.  There’s always a bunch of mid-level riders in the bunch.  When one of the weaker riders is in a Manwich, directly behind or in front of one of the stronger riders, eventually the weaker rider is going to get dropped. It takes the most energy to ride on the front, it takes the 2^nd most energy to ride 2^nd wheel.  If Big Hoss Manwich is driving the front at 24mph with a heart rate of 80% and you, Skinny Legs, are behind going 24mph with a heart rate of 85%, what do you think will happen when Manwich has to dig a little deeper?  His heart rate may come close to 90%, and you, Skinny Legs, are going to hit 95% and blow.

Now imagine if Big Hoss Manwich is behind Skinny Legs.  Skinny Legs is taking a pull with their heart rate at 85%.  Skinny Legs pulls off and Big Hoss takes over.  Skinny Legs is now out in the wind by himself in the fall back lane.  Big Hoss Manwich unwittingly takes the pace up 1 or 2mph.  Skinny Legs is now left in the wind, trying to go even faster, and expending more energy than what it took just moments ago.  Goodbye Skinny Legs.

To avoid the Manwich, position yourself between two riders that are only slightly stronger than you in the paceline.  You can do this on a corner, at a stoplight, or by sitting on the back and pretending to blow your nose as you strategically wait for another wheel besides that of Big Hossman.

SHY ELBOW SYNDROME

You're staying on the front too long.  Realize that your pull at the front isn’t over till you get behind someone else.  Don't wait till you're tired, cross-eyed or drooling from all orifices to pull off the front.  You still need to ride hard until you get your draft back.  I usually say, the second you start to feel the lactic acid burn start in your legs, throw the elbow.  Sometimes that'll be a minute or two, 30 seconds, 10 seconds, or when you're traveling at warp speed, not even 1 second.  You need to save some guns (in a double paceline) to stay at the front in the fall back line till the rider behind you comes over in front of you or (if it's a single paceline) latch back onto the pack.  Do this, and you'll find you'll stick with the group longer and have more left in the tank for when it matters, like the end of the ride or the last hill.  Road riding is kind of about being selfish.  It’s tough for nice people to throw the elbow.

CYCLIST UNAWARUS

You’re not thinking ahead, way ahead, and anticipating changes in the paceline and the route.  While the Manwich refers to being more aware of who’s in front of and behind of you, and Pulling the Ripcord is about your position in the bunch going into a hill, Cyclist Unawarus has to do with being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Be aware of the route, the strengths of the riders around you, and where the optimal place in the bunch is for your survival.  If you know the pace is going to be crazy fast at a certain point, think ahead and position yourself so that you’re safely in the group at that point.  If you know the bunch is going to be strung out going through some tight corners, you don’t want to be dangling on the back through those corners.  If you’re headed into a descent, you don’t want to be behind brake monkey the whole way down.  If you’re headed into a long climb, be aware who’s in front of you.  Weaker riders will likely create a gap and cause you to lose contact with the leaders.  Keep an eye out for that gap.  Prepare to go around and close it up before it becomes insurmountable. 

Now, hopefully the only reason that you get dropped is that you just aren’t fast enough.

How To Drop An Attackus-Nonstickus With AAD

In some cycling circles this bone head move is know as a Break-a-lame.  Some go so far as to call these riders Wad Blowers, or the more PC “natural sprinter.” Nothing ruins a group ride faster than a dolt who shoots off the front of a strong paceline causing everyone to surge and chase, only to have said dolt sit up when others reach the dolt’s wheel.  This particular syndrome is known to the cycling community as AAD, Attack And Die.  Symptoms include half-wheeling, increased time spent riding alone, chest thumping, frequent looking over one’s shoulder, moving left after their “attack” is done and they are in the “die” mode, riding with their knees out while attacking with hands on the hoods, the inability to hold a respectable fast speed for more than 14.3 seconds without needing a 5 minute recovery and a Clif Bar, and an over-zealous appreciation of high speed coasting. 

Those with AAD also didn’t get enough attention from their mommies.  If they weren’t going off the front and sitting up on your group ride they’d be shouting “get in the hole” at televised golf tournaments.  I consultultated (a George Bush term) with The Global Center For Naming Everything With Latin Lingo and they have approved a whole new animal kingdom sounding term for this dufus, Attackus-Nonstickus.  Women aren’t immune from AAD.  On occasion I have witnessed the female of the Attackus-Nonstickus species go all AAD on a group.  It’s very rare and just as unimpressive.  The Attackus-Nonstickus doesn’t realize that there’s no glory in an attack unless you can stick it to the end of the ride, the sprint sign or the coffee shop.  To attack and not stick it is like a football player fumbling the ball on the goal line…a shameful wasted effort.

If you encounter an Attackus-Nonstickus, first of all never give a hard chase.  The Attackus-Nonstickus, much like a 7^th grader pulling the fire alarm at school, thrives on attention.  By standing up and ramping up the speed to quickly close the gap you just fuel the fire, the cycling equivalent of dialing 9-1-1.  You also risk dropping riders you enjoy riding with.  By maintaining a steady tempo and gradually reeling in the Attackus-Nonstickus you don’t give them undue attention.  The best catch of an Attackus-Nonstickus is not to simply reach their wheel, but to just keep rolling by them like they aren’t even there.  It’s easy because they usually end up on the left after their non-sticking attack.  Even better, during the chase, arrange the order of the paceline so the weakest rider of the group is the one who ends up making the catch and the pass.  That leaves an Attackus-Nonstickus thinking “what the?” in their head as ninety-pound Nancy rolls on by.  If this technique fails to quash the spirits of the Attackus-Nonstickus, your next option is to systematically drop them from the ride.  While it does sound mean spirited, it opens up a whole new world of fun to those “in” on the drop. 

To accomplish this, let the Attackus-Nonstickus off the front at least 3 times.  Each of those three times reel them in as stated above.  However, on the 4^th attack, preferably at the farthest point form where you started or in a bad part of town reel them in steadily.  Before you make the catch, let your co-riders know you’re going to drill it.  Say something sly like “get ready to go.”  When you make the catch sit on the wheel of the Attackus-Nonstickus just long enough for them to feel as if they have tired you out.  Count to three bananas.  Let out a big sigh to solidify your bluff.  Now!  Swing out wide-right to the shoulder and drill it!  Go hard enough to get a gap but not so hard as to lose the riders behind you.  Now dial it up to donkey wheezing speed.  Even if the Attackus-Nonstickus managed to see the move, they won’t be able to grab the last spot in the paceline before they know what hit ‘em.  Now YOU got to stick it.  Hold it hard for one minute followed by a steady pace higher than the original pace of the ride.  Don’t look back for the next five minutes.  Since the Attackus-Nonstickus will be tired from their four hard efforts, has no idea that attacks can go up the right side of the road, and can’t hold a fast speed for more than 14.3 seconds, you will never see them again…at least until next week’s group ride.  

Getting Dropped Is Not Falling Behind

A bee in the bra is crap sister.  Having a squirrel dive through your spokes or doing a ditch dive is a little higher on the suck-o-meter.  Day-to-day, as far as trying to be a better bike racer, the thing that really haunts the deep inner cycling sanctum of my race brain is getting dropped.  If you road race, I’m sure you feel the same way.  However, I’ve discovered that new riders, more specifically riders new to road racing, aren’t afraid of the drop.  I’m here to say, it may sound barbaric, unsocial and inhumane, but I think new cyclists with intents on road racing need to get popped, dropped, and left sniveling to find their way home with darkness and diving temperatures fast approaching. 

I’ve been racing/riding a long time.  It’s rare to get dropped anymore.  I attribute that to the theory that the incredible side-splitting puking agony of trying to hang onto a fast pack of riders is far better than riding completely bonked solo in the middle of nowhere and using the direction of the setting sun to find your way home.  Getting shot is better than getting burned.

I took one of those rare wicked shellackings Sunday on Cincinnati’s Hyde Park ride.  (9am from Awakenings Coffee Shop if you’re interested)  It was one of those spring training days where mitigating circumstances came into play, a combination of a hilly beatdown the day before, practically eating only meat the night before, 20mph crosswinds and the 6 strongest riders in the city showing up on a 12 person ride.  I got flat backed in the drops, skipped pulls and sucked wheel while drooling and huffing until I finally got waxed and was off the back wheezing like a donkey nearly 2 hours from home on unfamiliar roads.  Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one who popped so I had a companion for the headwind slog back home.  As much as it sucked, I needed that apocalyptic ass whooping to keep motivated, the ego in check and things in perspective. 

Not naming names or frames, I recently rode with someone new to road cycling/racing that has no fear of the drop whatsoever.  Nada.  I’m not sure they even know what getting dropped really is.  New cyclists call it falling behind.  But, getting dropped and falling behind are two different things.  Falling behind assumes that someone will be waiting for you or that you will eventually catch up, the usual etiquette on more social group rides.  Getting dropped is falling behind without a net, the usual etiquette in road racing.  Aside from getting a bee down your jersey and getting dropped, there’s not many things worse. 

It seems cyclists who are just getting into racing aren’t afraid of getting dropped.  It troubled me at first.  When I rode with the new rider/racer, one second they’d be with us, the next moment off the back.  No warning signs like donkey wheezing, a crumpled back, sagging head, dilated pupils, numb left arm, chest grabbing.  They seemingly decided that they didn’t want to go that fast, figuratively threw up their hands and fell behind, like they weren’t afraid of being dropped and expected that they’d catch up somehow or the group would wait.  Completely perplexing to me. 

Cyclists are a kind bunch.  That’s one of the great things about it.  There’s no shortage of vets willing to lend new racers wisdom, tools, a Clif Bar, a lower-back turbo-boost push back to the group or wait at the top of the climb.  However, you can tell newbies all about drafting, pacelines and sitting on, but there’s nothing like the fear of the drop to have it all make perfect sense.