The gulf in class stream

As an added little incentive for me to look shit last night, British aspiring neo-pro Tao Geoghagen Hart unexpectedly turned up at my regular Tuesday night 10.  He's still only 20 and still looks like a child to mine eyes, TGH, but when he threw his leg over his bike, he was untouchable.  He completed his 10 in 20:42, which is the fastest time I've ever seen posted at Eastway.  He left some very competent and serious testers for dead.  No-one could live with him.

His strength and speed was doubly impressive - firstly because it appears to be summoned from nowhere.  He must weigh 10 stone sopping wet, this lad, and he has zero upper body definition.  He doesn't even have the barrel chest of most great time-trialists that presages a massive engine; secondly, when he came back to the signing-on room to hand his number in, he clearly hadn't been anywhere near his limit.  He'd been riding within himself.  His ordinary, however, was beyond the ken of anyone there to witness what he did.  

What's more, he's a climber; he's not even considered a strong tt-er among the rarefied ranks of the neo-pros.  He's very talented, clearly, even among his elite cohort, and has placed in some very prestigious amateur races, but that's no guarantee that he'll make the step up to full pro.  And if he does, will he have enough to make it into a UCI World Teams squad?  This is the highest division of pro-cycling teams.  And if he does that, will he make it into the grand tour squad?  And if he does that, will he make it to 'protected rider' status, or simply be a humble domestique?

This illustrates the quantum vide that exists between professional cyclists and the rest of us.  I could not have matched his average speed for the entire ten mile event (29mph) for a single mile.  My fastest speed, at the bottom of a fast descent, was only 30mph.  My average for the whole shebang was 22mph.  Now, admittedly, I could improve my times a lot by training properly, getting a time-trail bike and losing a stone, but I still wouldn't get near him.  He simply produces too much wattage.  And all the motivational babble and bullshit in the world turns to quivering shite in the face of cold, hard physics.  It would be like telling a motorbike rider on a 250cc machine to 'believe in himself' when racing against 900cc-equipped foes.  Belief, like flattery, gets you nowhere.  It's power-to-weight.

Anyway, the beauty and point of time-trialling is to race oneself.  Just as well really because I'm unlikely to catch any other bugger this season.

The need for speed

I need to go quicker.  It's a month into the time-trial season, and I'm not tearing up any shrubs.  I'm still a full minute slower than I was this time last year.  This despite the fact that I'm on a better and, you'd have to hope, faster machine.  Perhaps I'm over thinking it?  Perhaps I'm not?  Perhaps both?

Last night's attempt at cycling immortality was actually faster than the previous week's, but not by much.  Worse still was the fact that I felt like I was flying, and yet I still could not break the mythical 28 minute barrier.  I used to post 27 minute times at a canter and think very little of it.  What's happened in 12 months?  I'm probably lighter now than I was then.  Maybe I'm being too conservative.  Maybe I just need to give it the beans, as they say.  That said, I was shattered by the time I sprinted across the line last night - absolutely spent.  I don't believe I could have gone harder in the final 2 miles had someone pointed a blunderbuss at me.  I need, I think, to get angry, like Mr T.  I might black up next week, to spur myself on.  On second thoughts...

So, off training tonight.  I really should apply some science to my training, but it's turgid stuff, to be honest.  I'm not sure I could put myself through it.  What I do need to do is improve my VO2 max, which is about as much fun as it sounds, by the way.

Ho, hum...

Pain is just weakness leaving the body...via the legs

Good grief - last night's first time trial of the season was hard.  It was always going to be a test of will and sinew; I haven't raced for a year after all.  But the elements decided to chuck their oar in too.  It was blowing a hooley down the home straight - the longest stretch of the course.  It was such a stiff breeze that you felt like you were crawling, and consequently slightly overdid matters.  The cumulative effort required for this meant that the final two and a half laps were physically tortuous and conducted at brisk stroll velocities.  Disheartening.

I had the highest of hopes going into it too.  I'd prepared myself and my bike carefully.  I'd warmed up properly.  In spite of this, I finished a full minute slower than my lacklustre time from last year.  I thought I'd take a minute out of it, to be honest.  Still, I don't think I was the only disconsolate grown man in Lycra there last night.  I heard one of the other riders disputing his time.  He was, like me, incredulous that a ride that hurt so much could have been conducted so slowly.  Despite this, I did enjoy it.  It's good to be back among the faithful.

Yes, they're weirdos, but their my weirdos.