fast brad

Training at the Valley Preferred Cycling Center, photo: Anthony Skorochod at CyclingCaptured.com

A few weeks ago I dusted off the track bike and headed over to the velodrome for the first track session of the season. Actually, it was the first time on the fixed gear since the final race of last season.

I was feeling pretty good rolling around warming up with the group—I’m training with a group now—for 30 laps, pace-lining in the center of the track. As the laps ticked off the tempo gradually increased. With 10 laps to go, the paceline dropped to the bottom of the rack and the laps pass by quicker—pulls at the front shorten to half a lap. On the last lap it becomes a dash to the line as the group splinters and spreads across the track.

This group training is new to me, or training is new to me—at least since I got back on the bike a few years ago. I’ve just been kind of rolling into the season on a good winter base and racing myself into shape. This has been an enjoyable process, it allows me to do the rides I want when I want. The problem with the process is that the results can be hit or miss. And when they hit, or miss, it’s difficult to know what to attribute them too. Basically it’s not effective when you have goals you want to meet—I do, I’ve consitantly missed them, and I know it’s my own damn fault.

This year I’m actually training—not just riding—in pursuit of my goals. Gibby Hatton and Bobby Livingston train some of the fastst kids (should I say young adults?) around, the ones who routinely kick my ass, and they train together as a group. So, now I’ve joined the group to see what they’ve been doing, and to make the “training” easier.

There was a time, years ago now, that I was on “the plan”. Every day was mapped out more or less. If it was an easy day, you had to go easy. On hard days you had to go hard, and that usually meant a specific workout of intervals, repeats, TTs or whatever. Most of this time was spent alone, unless you were lucky enough to have a similarly minded—and skilled—training partner.

This, to me, is actually the hardest part about racing. Doing the right things on the right days, day in, day out, making the tough decisions; not to ride with your friends for 4 hours of fun in the sun on the easy day; to go despite the cold rain instead of staying warm and dry in front of the tv; not to have (another) doughnut from the local bakery; and on and on…

Winning is easy—or at least a possibility—once you’ve made all the right decisions and the hardest part is behind you. Yes, you still have to deliver the goods on race day. Yes, the effort will be hard, but you’ll be prepared for it. It is just another hour or two, right? Yes, there is the tactical aspect of racing as well as luck, but make too many wrong decisions and you won’t be able to take advantage of either.

Sometimes I feel like I enjoy cycling is too much to make the right decisions. I’m like a kid in a candy shop and I want to do it all, I don’t want to miss one great ride. This past weekend I trianed with the group on the track for two and a half hours—friends spent 10 hours riding 103 miles, stopping for beer, ice cream, doughnuts and more beer. I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy the training, or that I didn’t want to do it… it’s just that this is the hard part.

It’s been raining for two days now, so I’m off to intervals on the trainer, alone, hoping enough of the “right” decisions will pay off this season.