The Recycled Cyclist

Weekly Essays on Cycling in Mid-Life and Its Many Dimensions

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Location: Massachusetts, United States

Friday, April 06, 2007

Reality

Early in the cycling season, perceptions can be deceiving. Nearly every year, I castigate myself over poor performance, shaming myself for what must be the obvious end product of lackluster winter/holidays training, sloppy nutritional planning, and inadequate commitment to my goals. I feel slow on the road, sluggish on climbs, and fatigued during longer than normal recovery times. After more reflection, I also begin to feel older, when I realize that my nutrition, training, and commitment have actually been adequate. Maybe I'm getting too old for this, I despair, and, if that's the case, then what?!

I was having one of these mini-meltdowns after a 30-mile ride early in the season, but while I was recording my stats in my homemade ride log, I found the time to compare this year's ride with rides of the same route at the same time of year in prior years. What I found surprised me, namely that I was actually riding the same route faster this year than in previous years, even with tougher headwinds. Aside from the relief I felt at this news, it also brought to mind the value of objective data during training, and how dunderheaded humans can be.

Basically, I don't think cyclists (or humans in general) are very good at assessing or recollecting reality, especially when it comes to purely sensory input. We are unreliable witnesses. We don't explain ourselves well. Collectively, we used to think the world was flat, the stars pinpricks in a cosmic sphere encircling the Earth, and the sun moved across the skies. These were all valid perceptions, but only objective measurements and mathematical proofs revealed the true nature of reality. As Robin Williams said early in his career, "Reality . . . what a concept."

Most of the pleasures of cycling are sensory and perceptual. Riding, testing yourself, feeling fit, and improving over time are all aspects of recreational cycling that feel good and make it worthwhile. But I've found that balancing these perceptual aspects with objective data is critical to really measuring improvement during a season and over multiple years. I may feel I'm slower and older, but the data show that I'm not, so I can reinterpret the sensations of early season sluggishness as just that, not a sweeping and fatalistic indictment of my advancing years.

On the bike, objective data can help a lot, too, push you to do more. Riding up a hill with a perceived effort that feels difficult, you may glance down at your speed and note that you are going well under the threshold you prefer, so you pick up the pace and hurt a little in order to meet objective standards. You can be fooled by your perceptions, and these can be corrected by real-time feedback.

The days of affordable power meters for recreational cyclists are on the horizon. Once these devices arrive and are widely adopted, objective data of greater utility and importance will be within most cyclists' grasp. No longer will we have to infer from speed, perceived effort, heart rate, or other proxy measures. We will have power output presented to us, front and center, and be able to strive to that. This is akin to the sailing vessels of old going from sextants and star charts to GPS in one fell swoop.

Doses of reality are crucial for any recreational cyclist determined to improve. Keeping my ride log current and accurate -- and keeping rides named consistently across time -- has provided insights that my memory could never have summoned forth on its own. I can remember events in more detail, see trends, and plan training more accurately. And that's a concept worth making a reality.

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