rapid cycler
06-09-2007, 03:14 PM
With time too short on weeknights to wedge in rides of any length, I've made my own little velodrome of two light-traffic blocks in my neighborhood that connect to form a horseshoe. I sprint up the slight incline block, then go easy on the decline. It's fine for maybe half an hour, then I need a little stimulation to keep me mentally engaged and alert.
One night this week I stumbled on the utterly fantastic and ridiculous idea of working on my victory gesture! Why on earth would a woman who doesn't race, and doesn't intend to start, need a victory salute? I dunno. I know I get nervous for the pro boys when I watch them do it on the TV; it would be so embarrassing to crash in the middle of a victory dance. I've never actually seen that happen, but the possibility is out there—and I have seen guys throw their arms in the air a bit prematurely and get sniped at the finish line. At any rate, I wanted to see how it felt to throw my arms in the air like I just don't care…on a bike.
I continued my sprints on the incline, but instead of loafing on the decline I started working on holding my line and maintaining enough speed to let go, a step that came easy enough, though when I say "let go," I'm really talking about keeping my hands poised just inches above the handlebars. (I was more worried about crashing the bike than crashing myself, and don't think it didn't occur to me that if a pro crashes a bike, he gets a new one handed to him without so much as a tsk.) Lap after lap I worked at sitting straight upright, inching my hands up a little more each time. I reached a point where I felt ready to actually lift my hands above chest level, but I kept either whimping out or aborting the mission because I spotted a neighbor and didn't need them questioning my mental fitness. Every time I aborted an attempt, I had to sprint another lap to come around to the testing ground again. In turn I ended up doing waaaay more laps than I otherwise would have.
Anyway, I finally managed to do it, and it felt really cool! And along the way I gained a lot of confidence in my balance and center of gravity, which I imagine will pay off on long rides in the form of less tension carried in my neck and shoulders. I was also pleased at how comfortable I became at sitting bolt-upright in my saddle and maintaining control with just a fingertip grasp of my handlebars—I've added a new stretch-and-destress position to my arsenal! So, while I don't see myself employing my victory gesture anytime soon—and it's really not all that impressive; no fist-pumping action or anything like that—I actually managed to learn valuable lessons and cultivate minor skills simply by acting stupid!
One night this week I stumbled on the utterly fantastic and ridiculous idea of working on my victory gesture! Why on earth would a woman who doesn't race, and doesn't intend to start, need a victory salute? I dunno. I know I get nervous for the pro boys when I watch them do it on the TV; it would be so embarrassing to crash in the middle of a victory dance. I've never actually seen that happen, but the possibility is out there—and I have seen guys throw their arms in the air a bit prematurely and get sniped at the finish line. At any rate, I wanted to see how it felt to throw my arms in the air like I just don't care…on a bike.
I continued my sprints on the incline, but instead of loafing on the decline I started working on holding my line and maintaining enough speed to let go, a step that came easy enough, though when I say "let go," I'm really talking about keeping my hands poised just inches above the handlebars. (I was more worried about crashing the bike than crashing myself, and don't think it didn't occur to me that if a pro crashes a bike, he gets a new one handed to him without so much as a tsk.) Lap after lap I worked at sitting straight upright, inching my hands up a little more each time. I reached a point where I felt ready to actually lift my hands above chest level, but I kept either whimping out or aborting the mission because I spotted a neighbor and didn't need them questioning my mental fitness. Every time I aborted an attempt, I had to sprint another lap to come around to the testing ground again. In turn I ended up doing waaaay more laps than I otherwise would have.
Anyway, I finally managed to do it, and it felt really cool! And along the way I gained a lot of confidence in my balance and center of gravity, which I imagine will pay off on long rides in the form of less tension carried in my neck and shoulders. I was also pleased at how comfortable I became at sitting bolt-upright in my saddle and maintaining control with just a fingertip grasp of my handlebars—I've added a new stretch-and-destress position to my arsenal! So, while I don't see myself employing my victory gesture anytime soon—and it's really not all that impressive; no fist-pumping action or anything like that—I actually managed to learn valuable lessons and cultivate minor skills simply by acting stupid!