Numbers everywhere! Coach adds some gadgets.
The little white watch and RPE was all I used to use before!
Speed. Cadence. Power. Power to weight ratio. Peak power output for five minutes. For twenty minutes. For sixty minutes. Average speed for forty kilometers. Number of reps you can crank out. Kilometers pedalled. Meters climbed. Hours in your biggest week. Hours available in the day. Daylight hours. Sunshine hours. Time gap to the nearest rival behind you. And to the one behind them. A whole heap of digits that inspire a grin when they go up.
The mighty SRM.
What (or watt!) is given can be taken away!
Down to the line at Coppermine
There are also those which inevitably divide the masses and opinion alike. Little figures that provoke debate over a beer or coffee at cycling geek haunts, trendy two wheel friendly cafes and bike shops all over the world. Best wheel size. Ideal bar width. Optimal millimeters of travel. Number of gears. XX1. 2x10. Singlespeed. Not to mention the mother of all digits. The one that countless races that got away and moments of lost traction are held liable for. Every mountain bikers Holy Grail, perfect tyre pressure.
Wheel size is a very serious matter
There is, of course, one more. It cropped up in the interview I had on Friday. Nice journalist man says, "It's a cool story. Do you mind me asking...how old are you?". I chuckle. Mainly to buy time. For the first time ever, I had to give it some thought. Just like those old people who forget their birthdays and how many they've had. In a moment's clarity I realise the answer is thirty-four.
How did that happen? I remember the thirty milestone. It heralded the idea of hanging up any hope and dreams of elite performance. Resigning myself to the "way past it" basket. Funny how things work out. I'd kick the twenty-something me's butt on a bike right now.
Ass kicking mode
Photo credit: Simon Watts/bwp.co.nz/bikeNZ
I reminisce about an article I read that was written by Ironman legend Cameron Brown. Forties are the new thirties, he says. I enjoy Rebecca Rusch's stance. The 43 year old powerhouse greets questions of age with laughter and acts of defiance on the bike. I watch Sabine Spitz and Gunn Rita Dahle-Flesjaa draw swords. Twenty years of racing experience. Each. Forty-two versus forty-one. Kicking arse at altitude on a brutally physical World Cup course. Proving that age really is just a number. Now, that's a figure I'll settle for.
0 comments:
Post a Comment