Slowing down

For most cyclists, the ultimate objective is greater speed, and this is overwhelmingly the metric by which most riding is judged. Sure, some people dabble with distance, elevation, and perhaps even the obscure ‘saddle time’ – the truly perverse stare intently at graphs depicting heartrate and power output – but ultimately, the goal for most is speed.

Having taking a sabbatical of sorts from riding over the cold winter months, I’m faced with the prospect of a lot of slow riding before I get going again. For quite a long time I’ve been able to chart progress in my riding, but like most, what I’ve really been focusing on is speed. The other bits have improved too, but the subconscious desire to simply go faster, at least when it comes to the dull business of looking at gps outputs and statistics, still remains.

So riding to my parent’s house this weekend on my improvised touring bike was a bit of a slap in the face. At the height of summer, I’ve been able to ride the 50-something mile route – which isn’t flat – in under 3 hours. It felt pretty good a lot of the time, having the confidence to scythe through the country lanes barely pausing to grab a snack from a jersey pocket, knowing the legs will carry you home. Clearly that kind of form has deserted me, since it doesn’t keep well in the fridge, or something. Riding a heavy steel bike with relatively fat tyres, and occasionally panniers is a new experience for me. It certainly doesn’t glide over the undulations like my road bike, and every gradient takes its toll. Those 50-something miles felt like 80-something.