Over the years I've experimented with many ways to `perform well' on a recumbent in the mountains. Climb well, navigate fast descending switchbacks, controlled and fast descents on the straightaways. Wind.
Although front wheel drive movable bottom bracket recumbents can do well on the flats (if the rider can master the push-pull by pedal force against steering) I found that they are not suited to my terrain.
I spent 2015 customizing the seat and the steering so that the recline was less than 4%. While I gained `aero' I gave up power. This does not, axiomatically, mean that there is an inverse relation between power and aero. In 2014 Matthias Konig set a new Adult Male World Recumbent Racing Association record in the Non Faired Class by riding 100 miles in 3:26:54. Average speed 28.999. He is clearly at a sub 4% recline.
There is a great advantage to having a very, very high gear when descending long distances. The more teeth in the biggest front ring the longer it will take you to `spin out' and just coast. That advantage turns into a severe disadvantage on the flats and climbs.
My training bike (Bacchetta Ti Aero) used to have a 55/42 front ring and 11/32 ten speed rear setup. Even at the 42/32 combination I found myself `grinding' up hills.
Recently I changed out the front rings to a traditional `double' of 50/34. That was a big help but it still had me `grinding.' Over the weekend I installed a new SRAM PG-1070 rear cassette: 11/36 ten speed.
I seem to have stumbled upon the perfect combination: 50 upfront and 36 in back. `Sweet Spot.' I can climb a 7% extended grade at 6 mph at a 65 - 70 rpm cadence without feeling a `grind.' Plenty left over for short accelerations, upshifting for overtaking another cyclist.
THIS is yesterdays 25 mile, 2,118 ft of climbing training ride.
I'm really looking forward to more training on the hills.
I rode the Planet Ultra Zion Gran Fondo in Utah yesterday. My primary purpose in this event was to assess the characteristics of the road (chip seal) and general terrain in preparation for the Hoodoo 300 in August.
The Planet Ultra folks put on a very well supported and well routed event. I plan to do more of their events this year. As usual, I was the only recumbent cyclist. As well as the oldest rider. In all respects it was a worthwhile experience. Good road quality. Terrain (climbing, i.e.) not a problem. Though I'll make some gearing changes for the Hoodoo 300 I was more than well prepared on the Bacchetta Ti Aero with the double (50/34) up front and ten speed cassette (11/32) in back. Fortunately no flat tire(s). Michelin ProRace 3s with a tire liner. I will likely use both the Bacchetta Ti Aero and Bacchetta CA2 in the August event. Gearing on the CA2 will be 58/42 up front with a ten speed 11/36 in back. The bigger chain ring setup in the front will allow faster descents before I `spin out' (around 120 rpm). Tiller, R2C levers and Kent Polk Railgun seat on both.
This is one of my favorite descents into the city of Prescott on the White Spars. Great road, minimal traffic, turns and speed. Descent to Prescott
Going south on the White Spars from mile post 298 to just past Wilhoit. Very twisty and fast. I was still early in learning how to operate the Garmin VIRB XE camera. Descent south from MP 28
I've spared you any videos of me ascending the hills out here. Watching paint dry would be more exciting.
On my latest cycling I've ridden the Bacchetta Ti Aero:
Yesterday I travelled south about 70 miles to train on relatively flat terrain. The training plan called for the following:
heat acclimatization
increased time cycling
aerobic training
While I achieved these goals I noted the effect of `ramping up' into challenging physical demands. 56 Miles on Vulture Mine Road
I started the training ride at 11AM so as to experience early to mid-afternoon desert heat. I was not disappointed. The course was a 56 mile out and back, with the out leg of 28 miles of descent and a return of 28 miles of modest climbing (1 - 3% grades). The temps were in the late 90's and early 100's on the way back.
A few things I `relearned' along the way:
I should have had something to eat before I started;
Bring more water;
Don't lay the bike down with the water bottle bite valve `open.' 3/4 of the water just drained out;
Just as you find an out of the way private place to take a dump expect a train of four-person ATVs to drive right past you, gawking
Make sure the spare tubes have a valve that is long enough to accommodate the wheel rim.
Though I had planned to ride about 75 miles it was safe and prudent to just do one out and back (56 miles). The heat was harsh. I didn't have enough water. I didn't eat enough. I got a flat tire and used one of two spare tubes. The other spare tube had a valve that was too short (32mm instead of 48).
When I got back to the car I was a bit wobbly. Heat and dehydration.
That's what happens when you train. You find out what you do right and what you do wrong.
I
was driving with a friend recently and telling him about some projects
that really excited me. I mentioned a new book I’m working on, an
article I’m writing and this new hobby of adventure motorcycling in the
desert.
He interrupted me and said, “How do you stay so motivated and so excited about things?”
It
caught me off guard. I hadn’t really considered the “why” behind my
list of activities. But as I thought about it, I realized that the one
aspect each of these projects had to make me so motivated — the common
thread — was the feeling of being in just a little over my head. In
other words, doing things despite the fact that, as the marketing guru
Seth Godin likes to say, “this might not work.”
Now,
that may sound a little bit counterintuitive. It’s easy to wonder how
doing stuff that makes you uncomfortable, and might not even work, is a
source of motivation.
I’ve
been thinking a lot about this paradox, and I could not get my friend’s
question out of my head. I wondered whether I’m wired differently. But
there’s something about a sink-or-swim environment that excites me.
I posted on Instagram about constantly getting in a little over my head, and my friend Dallas Hartwig
told me about this concept called HORMESIS, a phenomenon by which
something that could significantly impair or even kill you in high doses
can make you stronger in low doses. Or as the National Institutes of Health puts it,
“In the fields of biology and medicine, hormesis is defined as an
adaptive response of cells and organisms to a moderate (usually
intermittent) stress.”
Of
course, I thought. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It’s not a
new concept. It’s well documented that the way to grow muscle is to rip
the muscle tissue, and then give it time to regrow. You give it stress,
then rest, and it comes back on the other side stronger than it was
before.
So what if we did the same thing in other areas of our lives? In our work, in our family life or in our recreational activities?
It
makes sense that the business equivalent of building muscle is trying
new things. When you throw yourself into the deep end of something new,
you often face a steep learning curve. That forces you to grow, adapt,
change and develop your skill set. It’s almost irrelevant if the
particular project ends up succeeding. The very act of taking on
something new helps you become better at your work over all.
You
cannot spend your whole life in the deep end, as that is a recipe for
drowning. Muscles get tired. So just like physical exercise, you have to
take breaks. You have to calibrate the stress and rest cycle of any
sort of entrepreneurial or creative work.
The
more I thought about it, the more I began to see these experiences, of
diving into the unknown, for what they really were. Some people call
them work projects, but I call them adventures. After all, isn’t the
definition of “adventure” to set off into the unknown, endure hardships,
come back and then rest?
With
this reframing, I finally had an answer to my friend’s question about
how I stay motivated. It’s because I’m constantly setting off on the
next adventure! How could I not?
I
know that adventures are not for everyone. I know they can feel scary
and intimidating. But making a habit of seeking adventures, in spite of
how scary they are, may be the secret to staying motivated about the
things you do.
And
that, if nothing else, confers a key economic benefit onto anyone who
experiences it. Even if we set aside all the tangible benefits that come
from stepping outside our comfort zone, it is intuitively obvious that
being more excited about your work is a surefire way to improve your
performance – and turn your various ventures into adventures.
Note: There is a difference between taking a `reasonable' risk and an `unreasonable' risk. As it relates to bicycling ... "NOT WORTH IT."
The linked YouTube video constitutes 6 minutes of one my recent training rides on Vulture Mine Road, west of Phoenix and south of Wickenburg. The purpose of posting this video is to display the benefits of this road for cycling and training. The vid is a bit shakey (I'm working on that). The road quality is good to excellent (in places).
The temperature was in the 100's (104 -109F most of the time). My heart rate was about 20 bpm higher than normal for that kind of effort and speed, on that kind of terrain. My plan to do 100 miles was abbreviated to 50 miles because of that. THIS is a link to the training session. (Note the reference to the `Attack of the Jumping Cholla Cactus'). At the end of the video I pull alongside a little bridge over an aqueduct that carries water from `someplace' to Phoenix. This is part of the Central Arizona Water Project. Frankly, I think it is an abomination. Although millions of people live in Phoenix it is a grim, flat, otherwise uninhabitable obscenity on the face of the earth. Much, if not most, of Arizona is unimaginably beautiful. Not pristine, of course. Roads and infrastructure blight the land, literally everywhere. Recreational vehicles, motorcyclists and off-road vehicles swarm, make massive sound pollution. Active and abandoned mines scar the place. Still ... this is the video. Vulture Mine Road - 6 minutes - April 6, 2016
