Getting in Touch with My Inner Granny

34 x 23
That's the new gear for me
When in my seat and on a climb
My granny really is divine!

NOT my grandmother... ⇒

I never thought I would write these words: "I ♥ my granny! Really, I do!"

The first morning of Daylight Savings Time dawned cold, wet, and dark. 0700 seemed awfully early when I met Mark the Centurian for a ride through bucolic western Howard County.

Here's the map of my Home - Tridelphia Mill - Howard Road loop.

Granted, it's the beginning of the season. but I still cannot get used to my appalling early-season form! Last week, I was "That Guy" on the Sunday group ride. This week I was struggling to survive up hills that I flew up just a few short months ago!

Discipline Shattered

Last year was a breakthrough year for my riding. One of the tenets I rode with was: "Thou shalt not use your granny gear." Stubbornness, pride, and athletic ego would not let me use that gear, except for emergencies (such as a heart rate in excess of 200, pitches exceeding 20°, or seizures).

So, what happens on my second ride this year? That's right, my discipline shattered. With a crushed ego, I discovered the joys of my granny.

Thar's sufferin' in them thar hills!

Gear Ratios, Schmear Ratios

The pros ride 53 x 11. My highest gear is 50 x 11. There's a reason why they are pros.

A gear so famous they named a coffee after it...  ⇒

All winter I had been on trainers, rollers, and spin bikes. I focused on high cadence riding; I was always above 90 rpm. It is comfortable, and I am able to find a groove for my pedal stroke.

The real world is different. It has topography.

At this point in the season, hills are a challenge (and I mean hills, not mountains, which are altogether different). Maintaining my cadence up a half-mile hill requires the right gearing. More importantly, it requires a level of fitness I am struggling to rediscover.

I have a suitcase of courage. I am lacking a rich vein of form.

Let's face it, I am built like Jan Ullrich. I'm neither a greyhound like Lance nor a gazelle like Contador. I have large thighs and an arse you could use as a sideboard during a formal dinner. (No, really, it's HUGE!)

Get behind the behind! ⇒

The point here (other than self-deprecation and a stylistic reliance on parentheticals) is that I resemble Ullrich when climbing. I look like a drunken organ-grinder, churning out dirge after dirge to unwelcoming Parisian pedestrians.

But I'm working on it. I want to ride more like Lance and Alberto the Alien, so I need to use my full range of gears. To ride a cadence-driven style means that I must un-stubborn myself, swallow my pride, suppress my ego, and get on with it!

New Rules Apply

I hereby replace my previous rule about my granny gear with the following: "Thou shalt ride intelligently."

Let's face it, I'm 41; and I'm not getting any younger. To get better I need to ride smarter. I need to ride with discipline, based on intelligence, not ego.

Cycling requires far more mental strength than observers know. It takes commitment to get out before dawn on a cold, wet morning. It takes tenacity to keep riding after the lactic acid has burned your thighs to cinders. It takes determination to do it week in, week out.


"Ride intelligently."

I'll give it a go; we'll see how far it takes me.