Embrace the hill

Well I was going to write about the concept of being in the moment, as it relates to our chosen activities. A zen-like, absolute, attention-grabbing focus. I was going to wax philosophical about the mental energy spent on cycling, about how when you are climbing up a very steep hill, your mind is unable to wander, and focuses instead on the immediate task at hand: turning over the next pedal stroke. Failing to do so with maximum force means risking falling or getting off your bike. I was reminded of an article I wrote many years ago called Zen and Mountain Biking about the similarities between mountain biking and sparring.  Dominique Larocque published it on her website, Creative Wheel Centre, and I wondered if it was still available. Instead of that article I stumbled across a blog called Zen and Mountain Biking: Lessons for Life. I read it and it blew me away. It said more and it said it better than I ever could. So I will take the best quote from that blog and share it with you.  

"To move forward you have to embrace the hill that is the unpleasantness of now."

Needless to say, this caught my attention for being relevant to what I have been writing about this month, namely, riding mountains. In a nutshell, it explains the purpose of riding these mountains, which can be applied to life in general. 

If zen is the art of being in the moment, of incorporating mind and body as one, of adapting to uncertainty, and letting go, then riding mountains can be thought of a zen experience. Cycling and martial arts have these imperatives in common. It is not possible to do martial arts and have your mind wander elsewhere because if it does, you lose. You lose the battle, you lose the drill, you lose the skill. So being in the moment while practicing martial arts is essential to being in it and doing it. You have to adapt to the unexpected, and let go of illusions (and delusions).

We have friends staying here for the week. They discovered the Catskills three years ago (through our recommendation) and have been coming back ever since. I got an email from one them the other day so excited to get here. When I mentioned it might rain on Sunday she wasn’t happy. I said but hey, you’ll be on vacation so it’s all good. She said true but she really needed to get out of the office and on the bike. “I’m so office-bound so much of the time that I’m just wanting to be out there, on the road, in the sun, sweating/panting profusely, working to keep up (gets me outta my brain, which I wanna escape from)…” 

I totally empathize. It’s amazing how a bike ride, especially an epic one on a hot summer’s day, can help clear the mind. You have no other worries except getting up that hill or staying on that wheel in front of you. It’s therapeutic. Which is ironic (or is it?) given my friend’s line of work: she is a doctor of psychology. I don’t suppose it’s an easy way to make a living, listening to other people’s problems all day.

This mindset applies uniquely to the mountains, whether on the road or off–road. Once the road flattens however, it is a different kettle of fish. You can enter code white, allow your thoughts scatter, and there are (usually) no consequences. In fact, riding on flat roads for long periods can be a good opportunity to think and be creative. This doesn’t happen when you are grappling with a mountain road... To move forward you have to embrace the unpleasantness of now! This applies to all our training doesn’t it? What a liberating thought!

                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Because you can!

Today when I was racing against the clock up a hill that has been my nemesis, I was reminded of something my first sensei used to say to motivate us during class. He would give us a moment to breathe partway through a particularly hellacious Black Belt Members' (BBM) class to provide some motivation. BBM classes were for black belt members, students who had made the commitment to get their black belt. You wore a red gi (uniform) and got to participate in BBM classes which were always grueling, in a fun way of course. My first sensei gave wickedly challenging cardio and plyometric workouts but he was not usually given to insightful comments. But this was an exception and it stuck with me. As a method of motivating us, he said, (I’m paraphrasing) “remember, not everyone can work out like this”.

I have used these words myself in classes when there is considerable groaning at the difficulty of the workout and I am reminded of it often when I’m riding my bike and putting myself through unnecessary pain. They are potent words. Some people can’t work out because of illness, injuries, health problems, or disabilities. There are any number of other reasons that not everyone is able to work themselves to the point of exhaustion. 

I met a woman outside a gas/convenience stop in Woodstock who told me she used to be me. I played along and said "Really?" Then she clarified, “I used to be like you”. She said she used to ride a hundred miles in a day all the time. She and her friend. It brought back fond memories, she said. My question was going to be why did you stop? But she answered before I could ask it. She said she had medical issues that prevented her from riding any more. I was struck by this. Of course you couldn’t tell by looking at her that anything was wrong, which is so often the case. It’s sad when your mind is willing but your body is unable. For too many folks it is the converse: their body is able but they are not willing. That is sad too in a different way. The upside is that the mind can be changed.

Training can be hard, the mental challenge being the biggest roadblock. I don’t have to do it, why put myself through all that discomfort, the effort, the pain. This evening I was attacking a favourite climb and every pedal stroke hurt more as the road got steeper. I could back off, I could stop and rest, or I could keep pushing. Why am I inflicting this unnecessary pain? I knew the answer: Because I can. I kept on going and almost fell off my bike once I reached the top, panting for air. I am grateful that I am able to do this. I consider myself one of the lucky ones and I don't want to let it got to waste.

So for those who do not belong to either of these two categories - willing mind but unable, or able but unwilling – those who fill the space between, remind yourself next time you are battling over whether or not to train, that you do it because you can. It is a sobering yet powerful motivator.

Riding mountains

So you may be thinking, I get the beautiful scenery, the forests, the mountains, the streams, the quiet back roads, but what's with the steep climbs? Who wants that? It's not for everybody, but the hard climbs provide a personal challenge, the descents are the reward for all the hard work.

As a point of clarification, there is a difference between riding mountains and mountain biking: riding mountains to me, means riding road bikes on mountain roads. Not paths, not trails. Mountain biking involves riding a purpose built bike designed for off-road. No matter who you are, climbing is hard and takes extreme effort. If you’re good at it, you just go faster. You are carrying your own bodyweight, plus that of your bike and any additional accessories uphill. The steeper the grade, the harder it is. 

Doesn’t sound very appealing, but somehow it is. The call of the hill. While there’s not very much in the way of flat riding in the Catskills– you can find yourself negotiating a 17% climb within 10 minutes of leaving home – there are specific roads that we call “climbs”. If they’re too short, they don’t count. If they’re long but not steep enough, they don’t count. Those that count, are the ones we go after. There is a start and a finish line and a timer, which makes it a time trial of sorts. It’s just that no one besides us cares what the results are. In a real time trial, the results are published for everyone to see. It’s cool to compare yourself to yourself. Day to day, week to week, or year to year.  

I have a like-hate relationship with some of the bigger climbs. At the top of the list of nasty ones is Devil’s Kitchen. It is as much of a mental challenge as it is physical. Although, if you are not in shape, no amount of mental toughness will help you. I sometimes get nervous the night before the ride and when we are getting close to the climb, I get really nervous. Why I am not sure. I know I can do it, so it’s not fear of failure. Well, maybe a little bit. If your legs are not ready, you could crack. Getting off and walking is not a great option in part because it can be very difficult to remount the bike. But it is probably self-imposed pressure – performance anxiety. I haven’t determined if this nervousness helps, hinders or makes no difference but it probably doesn’t really matter since I have little control over it. If it were adrenaline, it would help, but it is something much milder.

This past Sunday – my birthday - after being down here for over two weeks, we finally make it to Platte Clove Road, also known as Devil’s Kitchen. The ride to the base is about 2 hours and 15 minutes, during which time I conserve my energy for the big climb, which is to say, I ride slowly, not over-exerting myself.

There is a fast 20 minute section along Saugerties Road just outside of Woodstock that leads to Platte Clove. The group of us all get on Paul’s wheel and motor along that section. At the end of the road, it drops down to a stop sign and a three-way intersection. Turning left onto Platte Clove Road it is about one kilometer at a gradient of 1-2% before the climb. Platte Clove is a narrow, winding paved road with no shoulder. Although it is repaved often, the pavement deteriorates quickly. On the left is a canyon far below; to the right is the side of the mountain rising up sharply. Gurgling streams trickle down off the mountain side and both sides of the road are lined with trees providing much-needed shade for most of the first half of the climb.

The nasty part starts by flipping up to 15%, backs off for a few metres, then flips up to 15% again. There are short breaks in the steepness that allow a few meters of spinning, but the farther you go, the steeper it gets. About halfway up, there is a short section known as “the wall” that measures 23%. This is where many cyclists have to get off and walk, if they are foolish enough to attempt to ride the Kitchen with inadequate gearing. I have been one of them in the past. If you get up that part, there is a right hand bend in the road where it is wide open to the canyon below with only a guard rail between you and a sheer drop-off.  You can “res” for a few seconds where the road “flattens” to 12%, before it increases to 17%. By now I am usually gasping for air and grinding down on the pedals wondering if I will make it to the top before I collapse from exhaustion.

At the top, there is a small parking area where we all meet. We discuss our individual times and power numbers. Mine is off the mark by quite a bit, but this is no surprise. I know by feel if I am making lesser or greater power. Disappointing but it is always an accomplishment to finish that climb regardless of the numbers. I chalk it up as training for the next one. I am happy that it is behind me. Now it is off to Tannersville, a 30-minute ride to our lunch stop. And then the fun part: 15 kilometers of descending. Now I can use whatever I have left in my legs. No holding back now; use up whatever energy you have left. The ride home is faster, more painful and a lot of fun.

The chicken or the egg

Do we look the way we look because of what we do, or do we do what we do because of the way we look? Which comes first, the chicken or the egg? Some fitness experts assert that we look a certain way because of what we do. In other words, our bodies are a reflection of our activities. Which makes a lot of sense. But then there are those who suggest that certain body types are attracted to certain activities. This theory holds that we gravitate to certain activities because of our natural attributes, attributes not necessarily obtained through hard work but which are genetically endowed. This makes a lot of sense also.

Take a gymnast for example. Gymnasts look well-muscled, are usually shorter in stature, and are very lean. If this body type is what makes a good gymnast, then the second theory holds true. Take any high level athlete and look at their peers, and you will see a commonality among their body types: Cyclists (skinny, sometimes S-shaped: neck forward, rounded shoulders, hips forward; others are large in the rear and legs); swimmers (tall and broad-shouldered), football players (big and muscular); basketball players (exceptionally tall), and on and on. The little guy who goes out to make the football team usually doesn’t make it.

But even for the exceptionally talented athletes, their bodies reflect what they do. They just don't have to work quite as hard as the rest of us. Here is a quote from Gold Medal Bodies that cuts to the chase:

You want to know the "secret" to getting six pack abs? I'll tell you right now, there's no biohacking, miracle berries, or Dr. Oz Kool-Aid involved. Instead, we see the "six pack" as a natural by-product of overall strength and health. Build those up, do the work, and you'll get "the look".

That's it in a nutshell. You need to build a foundation of strength by doing the work. The look will follow. Six-pack abs are often a sign of strength, health and discipline. If you want the washboard abdominals, fine. That is not a bad goal. But a better goal might be to do a perfect pushup, a planche, or a muscle-up, the visible abs being a natural by-product of that level of skill. You could also achieve that look by restricting your diet and doing endless cardio, but the skill remain elusive.

Which begs the question, why be concerned at all about which comes first, the look or the activity? It matters because sometimes you hear people state their goals based on appearance. I want to look like X, Y or Z. If you turn that around and say I want to be able to do X, Y or Z, then the body adapts and changes accordingly. Having extrinsic goals like I want skinny arms or big arms, visible abs or cut muscles, directs your training in a potentially unhealthy direction. If your goals are extrinsic ones, then your path to reaching those goals will be based on achieving external reward. Maybe this is enough. Or maybe, on the road to building a better looking physique, you might find that acquiring more strength and new skills become even more satisfying than the appearance that comes with it!

Working the muscles in isolation will build a fine looking – but not very agile - physique. Traditional weight training will build a solid foundation but for ever-increasing levels of skill, you need to work the assistor muscles in tandem with the bigger muscles and in a variety of ways to build exceptional functional strength. This means elements like balance, different types of strength (straight arm and bent arm), mobility and agility.

By focusing on function, you end up with two for the price of one: a stronger body and a better looking body. Which came first, the body type or the chosen sport? Most likely a some of each. A certain body type gravitates toward a given sport but also any body who puts in the time and effort can become stronger and more skilled, and their body will reflect that. And since we can’t change the body type we are given, why not concentrate on the aspects we can change – our ability?

Reflections on a ride

Did two nice rides on the weekend, nothing killer. No timed efforts. Still, felt it in the legs and it showed on the power meter. So we took it easy on Monday and Tuesday. Then Wednesday gets here. It is oppressively hot and humid. The sun was out first thing and it was warm from the get-go. Felt really lethargic and sleepy. Didn’t even feel like doing my strength-training workout. Didn’t feel like moving. Sitting upright was a lot of work. The plan was for Paul to do the Bike Depot shop ride Wednesday night; I was planning my assault of the shorter side of Mohonk, a nasty insidious climb that starts out fast and gradually it creeps up to 12 per cent. On paper, it doesn’t sound bad but it’s really tough. But the forecast doesn’t look promising so Paul goes out for a short ride. Gets back and doesn’t it cloud over and start to rain. I missed my opportunity. The rest of the day was a write-off.

And the worst part is, Thursday was supposed to be worse. But by Wednesday evening, the hourly forecast shows only a slight chance of rain in the morning so I think, okay, all is not lost. We can get out for a short one at least.

Thursday arrives: it's sunny and hot when we get up. We have breakfast and head out, no dilly-dallying, toward the short side of Mohonk. The legs don’t feel as rested as they should. We get to the base of the climb in around 35 minutes. Paul strips off his jersey, removes water bottles and helmet, hiding them in the bushes and takes off up the hill. I am just behind him. We set the timer at the sign post. As I suspected from riding to the start, my legs are not crazy about the idea of all this effort. I continue on fighting with myself not to get too disheartened. Fourteen plus minutes later I am over the top. Paul is waiting on the horse carriage bridge that crosses the road at the top.

I loop around, pull up beside him and tell him my story of woe, and he has a similar one. I have to admit it helped that he had a bad climb also. We’ve been coming here for 20 years, and it still baffles me how unpredictable the body is. Reasonable fitness, plenty of riding interspersed with plenty of rest, reasonable nutrition, stretching and yoga, and still impossible to explain the lack of ability to perform at crunch time. I'm suspecting the weather plays a part.

At the top of Mohonk, there is a golf course of all things, and the entrance to Mohonk Preserve. A booth to pay to enter. As we circle and choose our next course of action - head back before the rain or gamble on doing a longer ride - we see another rider, a triathlete and he says hi and strikes up a conversation, which isn’t hard with Paul. His name is Jim Bacon and he lived at the bottom of the hill, on the other side of Mohonk. Turns out he has a sister who lives in Ottawa. He’s a judge. Same age as me. Nice guy. Quite dazzled by Paul's knowledge of bikes and aerodynamics versus weight. His nickname is Data for a reason. Jim goes on to tell us about a run they have up the mountain on the summer solstice. They meet their spouses at the top for dinner at Mohonk Mountain House. He also told us about a popular triathlon they run in the area on the Labour Day long weekend. Gets sold out within minutes of it being announced in October, eleven months prior! He said they swim in three lakes, running from lake to lake. Sounded very cool, if you were into triathlons. We exchanged email addresses.

While we were chatting, the sky got darker and then bright again, so we settled on riding down the far side and doing a bit of a loop back up the Shawangunk ridge. It was hot and Paul suggested stopping at the store at the bottom of the climb to get a drink. I said “Did you bring your wallet?”. He said, “No, didn’t you bring any money?” I said, “Three bucks!”  Ever since riding with my friend Vicki and ending up in Burritt’s Rapids with no money between the two of us and no bars or gels, I told myself to always bring money. But that morning, I was thinking we would be chasing back home to avoid the rain, with no time to stop and buy anything. Apparently Paul thought the same thing… or was packing light for the climb, or both. Anyway, we stopped and bought a Gatorade for $3. They had a special on: two for four dollars. So I figured I could afford one. But one cost three dollars… plus tax! When the guy at the cash told me about the deal, I said, I only have three dollars. So he gave me a break on the tax.

Drinking the Gatorade outside at the picnic table, the heat was intense! One lady gave us the thumbs up and asked us if wasn’t too hot. I said, it’s worse when you stop, which is true. No breeze. Anyway, onwards we went up the mountain. No clocks running. Just climbing.

On the way back we pass a swimming hole. I said to Paul, I think I want to get in the water. So we stop and the water is cold but felt amazing. While I was standing on the rock before getting in, a man says to me, "Are you from Canada?" (He must have spotted the Canadian flag tattoo on my arm.) I said, “Yes, Ottawa”. He had a French accent and said that he and his wife were from Quebec City. She asked me if I knew about “this place” before, the swimming hole. I said "yes, we’ve been coming here for 20 years". She said they just discovered it. They were there for the rock climbing. Small world.

We set off for home, the skies still mostly clear. But as we ride through the tiny hamlet of Accord very close to our resort, the roads are soaking wet. After that, Route 209 leading to the resort is starting to dry in the sun. The resort itself still very wet as the trees keep the sun off. It’s 2:00 and the sun is still shining. We didn’t get wet (well I did but not my bike). Bonus hours of sunshine. All in all a great day. I hope the legs make an appearance sooner rather than later on this trip. Three friends from Canada arrive tomorrow.