Chapter 5

With the cycling season well under way, and a good amount of base miles under our jerseys, it was time to crank up the effort and start to work on focused training efforts. I had given each of the women a training diary to both track their individual training and keep them on schedule for the two major events of our season. In essence, the STP would serve as a very long training ride for the ‘Crashcade’ Classic. In the case of both events, however, we were going to have to start to work on climbing hills if we hoped to finish the event and have a good time about it.

Now, the secret to hill climbing is almost entirely attitude. Like the ‘Little Engine That Could’, your attitude needed to be “I think I can, I think I can...” What makes most people not be good climbers is that they tell themselves that they aren’t good climbers! Now, that’s not to say that someone who doesn’t train, and weighs about two tons too boot, is going to wish themselves uphill. But, a rider in good shape can make themselves a better climber by having the right mental framework and a positive mental outlook.

Now, on most professional teams, there are riders that fill various roles. There are the ‘Domestiques’ whose job it is to run all the errands the team may need, sort of glorified gophers on bikes. The ‘Mountain Goats’ whose job it is to climb the big hills with the team leaders, giving all they have until the summit when the ‘Golden Boy’ pulls around and takes all the glory. And finally, the guys in my group; the hard-working, under-appreciated ‘Diesels’. That valiant band of brothers whose job it is to pull the entire team, and at times the entire peloton, along the flats in an effort to ride the legs off of all the other riders on the other teams. Oh, did I forget the ‘Golden Boys’? These are the designated ‘Gazelles’, or sprinters, and the ‘Team Leader’ (did anyone else just hear an A-Major chord?).

To win a big time tour, like the Tour de France for example, all the members of the team need to at least be able to do all the disciplines. That means even if you are a light weight, tightly wound sprinter type, you still have to be able to climb the Alps! Or if you are a hard-working Diesel type, and you have already shot your wad by the time you get to the bottom of the Alps, you have to struggle to the top anyway. So, although I had been a professional racer for years, I had been almost exclusively a diesel type. This meant that I could climb, and I thought I did it quite well, but it also meant that a lot of riders did it better.

We gathered at the park again for our Wednesday evening training ride. In addition to my regular five, we had picked up another rider: Melinda’s twenty-year-old sister, Melody. Apparently, Melinda and Melody’s mother had liked names that started with ‘Mel’! Melody was a junior at Oregon State University and now that she was on summer break she had returned, like the swallows and college students since the beginning of time, home for the summer and could ride with us. Melody was as beautiful as Melinda, but in a tighter, taller package. She had the same strawberry blond hair, only longer in a braid down her back, and she was taller than all the other women in our team.

At 5’ 8” Melody was only an inch shorter than me, and all of that extra height was legs. She was a good thirty or forty pounds lighter than me and all graceful and fluid muscle. She ran cross country and the longer distance events on her college track team, as well as riding on the OSU collegiate racing team, and she was whip thin with no body fat at all that I could see. In other words, she was a born climber!

The team gathered around as I started to explain the mission for the evening. “Okay, tonight we are going to run some hill intervals.” This was met with the general level of groans I had come to expect every time climbing was mentioned. “I’m now going to share a secret with you. This is a secret from the world of professional racing. A secret so secret, so closely held, that if any of my fellows found out I had told you I’d be banned for life from ever racing again.” They all eagerly crowded around now to hear me whisper this gem from my years of racing wisdom. “The secret is... ‘Ya gotta go up anyway!”

“Awww, Nate,” said Melinda and Anne in unison.

“Damn, I could’ve told you that one!” said Meredith with a pout.

“Okay, here’s the real deal. The secret to climbing is all mental. Sure, the body weight to power ratio plays an important part, but none of you have a body weight problem. It’s going to be all in your heads. Now, tonight I brought a different bike, anybody notice?”

I had brought my team climbing bike, and it was jet black carbon fiber, and it just screamed sexy! They gathered around it and I had them all lift it up. It was a Trek Madone 5.2, state of the art, about three years ago. Hell, I had pairs of shoes that weighed more than this bike. It was barely within the weight limits of the UCI, the governing body of international cycle racing.

“Okay, so I have the equipment, and I have the technology, is it enough to make me a great climber? Hell no! As our friend Lance has proven over and over, ‘It’s not about the bike!’” I looked into their quietly intense eyes, and finally saw the dawning of comprehension. I could see them all rolling this over in their minds, and I gave them a minute to process it.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” said Lizzie, “What makes a good climber then?”

“Sweetie, it’s all in your head.” I said with a smile. “Look closely at the frame where it meets the head tube. See the little sticker there? What does it say?”

“‘Don’t let the hill win.’ Hmm, I think I like it!” said Meredith with a grin.

“Good because I’ve got a sticker for each of you. And it needs to go right there, so you’ll see it every time you go to start a climb.” I handed them out and everyone put theirs on their frame in the same place I had mine.

“Now to climb well you need to be properly motivated, right? Okay, here’s the deal for tonight. We are going to start out with some short hill intervals. Nothing any of you cannot climb in five minutes or so. This will give me a chance to get a feel for who climbs well and who need more time or effort. After a few of these, we’ll finish with a nice hard effort. I have just the hill in mind for this one.” This was met with rolled eyes, groans, and comments to the effect that I was ‘sadistic’. I merely smiled angelically, which didn’t seem to fool anybody!

“Now, here’s the motivation for tonight. I’m going to give all of you a one-minute head start on this hill. It is a hard effort hill, and it should take most of you only ten minutes or so to climb it, if you are properly motivated. So, to get you properly motivated, here’s the kicker; after the minute head start, I’m going to come pounding up this hill like it’s the final stage in the Alps on le Tour. Anyone I pass before we reach the top doesn’t get any tonight. Anyone who beats me to the top is coming home with me! Work for you?”