Some of my best days on the bike begin with the worst promise of a good day. A number of times I've begun the day with leaden legs as I watch the rest of the bike club disappear into the distance. My first thought at those times is "Oh no. Today is gonna hurt". Fortunately, my ancestors passed on to me a certain amount of stubbornness. I put my head down and just turn the pedals. Three quarters of an hour later, the day looks less bleak. I notice puffy white clouds overhead and wildflowers along the road and there seems to be a point to life after all.

At this point I'm nicely warmed up, I'm beginning to see other riders and when I press on the pedals while climbing I feel the bike accelerate and of course, I'm faster on the flats also. Above 16-17 mph the bike seems to wake up or maybe the rider is the one who wakes up. I call these times The Rapture. These moments focus our attention on the present, as any sporting activity will, such as golf, tennis or skiing and is the most alive one can be.

This past Sunday was such a day. It began awful but ended on a high note. Near the end, while completing a 30 mile loop, the peloton of younger riders, who were completing a 50 mile loop, passed me like I was standing still. I was riding at 17 mph (rare for me) and about 40 cyclists passed doing 25 mph. I know how fast they were going because the did the 50 miles in two hours. In amongst that group was a woman who I frequently see riding with them. She is absolutely tiny; maybe 5' tall and 95 pounds and I have no idea how she produces so much power. This is an aspect of cycling I like very much. That an old man, me, and there are many my age in the club, and a small woman can go out and be athletic and have a rich and rewarding experience.

Other people call is FLOW.

Thank you for posting your observations and perspective. Working through the pain and enjoying your place in the bigger picture is all part of the fun. Keep on keeping on.

Just this last week I noted this tagline that I consider a truism:

My term for that kind of experience is “becoming one with the bike.”

OK. So maybe calling it The Rapture is a bit too dramatic. Calling it The Flow State is good and I've experienced it several times during sporting activities. In the world of tennis it is known as the zone. For this state to come about seems to require some concentrated mental effort and perhaps considerable time. In tennis, pros have been at the game since the age of 6 y.o. or so. I've not been cycling a long time but I do have some mindfulness experience in several areas. That experience in one area, I believe translates to other areas also.

Really well written! I know it will pop into my mind someday (maybe soon) when I'm starting out and not feeling as powerful as I'd like. I'll try to remember to relax, enjoy, and give it the best I have.

I once heard an anecdote about Ted Williams, the baseball player, telling how when he was in his version of the "zone," that he could see the stitches on a pitched baseball.

Speaking of tennis, a book influential in my view of energy management was written by a Master Tennis Pro, Jim Loehr called “The Power of Full Engagement”. I had heard of the book from another source and decided to read it. While I’m not a tennis fan, the opening example from tennis captivated me to the premise of the book, as I describe.

Jim, I will have to think about the management of time in contrast with the management of energy. I think it may prove to be a useful distinction.

I don't have and never came close to the athletic ability of a Ted Williams but I can see where someone of his ability might be able to see the stitching on a baseball. I don't play tennis these days but played a great 10 years ago. I played in a league twice a week, had a tennis lesson with a pro once a week and once attended tennis camp in Texas for a whole week where my game got very sharp. I also frequently drilled with a ball machine, similar to a baseball pitching machine, hitting scores of forehands followed by scores of backhands. Once, just hitting back and forth with a friend, not in an actual game, I began to watch the ball closely. After half an hour or so, a gradual change took place where as I watched the ball bounce I could see the seams as the ball slowly rotated toward the racket. Every can of 3 balls are imprinted with a number to identify stray balls rolling onto another court. I could almost but not quite read the numbers. Now, this was all pretty weird but I had heard about being in the zone and this must be it.

I also noticed being hyper aware of just about everything going on around me. Once, my friend hit a nice forehand out wide I had to run for. As I ran to intercept his shot, I could clearly see the chain link fence beside the court and a car passing by on the adjacent road, and I could see my friend moving on his side of the court, all the while still seeing the tennis ball and the numbers the size of a grapefruit moving slowly and thinking I could trick my friend by hitting my shot in the opposite direction to the one in which he was moving. When we stopped our practice after several hours, my first thought was for the first time in my life I had been awake.

Today I don't play tennis (it's hard on the body) but I try to bring a high level of alertness to cycling. There is a hill near my home I always climb if riding from the house. As I bomb back down, I am deliberate about watching for loose dogs or someone backing out of a driveway into my path. In sports this is called situational awareness. In other circles it is called mindfulness. I think of it as paying attention to what may be going on around me. I drive my car much the same way so there are useful every day applications to this zone business.

I almost always start our sore, stiff, slow and weak. I'm usually better by about five minutes, and feeling on top of my game maybe ten minutes into the ride. Some of this is stiffness being pushed away, some of it is shifting from a sugar burn to a fat burn, which is a lot more comfortable and less oxygen consuming (second wind), and some is from getting out of the house and back onto the bike. Being in the moment sharpens everything up, and makes me happy. I trust that the first five minutes will get better, and it always does.

Not sure that there is such a thing as a 'bad ride'. But there certainly are sub-par rides.

But I have learned that a ride is NOT sub-par until it has been sub-par for at least 20 minutes. It is amazing how often that bad start tends to go away.

dave

Sounds like a good day for you. And while I understand The Flow, since I'm somewhat competitive, getting passed like I was standing still wouldn't qualify as Rapture in my book.

You obviously aren't listening to the right tunes!
competitive, let me guess - ACDC?
groove with some FleetwoodMac.

I guess I'm not competitive enough to be bothered by people passing. But then, several weeks ago nearing the end of a club ride, I was climbing a longish hill, longish for these parts anyway, and making fine progress when an older woman passed me. I see here and here husband, (partner) riding frequently in town. She surprised me by moving past at a good clip. There are a number of older riders in the club and they all move along at a surprisingly fast pace.

I've been looking into nutrition because as I've been doing longer rides, on bike nutrition and after ride recovery nutrition have become increasingly important. I'm just beginning to get a handle on aerobic and anaerobic energy systems. gdhillars's post reminded me of this. I'm not to conversant on this topic and we have an entire area devoted to training and nutrition. When I know more about what I'm talking about I am going to ask some questions over there. In the meantime, not depleting glycogen during the ride seems to be the key to endurance.