Knock, Knock

I'd had this weekend penciled in as the start of serious Marmotte training for a while (this is not to say that the Hellfire sportive was some kind of 'leg loosener' however).

A gorgeous early winter day greeted me on Saturday, so off I went to Richmond Park with no goal in mind other than to practice cycling at a higher cadence. The cadence sensor on the bike wasn't quite set up right, so the reading was occasionally a little intermittent, but I returned an average of 83rpm, which is pretty much the centre of the zone I was aiming for. It felt slow speed-wise, but apparently that's normal and the pace will return once I get used to the new technique.

Today I headed out in the direction of the Surrey downs. This lasted only a couple of KM's though, before I had to turn back to the house to retrieve the water bottles I'd left behind! Liquid refreshment in place, off I went again. Felt good all the way down to the first climb, Ranmore, but as soon as the climb began the legs felt tired and devoid of any real power. I put the bike in a low gear and span away at a very slow speed, all the time wondering if I should call it quits there and then and head for home.

Once at the top, I pedalled along Ranmore common and ate the sandwich I'd brought with me, and began to feel a little better on the descent down Critten Lane. Consumed an energy gel before the 2nd climb, Crocknorth Rd, and began to work my way up the 15% slope. Again, there was nothing in the legs, and at times it felt like I was going backwards.

Once up on Ranmore Common again, my speed picked up as I pointed the bike towards Box Hill. Another energy gel before the start, then I was onto the climb. I'd resigned myself to the fact it was going to be slow, and indeed it was as many cyclists went past me on the ascent. After that, it was the 30km home, where my lack of energy became a full-on bonk. Getting the knock is a horrible experience, and my legs turned to jelly and my mind went blank - not good in London traffic. My last ounces of energy and autopilot got me home, upon which I consumed my weekly intake of calories in one sitting.

Chris Froome bonking on Alpe d'Huez in the 2013 TdF - unfortunately I had neither a team car or a Richie Porte to get me food in the Surrey Downs!

So what went wrong? Well I'm not sure. Maybe I was feeling tired from Saturday's ride. Maybe I still hadn't recovered from the Sportive last week. Maybe I hadn't fuelled properly over the weekend. Maybe I need to lay off the booze for a bit. My suspicion is it's a combination of all of the above.

Still, stats for the weekend below. Nice to feel like I'm getting some real miles under my belt.

Distance cycled: 146km
Time on bike: 5hrs 56mins
Average speed: 24.5km/h
Total climbing: 1,623m

Don't Sweat The Technique

Following my ruminations below on my current shortcomings, I have invested a considerable amount of time researching climbing technique and how to improve it. The following article seems to back up what I had identified as my problems with hill-climbing - it appears that I am a 'masher', when I need to be a 'spinner'

The article lays out everything really well (apart from indentifying the real reasons behind Lance's climbing ability!), and the problems associated with being a 'masher' do ring true with me (high heart rate, low cadence, lactic acid build-up)

So my course of action is clear - my next few training rides should be used to get used to pedalling at a higher cadence (both on hills and the flat). Once I'm comfortable with that, then I will have a better idea of how my HR will respond to the new technique when the road points at the sky.

Click here for Mark Consugar on climbing

Back To The Drawing Board

If the Hellfire sportive taught me one thing on Sunday (other than my fitness being woefully short of par), it's that my hill-climbing tecnique needs to improve markedly, particularly as the Marmotte and the Cingles have over 5,000m of climbing each. As mentioned in the last post, it was worrying to find that Jon's HR when climbing was high but comfortable when the road ramped up, whereas I was on the limit.

The internet is awash with hints and tips which promise to make you 'ascend like a pro', and whilst that might be a little outlandish for a MAMIL like me (don't think I'll ever ascend the Ventoux at 20km/h+!), there is some wisdom which I'm hoping will help.

This advice can be broken down into two areas:

1. Technique

Don't attack at the bottom of a climb - I need to curb my enthusiasm when the road starts to ramp up. Powering through short climbs is fine, but for long or steep climbs I need to be far more disciplined. I have a tendency to go hard into the start of a climb in too big a gear and keep going until I'm forced to change down. This makes my HR spring up to near maximum, and from there it never recovers to a manageable level until the climb is over. A much more efficient method would be to get into an easy rhythm early and maintain a steady effort.

Use a higher cadence - I rarely check my cadence when climbing, but when I do it's probably 70rpm at best. Current wisdom suggests that it should be closer to 90rpm to maximise efficiency. Getting used to a higher cadence can be done on the turbo-trainer, so this is definitely something to work on over the winter.

Nutrition - As mentioned before, my eating and drinking habits on the bike are sporadic at best, meaning that I find myself with a lack of energy or adequate hydration when I hit a climb. Improving discipline by eating/drinking every 20-30mins will improve this, as will doing a little homework on the course beforehand so I know where the major climbs are and thus can make sure I'm prepared.

2. Training

Doing long rides - This worked for the Etape - there really is little substitute to getting out on long rides incorporating some significant climbs.

Don't duck long rides in the winter due to bad weather

Utilise circuits of Richmond Park - 3 lap TT's of the park are a great test of fitness, but measuring my effort to complete 3 consecutive flying laps may not be the most productive use of the session. If time allows, 5 laps of over/under training would be far more useful in building fitness, where laps 1, 3 & 5 are flying laps on the limit, with a recovery lap in between.

Get a bike fit - Looking for free watts? Chances are you'll get some by finding your most efficient position on the bike

A Game Of Two Halves

Rode the Hellfire Sportive in Kent on Sunday in what proved to be tricky conditions. Although the sun shone on the day, it had been wet and windy in the days preceding, meaning that the roads were wet, muddy and full of sharp objects which seemed determined to find their way into everyone's inner tubes.

The route was supposedly 140km long, and opened with a nervy descent down a narrow, wet lane in a large group. Once off the descent the pace picked up nicely, and riding with Jon was good fun as we chatted and hurtled through the Kent countryside.

The climbs, though short, did show up Jon's superior climbing ability as we found that his HR was a comfortable 165bpm when ascending, whereas I was approaching my max HR. This difference became really apparent at the top of each climb, as I maintained my climbing pace as the road levelled out while I recovered, while Jon immediately clicked up a couple of gears and went away from me.

At about the halfway point, I really began to feel the effort of pulling along at such a speed. I was effectively in TT mode on the flats just to keep Jon's wheel. So I told Jon to go off at his own speed. So he did. Like he was chasing down a breakaway. Within a minute he was out of sight, and I went backwards.

The rate at which my speed dropped off was alarming, and I felt weak and the legs stiffened up (I really need to address my on-bike nutrition habits). The rest of the ride became a slog, as I battled my own body and an unrelenting headwind all the way home.

The feedstop at 90km and the Garmin clicking over the magic 100km did rejuvenate me somewhat, but I was still toiling. In my defence, I hadn't been feeling great that day with some kind of stomach complaint, and I later found that my rear brake had been rubbing on the rim, but the reality was that having done no long rides at race-pace since the Etape, I was woefully short of fitness.

I knew that the course finished with a 3km ascent up the same hill we'd gone down at the start, so I resolved to take it easy up what I thought was the penultimate climb with 10km to go and empty the tank on the final push. I was therefore bl**dy suprised to find the finish line at the top of that climb - the course was 9km shorter than I had been led to believe. This did mean that I had enough energy for an out-of-the-saddle sprint (of sorts) through the Kent showground to the finishing arch.

Stats for the ride were:

Distance: 131km
Time: 5hrs 58mins
Average Speed: 22km/h (23km/h moving time)
Total Climbing: 1,500m

So way off the gold medal time, and silver was still a speck in the distance. Instead, a feeble surrender and a bronze medal (everyone wins a prize!). The only redeeming fact is that I managed to ward off the puncture fairy, which was quite a feat as there was more than one story in the finishing area of people with 4-5 punctures.

Still, lots and lots of work to do

Get Fit Or Die Tryin'

It's 8 months until the Marmotte, and it feels like I've done the square root of f*** all in preparation so far. Not necessarily a bad thing - you can't keep training year-round without a break, so the time off the bike following the Etape has been welcome. But now's the time to get serious.

I've done a fair amount of work on the turbo this week, and this Sunday is my first post-Etape sportive - the Wiggle Hellfire Corner down in Kent. A speed of 25km/h needs to be maintained around the 140km course to achieve the Gold Medal time, so I'll be aiming for that.

Beyond that, I've got a free couple of days the following weekend, when I hope to get down to Surrey for the first time since the summer, and I'll be following that up with a weekend pedalling around the Brecon Beacons on my lonesome. I'm expecting it to rain.

Inspiration to train hard was revived last weekend after going to the Manchester Velodrome to watch the track cycling World Cup. The speed hit by the sprinters is jaw-dropping (as is the angle of the banking), and watching Laura Trott's breakaway effort in the Omnium scratch race will live long in the memory as one of the most brilliantly gutsy things I've ever seen on a bike.

We Can Rebuild It, We Have The Technology

With rain and gale force winds arriving, the time has come to put the Scott away for the winter and re-instate the Cube as the bike of choice.

Unfortunately, that meant having to rebuild it first.

I'm proud to say that I did it all myself, including the cabling and installing a new bottom bracket and chain. Some fresh bar tape finished it off nicely, and it all runs smoothly.

Doubts

It seems like ages since I've been out on the road on the bike. Most weekends since the etape have been taken up with doing all the things I couldn't do earlier in the year due to training for Annecy.

The route for the Tour de France has been released, and the etape for this year is back in the Pyrenees, taking in the massive climbs of the Tourmalet and Hautacam. I can imagine that all those planning to do the race this year are getting quite excited now - it should be a great ride (as long as the weather behaves)

Speaking of the Tour de France, I spent the weekend in Paris and took a stroll along the greatest finishing straight in the world, the Champs Elysees. It's not hard to imagine around 200 cyclists hammering around it at the end of the Tour, but I didn't appreciate how much of a hill there is on it. Especially now that the circuit goes right up to the Arc de Triomphe. A nasty sting when your trying to maintain a speed of 50-60km/h at the end of 3 weeks riding.

And now I'm back in the UK, and it seems that my bike is permanently connected to the turbo trainer. It's a really good workout, and I get a lot from it, but it's no alternative to getting out on the road and putting the long rides in. And the more time I spend off the bike, the more enormous the task of preparing for, and riding, the Marmotte becomes.

This is really beginning to play on my mind, as as I mentioned at the very start of this blog, I'm prone to not even attempting things which I deem to be out of reach. I need to get into serious training, so that I feel like I'm moving towards my target, not letting it get away.

Then there are the scary aspects of the course, and these are really turning niggling doubts into full-blown paranoia the more I think about them.

Take the first climb of the race up to the Col du Glandon for example. It's 24km long. That's longer than Ventoux, and much longer than any climb I attempted on the etape. And that's just the first of 4 HC category climbs!

After that there's the descent back to the valley. I'm far from being a great descender, and this part of the course is actually neutralised as they've had many crashes and even fatalities in the past. Gulp.

Into the valley and there's a 15km, slightly uphill, drag to the foot of the Telegraphe. The key here is to get in a group and do as little work as possible, but what if I don't get into a group and have to pull along on my own? My legs could be shot before I get even halfway round.

The Telegraphe doesn't sound too scary, but it's another long climb which saps the energy just before you get to the big one - Galibier.

Galibier sounds brutal. The second half of the climb averages at around 10%, and gets up to 14-15% in places. Tough on it's own, but with two mountains already behind me I may just pedal to a standstill (how do you say 'put me back on my bike' in French?)

The general consensus is that if you crest Galibier still on your bike, it's a massive milestone as you have a lovely long descent all the way to Bourg d'Osian to recuperate, and you're likely to have ample time to get up Alpe d'Huez, even if you take a break at each one of the fabled 21 hairpins.

But even then there's still so much that can go wrong. As I've said, I'm not the greatest descender, so when you add in fatigue and several dark road tunnels into the equation, coming down off the mountain is fraught with danger. By the time I get over Galibier (if I do) I'll have done as much climbing as in the 2013 etape, and I don't need reminding that I was pretty much on the limit there. So the descent is likely to be quite tense, expending even more precious energy.

Then there's just the Alpe to go. For the first two hairpins, the gradient averages 11% - nevermind resting at each corner, I may have to stop every 10 metres! After that it will be an utter, painful, delirious, never-ending slog. The internet is awash with stories of Marmotteers collapsing on the Alpe, only to wake up in hospital in Bourg and their finishers medal cruelly snatched away (I've even read of one poor guy collapsing in the town of Huez, having completed the climbing and had less than 1km to go). I have no doubt I'm gonna hate every moment of the Alpe, which is a shame as it's the climb I most want to do. I'll have to come back some time and do it on it's own.

So that's what I'm up against. I always felt I was strong enough to do the Etape, but even that pushed my body to the limit. This looks like a wholly different proposition. And I really am scared.