By Kevin Kolodziejski
“Ride lots.”
It’s what Eddy Merckx once said to a reporter when asked what advice he’d give young aspiring riders. And the guy they called “The Cannibal” most certainly walked the walk — and pedaled the pedals. According to an estimate given in William Fotheringham’s book, “Half Man, Half Bike,” during the 11 seasons he dominated and decimated the pro ranks, Merckx rode 45,000 miles a year (15,000 training and 30,000 racing).
That’s a total of just under a half million miles and just might be as impressive as another tally: Merckx’s 445 career victories. And if that number isn’t mind-numbing enough, try wrapping your head around this ratio. Between 1967 and 1977, Merckx won nearly one out of every three races he entered.
And don’t ever accuse him of cherry picking races to stand on the top step of the podium. His palmarès includes 28 Classics, 17 six-day races, 11 Grand Tours — with five in the Tour de France (primarily as a result of winning a record-tying 34 TdF stages) — as well as three World Championships.
In short, the only way you omit Merckx’s mug from your Mt. Rushmore of Cyclists is if your brain’s been damaged by the detonation of the dynamite and the jarring from the jackhammering building it. And in short, if you intelligently apply Merckx’s advice (without taking it to Eddy’s nth degree, obviously), it works. It certainly works for a while, maybe even a good long while. Like maybe a decade and a year?
Moreover, like the stray, wide-eyed pup that never barks as he bird-dogs your bike down the alley to your garage, it’s easy to grow attached to and adopt Merckx’s words as your own. Because they are more than misguided machismo; they’re the way to get your fill of what you love. But as flecks of white start to speckle its muzzle, how do you keep the smell fresh around Riding Lots’ litter box? You follow another piece of advice equally as laconic as Merckx’s.
“Read Lots.”
The Add-On to Ride On
Before sharing a bit of cycling success from reading lots, I’ll spell out why adding to Merckx’s advice is necessary. If you are a ride-lots enthusiast, you need to come to grips with something I so often — so unpleasantly often — fail to grasp. That whether it’s due to chronic injury, declining motivation, advancing age, or a cruel configuration of all three, there comes a time when the number of miles covered or hours ridden per week that meant “ride lots” to you before can be reached no more.
So you ride less, obviously. What else can you do? Not ride at all?
Sadly, that’s what many of my former cycling buddies have done and here’s why. When they took on an I’m-not-what-I-once-was attitude and replaced ride-lots rides with lesser ones, the entire cycling lifestyle lost its luster. Worse, it made them feel like frauds.
I won’t lie to you. I sometimes feel like a fraud when I jot in my journal a ride-lots ride that covers 60 instead of the 75 miles that was so routine just a few years ago. But I’ve come to recognize that something I do naturally fends off that feeling and does it so well I feel like riding soon afterwards.
I read anything and everything.
Classic literature. Contemporary marvels. Far-flung philosophy. Detective novels. Three daily newspapers.
Why Reading Lots Is Good for You
Let’s get the obvious reason out of the way. “The whole secret of life,” as the English author Horace Walpole once said, “is to be interested in one thing profoundly and in a thousand things well.” But not only does reading lots augment your knowledge of a singular profound interest, it also serves as a sort of an intellectual smorgasbord and allows you to sup on stuff not cooked — though consumed — in your own mental kitchen.
And as you sample this foreign fare, a beautiful thing often happens. Your mind links the new experience to an old concern. And voilà. Peace of mind returns.
Crisis? What Crisis?
While seasoned cyclists may recall a similarly named album by Supertramp in the 70s, the subhead concisely summarizes the before and after that will happen in your head when you make one of those beautiful links from reading lots. This is the way it saved my cycling sanity when it most recently happened for me.
Reading Lots Can Save Your Cycling Sanity
Because the first seven climbs had not been up to snuff, I was already feeling bummed out at the base of the final climb on a ride expected to last three hours. When I stood on the first steep pitch, I swerved dramatically and nearly fell. A piece of the spring in the right cleat had broken off. I could no longer lock in to the right Speedplay pedal.
To keep riding, I would need to apply steady pressure to it, yet never fully pull back — and remain seated at all times. But parts of the climb I still needed to do, I normally did standing in my granny gear. I arrived home 21 minutes later than anticipated.
And in one of the foulest, fed-up-with-cycling moods I had ever experienced.
I had no appetite, only anger, so I took a shower before refueling. Somewhere in the middle, though, a craving for both carbs and riding returned — simply because I remembered something I had read recently. A belief of the 26th President of the United States, Teddy Roosevelt: “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
I didn’t lie to you before, so I won’t now. Despite being 61 and suffering three major lower-body injuries in the last 13 years, going slower on the bike bothers me. Really bothers me. So much so that I fear it’s unhealthy. But when my mind makes one of those beautiful links from reading lots, I get well pretty quickly.
As I ate baked squash, it happened again, and I felt even better. I recalled a line from a book I had recently reread, Natalie Goldberg’s “Wild Mind”: “We never graduate from first grade.” That quickly, I had a new plan. I’d still kneel at the altar of Eddy Merckx, but ride lots a bit differently. I wouldn’t climb as much as usual over the course of the coming weeks, but do more miles muscling flatlands, incorporating short 30-to-90 second efforts in an attempt to regain some the power I’ve lost from advancing age and three bad bone fractures.
Will It Work?
Here’s a third time I won’t lie to you. I don’t know if the new plan will work or not. But I’m not sure if that matters. What does is that I’m chomping at the bit to ride again.
And it’s because I “read lots.”
Kevin Kolodziejski began his writing career in earnest in 1989. Since then he’s written a weekly health and fitness column and his articles have appeared in magazines such as “MuscleMag,” “Ironman,” “Vegetarian Times,” and “Bicycle Guide.” He has Bachelor and Masters degrees in English from DeSales and Kutztown Universities.
A competitive cyclist for more than 30 years, Kevin won two Pennsylvania State Time Trial championships in his 30’s, the aptly named Pain Mountain Time Trial 4 out of 5 times in his 40s, two more state TT’s in his 50’s, and the season-long Pennsylvania 40+ BAR championship at 43.
Thanks for a stunning article and insight!
Is it “chomping” or “champing”?
Whichever you prefer. Both are acceptable. I have always said “chomping.”
It’s champing. Something horses do at the bit. English ones, anyway. The other word is a colonial misinterpretation and rather embarrassing in this context.
Thanks for those wise observations. The only thing I would add is a reflection on why we ride. At 82 I’ve lost any of the ego attachment I used to apply to my results when racing as a kid. I’ve come to realize that how “good” or “bad” one is at cycling (as with most other artificially constructed man-made arenas of competition) has as much, or more, to do with one’s genetic inheritance. When I watched another Eddie, a power lifter named Eddie Hall, dead lift 500KGs (1104Lbs.) I came to realize how much genetics plays a part in our athletic achievements. One can only come to the party with what one has and make the best of it. The key is not to take it seriously. Once it’s taken too seriously, you’re on the road to self destruction. Athletic fitness and health are not synonymous. I’ve watched many riders over the years give up the latter while seeking the former much to their ultimate detriment. As age envelopes us all, just be happy you can still do it, regardless of whatever speed that might be. Give up the quest to be the worlds biggest midget. no one cares much less being handed a 6 figure check for the effort.
Such words of wisdom can only come from a guy who’s done it all.
I’m nearly there. At 72 years of age, my riding career goes back to when I was 19, more than a half-century ago, when after graduating high school my dad offered me a year in Europe (a “grand tour” LOL) if I could survive on a tiny amount sent to me via American Express each month. What could I say? I jumped at the opportunity.
I had an additional income source: a weekly column in our small town paper, sort of a “voice of youth” blog. Those were heady years and I found myself in hot water with many readers on issues like the morality of shooting bears while they were hibernating, and other inflammatory subjects. Maybe that push-back was the chief reason I decided to work as a writer in later years.
So off I went to Europe, in 1969 when there was still some optimism left. And though I had never ridden a bicycle farther than to my school yard, I high-tailed it to one of the best bike shops in London and purchased a Claud Butler, fitted out with bags to accommodate my touring. (And I now know, it’s a legendary marque.)
And then, one morning, awakening in my tiny room in a low-rent hotel in Earls Court where I had to put coins in the heater, I screwed my courage to its sticking point (Shakespeare) and set sail on my new Claud Butler on the busy roads to Dover. From that day to several months later, I scoured Europe and North Africa, ending up on the island of Crete in a little tourist town on the south coast (Irapetra) where I could drink ice-cold retsina and eat enormous, just-caught-and-boiled shrimp, for pennies a round. At night we youthful travelers on the cheap would dance it up Greek-style with the locals, who were very kind and accepting.
By this time I was hard as a rock from cycling, with not an ounce of fat, able to do 60-mile stints in the Alpes Maritimes north of Nice. That year was a graduate course in the pursuit of life with some thrills and thanks the kindness of strangers, no disasters befell me. What I brought home with me was my Claud Butler and a sense that I had found my life-long sport, and guess what, I had.
For the last few years I’ve been lurking on John’s mailing list and purchased several of his real-world useful guides to fitness and longevity. The current issue, with its focus on lower back problems, convinced me I had been freeloading long enough, and I should take out a premium membership.
I now live just outside the Bay Area in Northern California, surrounded by hundreds of miles of near-empty two lanes build by the Spanish to connect the many towns that surround the Bay when it was part of Mexico. I’d moved here from Canada in 1996 to be at the heart of the technology revolution and was besotted by the region’s Mediterranean climate. I had some health setbacks in my sixties but overcame them and am still soldiering on, not as fast as before, but I like to think with what is even more important than speed: exemplary form.
I am well aware, however, that I’ve been faking it and I’m not going to get away with being a poseur much longer. Lazy by nature, I took a holiday from my floor exercises a couple years back and stuck to my alternating-day 15-mile training ride in the challenging Oakland hills. Now, after years of no proper exercise to make up for the imbalance that cycling-only confers on the body, I’ve degenerated to the point where ten minutes of standing while unloading the dishwasher has my lumbar back in agony. I know I’m not injured . . . it’s just zero t0ne in my foundation muscles.
So with today’s issue of John’s newsletter I’ve ordered that exercise ball and have made notes based on John’s recommended exercises. My final task will be to sign up as a premium member, because I know for sure I am not going to get through the next five or so still riding unless I get some professional help.
I look forward to learning and listening, and best of all, exchanging ideas and experiences with other septuagenarian riders who are still at it, — because like me they have no choice. We are all in a criterium where the last one around the course gets to spend the rest of his life in a chair. The opportunity to swap stories and techniques among my peers will be most welcome.
Thanks for articulating it. By having thoughts in my “mental kitchen” I find that I can ride solo for hours without being bored, and so I ride longer and more often. I’m now thinking that reading/ideas should be a conscious part of endurance training as is nutrition, stretching, etc.
A few years ago II complained to my cardiologist (a cyclist himself) that I could no longer do the 75 and 100 mile daily rides that I once could, he said, “Most of my patients can’t even walk from the mailbox to the front door…Just do what you CAN do.” I am now 87 years old and several times each week I ride 10-15 miles at a 12 mph pace. Each new day is a gift and I’m thankful that I can still ride
Been reading everybody’s aging-with-declining-spirits stories here. I’ve got my own, but I’m not writing to share it. Instead I’ll tell you something you’ll all probably agree with: my first 10-15 minutes on the bike are the worst minutes of my life: stuff is sore and achy and I can’t breathe—can’t even curse right!—and these cars are trying to maim me.
But then I’ll catch my breath, the soreness leaves, and anything else that happens—even the bad stuff—anything else that happens is absolutely the high point of my day And the only way I can feel that good is to get on the bike.
Which is what I’m going to do now
Lloyd,
I relate. That first mile is tough. But as I sit here, my only regret is that I probably won’t ride today because I rode yesterday.
Five years ago, I completed four centuries. This year after the lead up to and getting a knee replacement, I struggle to complete a 50 mile ride, and I’m a physical wreck for a day or two afterward. Winter’s coming here, so outdoor training is becoming less available. Yet, I’m doing all I can to complete a century next year.
However, I have to tell you, whenever I complete a 35 mile ride, and a neighbor (younger) learns of my ride, they comment “I have no idea how you do that”
We keep going because road cycling is great exercise and a great sport.
As you get older you need more recovery time between training sessions and you need to incorporate strength sessions to stave off muscle loss as long as possible. So ride less, rest more and the next time you head out your legs will meet the challenge.
Kevin,
Thanks for sharing your insights.
Most everything about road cycling available for consumption is targeted to the younger. It doesn’t surprise me, nor does it discourage me. It makes sense, -bigger demographic. “Road Bike Rider” provides great advice for all ages, for which I’m very grateful.
I started cycling at age 63 because a four-level fusion in my lower back took away my other means of getting meaningful cardio workouts. Now, 10 years later, I can’t accomplish what I did even five years ago. Your continued contributions to RBR guide me in my desire to keep going in these latter years.
Thank you.
Ps. My wife thinks I’m crazy with the Cocoa!
Lots to consider here. Thanks Kevin!
Eventually, advancing age means less riding for everyone, even Eddie.