Learning to breathe.

You can learn a lot from a rabbit.

I think, after all these years of doing it, that I do not know how to breathe correctly.  Astonishing!  Could it be?  This crept into my mind a while ago but just as quickly crept out again.  Then last weekend I was in the middle of a long climb on the Warbird, a climb that was difficult and had me right below redline a good part of the time.  And I became aware of the fact that I was breathing shallow and fast, mostly from the chest/rib cage area.

And I thought back to an article I read that, IIRC, referred to Eddy Merxx and spoke about his 'paunch'...his beer belly look that was a result of bringing into play his belly area to expand the capacity of his lungs.  Now for all I know, Eddy might knock down a beer or two or three and maybe it is a bit of that too, but I never forgot that.

So in the middle of the climb, I began to breathe deeply, consciously allowing my belly to expand, feeling the lungs go just a bit 'more', if you will, then expelling the lungs with a good push.  I found that I dropped farther away from redline and my suffering dropped down a notch.  I did not have a heart rate monitor on, but it would have been interesting to see if that was affected.

I just know that it hurt less and I had more room for harder, short efforts without tipping over the edge.  My legs felt better too, but mostly it was cardio bennies I was seeing.  The funny thing was that I had to really concentrate to breathe this way.  As soon as I stopped thinking about it, I stopped doing it.  As well, it did not feel natural when I was doing it.  It felt good in a way but bad in a way, like I was betraying what I knew how to do well from birth...as if I took two steps, then hopscotched the next one before the next regular step, etc.  Just not natural.

So I need to play with this more, but it seems there is science behind this, which actually does not surprise me.

Linky number 1  Linky Number 2

Now I figure it this way...the bigger the belly the bigger the breath.  Bring on the donuts and Fritos, I have a hill to climb.

Look at them lungs, huh? I am gonna crush the next hill.

The long and short of it.

One of the oft debated topics for MTB set up is crank length.  Typical lengths range from 170mm long to 180mm long, but the huge majority of crank arm lengths on MTBs is an industry standard 175mm.  Why?  No idea, really.  I have no clue on how this length was picked out, but it is ubiquitous regardless or frame size (most of the time) and as a result, rider height/leg length.

The thought here is to match the length of the two levers...or maybe three levers...or maybe one lever and a fulcrum or two...heck, I am just as clueless to mechanical engineering and how it relates to the human body as the next guy, but often a longer leg length points to a longer bicycle crank arm, at least for MTB use where high RPMs are not the norm over long distances (unless you are Fixie Dave...but NO ONE else is Fixie Dave but Fixie Dave so that is silly).

I ran 180s for YEARS and years, maybe from the early 90s on.  We all were on geared bikes then, no SS, etc.  I even ran 177.5s on one road bike.  This came from a suggestion from Doug Curtiss of Curtlo Cycles, he being very tall (at least 6'4").  He ran 190s if he could find them.  I was having some knee pain and he looked at me and said, "run a longer crank".  Now I am not sure where that idea came from...too much welding fumes, perhaps, but he had way more experience on a bike then I did so I jumped up to 180mm XT cranks and never looked back.  No knee pain either, so there ya' go.

I found that it worked well with my 'diesel' approach to climbing where I would get in a taller gear, slide back on the saddle, and 'dig in'.  Chug chug chug.  I really never found an issue with spinning as we all had triples and we rarely spun out the gearing in those days unless you were under gravity's hold on you.  If that was the case, we were just holding on for dear life (pre-suspension, you know).

So when I got back into riding after taking some time off from Martial Arts, I was right back on 180s.  Then, the bike testing gig comes along and guess what?  No one specs 180mm cranks on a stock bike.  So I was spinning these 'tiny' cranks and I noticed the loss of torque right away.  I ended up riding in lower gears and at a higher RPM but that became the norm and I got used to it.  After a while, only the Lenzsport (hardly ridden) and my SS had 180s.

Then I got the first SS test bike in with 175s on it.  I was concerned about losing all that leverage.  So then one day I led a group ride that was a few hours of loops around our local trails and at the end I found the results to be intriguing.  I did notice more effort on steep climbs, but I also felt like I could get the crank 'over the top' easier and I even felt like I was less tired afterwards.  Huh.  How about that?

Another few years of 175 cranks and now I am on NO bike with 180s, even my SS.  I begin to wonder if I am missing something, so on a recent build up of the Blackbuck to test some wheels, I went back to an old, trusty set of XT Hollowtech II 180 cranks.  I also geared a bit lower by 2 teeth in the front to get this bike more set up for difficult trail rides, thinking that the combo of long crank and low gear should make steep climbs or slow trails a breeze. Normally I run 34/21 on an SS and this was now 32/21 and the 180s.

Last night I got out on the bike for the '20 Mile Loop'.  Ed The Tall was testing the carbon Stumpy SS for me, so I was on the SS Blackbuck with the180s and low gears.  Pretty much sucked, that set-up.  Part of this were the long paved road climbs to get to the trail head (and this bike was not built for that stuff).  But when I hit the dirt, I would have my revenge.  It begins with an ugly grunt up a rutted road that is a grind on a single geared bike.  I figured I would be pedaling in tall cotton here with all those wise choices I made in setting up this bike.  Watch out Ed The Tall...here comes the wind.  No wind.  Well maybe a headwind.  Slooooowww and well, slow.  Hard, too.  Whaaaahhh???

I think a couple of things went wrong.  One being the longer crank gave me the overall result of a lower effective gear AND, two, I geared down at the same time.  I should have just run a longer crank with the 'normal' gearing OR the shorter crank with the lower gearing...not both.  Both in combo  created a dead spot in the crank rotation that was so big and long lasting that I could check email and text someone while I pedaled through it.  'BAAA-LUUMP...BAAA-LUUMP' etc.  My legs were WORKED and I was going slower.

The last ride on the Super Stumpy 'S-S' for me was on that same route.  My legs were slightly fresher but I was just getting over being sick so I was hardly 'strong', yet I was moving faster EVERYWHERE on this loop.  Now the 'S-S' is a fast bike in its own right but I also had begun to experiment with and refine my standing pedal stroke to where I was making more of a 'circle', less of a 'piston' action and I was surprised to find how my climbing speed increased. I need to get better at this as it was bringing in different muscle groups but I think once I get this figured out it will be a big step ahead for me.

I could not do that last night on the 180mm cranks.  Too big a circle...too much dead stroke.  Well, I COULD do it but, it felt like I was walking though an ankle deep, muddy field..pick your feet waaaay up and step, etc.  Now another note of interest is the comments from my buddy, mentor, and editor Guitar Ted, who states that the 'old timers' of single speeding said that 170mm cranks were better for SS use.  Really? I do not know ANYONE that even HAS a set of 170s.  And that wisdom comes with no information behind it, only that it 'works better'.  But I can see a point where it might allow a quicker, smoother rotation getting over and past TDC on the crank position.  Interesting.  However, I would think that gearing would need to be adjusted down a bit too.  Dunno if tiny cranks are in my future but it is something to try.

So guess what I am going to do for now?  I am going back to 175s on this SS build and I am not looking back at all.  The 180s will be dust binned till a longer legged person comes along....so ends an era, in some ways.

And that is the long and short of it.

That Fine Line

I obsess over corners.  No, not like the corner of the room, or the corner market, but rather that part of the trail that bends away from straight ahead.  Whether single or double track, fireroad or jeep road, when it turns twisty and begins to shuck and jive, I am in search of that fine line; the path of least resistance; the zen moment of less equals more...less brakes, less doubt, less indecision...more swoop, more flow, more grace.

It is what I yearn for and struggle to achieve and mostly it eludes me.  I keep in shape so I can ride well, but I do not chase speed as a rule so I can be at peace with being average there.  I am a very good downhill rider, but I have no plans on being the fastest guy to the bottom.  I can be beaten by a better rider and be OK with that.  Props to them.

But, the corner and the puzzle it presents is an ever changing, ever morphing, ever demanding mistress with a curving whip that taunts me with whispered phrases:  "Too much brake there."  "You missed that line by 3"...sloppy."  "Why did you not commit to the line you envisioned?  What are you afraid of?"

It feels so good when you do it right and so mediocre when you do it wrong.  So the few times I know I have nailed it leave a sweet trace in my brain and I long for that 'hit' again.  It is a slippery thing, that fine line.  It seems so easy but is not.  If I can do it once here and there, I can get to where I do it nearly all the time, yes?  No.  Well, at least not yet.

It reminds me of a saying I heard once:  "If a man's reach does not exceed his grasp, what's a heaven for?"  This heaven is filled with loose corners banked the wrong way, tight apexes pivoting around a scrub oak at the left elbow, and rapid left-right-left transitions that need a delicate yet strong hand.  It is this heaven I reach for and my grasp is tenuous at best.

Old Dogs, Old Tricks part III

I was following behind a very fit woman rider on a group ride the other day as we wound our way down a rutted and twisty singletrack.  She had a very nice bike, had the look of a very competent rider, and yet was barely moving down the trail....brakes on, arms locked, body nearly rigid.  This trail was not that hard and has very good flow, but she was making it sooo difficult and the only thing flowing was the sweat running in bullets down her face.

So what turned this fit, capable looking rider into a scared rabbit?  She did not trust her bike.  And this is not a 'chick thing'.  The guys that crash the most often on our group rides are the ones that trust the least.  They blame the tires or the fork set-up or the trail conditions, when really none of that is true.

A mountain bike is an amazing conveyance.  With its big tires, suspension (if any), gears (even if it's only one), and great brakes, they can be pedaled over a surprising variety of surfaces and conditions....if you believe they can.  If you trust the bike it will do its job nicely,  brakes will be used sparingly, and it will roll smoothly and flow under a relaxed rider.

If you do not believe, do not trust, then it all goes wrong.  Every obstacle is doom waiting to happen in the eyes of the non-believer.  Progress will be a continuous path of near misses and bobbles, all ridden with a death grip on the bars, brakes firmly on, body unable to move and adjust as it needs to.

No flow.

Trust your bike.  Obviously there are margins of safety here, so just letting go of the brakes and closing your eyes is a bit much, but the truth lies in between the imagined precipice of disaster and the bliss of Shangri-La.

Try this.  Slow down a bit on a trail that you know well, but one that causes you to struggle a bit.  Consciously use less brakes.  Put your fingers off the brake levers.  Relax your elbows and knees...eyes down the trail and let go a bit.  It will be hard and it will take time to trust, but you will have tiny victories...a corner taken with a smooth line, rock steps rolled down, sandy patches floated across.  Eventually the little victories add up to a better ride and they create habits that you will carry with you for years.

This Old Dog has learned to trust his bike, yet I still find myself doubting on occasion, using too much brake, wavering off the best line and drifting into the the path of self doubt.  Even Old Dogs can forget how to hunt every so often.

Trust your bike and you will become a better rider.

Truisms part one.

Ya know, those little sayings like "A penny saved is a penny earned"?  Those truisms like grandpa used to spout out; little bits of truth and wisdom, hard learned over generations and distilled down into as few words as possible.

I have some of those that may not be so well known, but work nicely for my purposes.  Here is one.  If something all of a sudden begins to work poorly that has been working well for ages, ask yourself "What changed?".

Example - for the past two weeks I have been working my way through some knee pain in the right knee.  That is the one I tore up in martial arts training so I am not surprised if it complains every so often.  This was a bit different.  It was hard to pin down the why and what of it.  Did I push too hard on a ride?  I do recall twice where I was working too big a gear for a quick rise in the trail and I had brief, burning pain under the kneecap...oops, time to shift down here.  I thought maybe that was it but the pain that was lingering was not in that location.  It seemed as much muscular as anything with an odd bit for referred pain to it.  Since nothing came to mind as to a cause, and riding did not seem to hurt any more than not riding, I was trying to work my way through it with the uneasy feeling in the back of my mind, that, if I could not figure out a cause here, maybe I was just wearing out and this was the first signs of diminished abilities?  That scared me a bit as I had not increased my miles or efforts lately.

I stayed off the SS but standing on the geared bike felt OK; so did sitting and spinning, but afterwards...pain and discomfort.  Then, it hit me.  I had forgotten the old adage, "What changed"?

New shoes.  Yep.  About the time this began I had done a 4 hour ride on some new shoes I am reviewing.  Could it simply be a cleat/shoe alignment thing?  How simple!  Why did I not think of that right away?  Last night I slipped into my old shoes and that was that.  Immediate improvement even though I could not feel any significant change in foot position between the two.  What a dope I am.

Truism #1 - If what's always worked before does not work any more, ask yourself what changed.

More truisms to come.

Old Dogs, Old Tricks part II

Last night I flowed.  I was moving down the trail like water spilling around the rocks in a streambed...not resisting, not rushing, not stumbling.  Only a smooth and peaceful motion over the path of least resistance.

Then I woke up in bed.  Drat!

However, I did put part two of my 're-edu-ma-catin' of singletrack technique into play - Turn before you see the turn.  Yeah, I know, kinda Zen and I have no real fascination with Buddhism outside of the lines in subtitled Chinese movies or Po's dilemma in Kung Fu Panda.

The idea is this...once you see the demands that the next turn/corner in the trail requires of you, it may be too late to get smoothly onto the line you need.  So you usually use too much brakes and lose speed as you overcorrect your way through the turn.  Preventing this requires that you initiate the turn-in before you can clearly see where you are going.  Hard to do.

And, 29ers are a bit slower steering so they require even more initial turn-in then a typical 26er.  They reward with increased traction and better cornering grip, but you need to adjust a bit.  Miss this part of a 29er's personality and you end up going slower, not faster.

Now this is not hard to do if the course of the trail is open and visible.  You still need to 'pre-turn' depending on speed, etc, but at least you can see what you are committing to.  It gets hinky when you need to do it in tall spring grass on a tight trail or around an increasing radius, off camber trail that falls away to the downhill side with a cliff to the inside shoulder.  Man, that is an act of faith worthy of Joan of Arc.

But, I was getting it done and the result was a smoother, faster, easier ride down the trail.  Flow.  Flow is the holy grail of singletrack.

And I was better at that on last night's ride then the night before and that is a good thing, even if it was only truly beautiful in my dreams.

Old Dogs, Old Tricks.

One of the things about a sport like mtn biking is that now matter how good you are, you can always do it better...ride smoother, ride faster, pedal more efficiently, clean that log trick this time, etc.  It is both a blessing and a curse since it allows for constant growth, both in the micro..."I need to hit that line just a bit to the left next time and stay off the brakes"...or the macro as in training harder to shed pounds/seconds/finish times, etc.  The curse?  Feeling like you could have always done that better and knowing it is true.


The other day I was struggling with the stupid habit of not looking far enough ahead down the trail.  It is an easy trap to fall into, and I had fallen big time.  I am not sure why I became aware of it, but there it was and it was messin' with my flow.


The deal goes like this:  You fix your eyes on a fast approaching corner or obstacle and close the gap, keeping your eyes on the target.  When you get there, still moving fast, you lift your gaze and look at the next section, something you are already into by this time, and then repeat the same thing, but by now you are not prepared for what is next and too much brakes or too little brakes and the ride is just a series of corrections and adjustments.  Your progress down the trail, instead of looking like a nicely curving line made of smooth radii and fast transitions, is more like a stitched hem from a crazed sewing machine...a straight line to a point in time, then a change in direction to another point, then another section, another point, etc. and so on and so forth.


So I began the hard work of retraining myself to look down the trail an appropriate distance for the speed and terrain, then KEEP MY EYES THERE, using memory and peripheral vision to get the bike over what is immediately in front of the wheels.  This is not easy to do and takes a certain amount of nerve since it asks you to trust your bike, your tires, and your chosen line to get you through as you ride mentally 'ahead of yourself'.


I am gettin' there and I am halfway between smooth-and-sweet flowy-ness and crazed Singer Sewing machine right now.  I am learning to trust and ride ahead of myself again and I can feel the difference when I get it right.  The bad news is I cannot always do it correctly, the good news is I can always get better and that is just another biscuit to dangle in front of this dog.

Focus.