Vancouver isn't cursed with your average Canadian cold season. It’s
wet and it doesn’t normally freeze much during the winter. Our
riding season is typically year round but there are a couple of months some
years when the snow reaches low down the mountainsides and we can’t
always access our addiction: the North Shore. From late December through
into February riding becomes a bonus rather than a daily expectation.
Each year during this lay-off I tend to hit the turkey and gravy train
and bulk up on body fat to ward off the cold weather. Then as riding
season beckons I start to worry about all that extra insulation I’m
dragging around - as I anticipate those long climbs to our trail heads. When
did I get so fat? I should have been more aware… I know better
than that… I feel like I’m moving soooo sloooowly… My
buddy “the
lung on legs” is gonna make me pay. I suppose maybe this year
I could just shuttle all season…
Mid December on Eagle. Four
Lost Souls. The take-offs were great…. Photo: John
Evoy Rider: Greg Bergen.
But as I've gotten older I’ve gotten craftier and for
the last three years I’ve had a “plan.” Come January
1st I sign up for the “Test
of Metal” in Squamish and June 14th becomes the
target date for ultimate fitness. The 'Test' for the average guy is
4 to 5 hours of hell on a bike. Sixty-seven kilometres of lungs on
fire, leg cramps, endos, mud in every orifice and the realization that the
guy in the lumberjack shirt and cut-offs is dropping you like a bad habit.
Now I’m not really what you would call a cross-country or even an
all-mountain rider, but I’ve come to realize that riding Fromme, Eagle
and the Woodlot requires a level of fitness just to get to the trailhead. So
I do the time because I know that if I’m armouring up on the 7th switchback
and my knees are saggy and I can’t get my heart rate to drop, it’s
going to be a “poor to dangerous” ride. How many people
are actually confident dropping into Upper Oilcan over that nasty stump while
feeling weak-kneed and light-headed? I’ve seen a few guys pile
in hard with the most beautiful swan dives off that stump because their riding
groups were on the move and their personal fitness was lacking.
Rear Rider: Greg Bergen (I’m
commonly known as rear rider). Photo: Rob Neudorf Front
Rider: Bart Gould.
The bulk of my “training” is done on my freeride bike. I
like to dangle the carrot of a sweet downhill to help break through the “why
am I awake when the world’s still tucked in bed, warm and oblivious?” barrier. A
lot of days early in the season, the rides start with that “I’d
rather be at the dentist” mentality but somehow they rarely end with
the same attitude. That extra insulation doesn’t disappear over
night and it’s all about getting out when there are a million other
things to do that seem a lot more appealing. Once you’re out
there the inner whining fades away and the ride takes on a life of its own. So
many of those painful 6:30 am starts - going uphill in the dark - turn into
rides to remember and are the building blocks of a great season.
I’ve tried the heart rate monitor route and scheduling my “training” rides
in my calendar but seriously does anyone really enjoy a life that is that
structured? Me? I prefer chaos; controlled chaos, but chaos nonetheless. Structure
limits expression and kills any opportunity for “life in the moment.” So
my experience says no notes are kept on heart rate changes, times, mileage
or even days out on the trail. Actually if anyone is looking for a slightly
used heart rate monitor…
Photo: Greg Bergen Monitor: By
Timex.
No reasonable offer refused… I’ve found that I know
my heart rate is fast when it’s pounding in my ears. It’s
slow when I’m sleeping.
So now my
approach to losing the bulk is more haphazard. I call my various
riding crews and arrange one or two rides a week with each. Riding with
different people over the course of a week is vital for me. It keeps things
fresh and everyone you ride with has their own set of biases. I ride with
gap jump crazies, steep & techy rock face riders, balance guys, guys that
charge everything, guys that stop to talk over every obstacle, guys that flow,
climber guys, guys that aren’t guys (girls), guys that whip me, guys that
work their tail off to keep up and I enjoy every ride. Four rides per week
seems to be the magic number for me. If I don’t get out four times
then my goal of fitness in a backhanded, “Hey, when did that happen?!” kind
of way, never seems to materialize. Most of my rides, (2-3/week) are focused
strictly on enjoying the ride but preparing for the Test requires one epic every
other week of 4 to 5 hours in the saddle. I usually knock off several laps
of Burnaby Mountain (long, steep up / moderate down) or a long road ride on the
spindly bike and I’m golden. Obviously, I build up to longer distances
and faster riding as the extra insulation slowly evaporates.
Meet the “Lung
on Legs”. How many guys do you ride with that can stay in the saddle
from their car to the top of the Woodlot? Yes, the creek bed too! Rider:
John Evoy Photo: Trevor Kerr.
Now the key to staying on the track to fitness is pretty simple; accountability. Not
nagging, in your face accountability but rather, “I don’t want
to leave my riding buddies hanging,” accountability. If I’m
the driver to the trailhead or can work in some other aspect of requirement
where the ride needs me, then bailing just isn’t an option. From
our end of town taking the H.O.V. lane on the highway to the Shore can halve
the travel time. That means traveling in packs or pairs to access the
fast lane. If
buddy doesn’t show, it’s more than a casual “we’ll
get with him next time.” He’s screwed up the whole program
and he knows it. It seems a little twisted but I see that as an opportunity
for me to work the accountability angle and keep myself on track. I’m
there with all excuses filed.
The results of consistent and regular “training” are undeniable. I’m
a firm believer in time on my bikes. My bikes and I spend a lot of hours
working things out both from a fitness and a skills perspective. My wife
calls my bikes “Precious” in that creepy voice that Gollum used
when describing the ring in “Lord of the Rings”. She obviously
has some deep seated issues with the time I devote to riding, but I like to
think a little good natured abuse from the wife is normal. When I’m
riding a lot I have a “feel” for exactly how much traction I can
expect going into a corner hard, or torquing up over an ugly green root mass. I
know if my momentum will allow me to crest a rise on a hairy balance move or
float a rock garden.
Working through the ups
and downs of Da Plow at Ledgeview. Rider: Greg Bergen Photo: John Evoy.
A few years back I spent a season at Whistler and skied 120 plus days. The
results of time spent are similar on the slopes to what they are on your bike. When
I went powder skiing in a gladed area, I had the mind set to choose any line
I wanted and make it happen. These days I spend maybe 10 days on the
slopes and although my skills are more or less still there, my mind set is
not. The
trees on those same runs now will totally dictate my route for me. In
the day I wouldn’t give it a second thought, now I have visions of becoming
one of those cartoons where the skier and tree have gotten up close and personal. In
the same way, time on the bike allows me to choose my path with confidence. Training
time is exactly that, training time. Use all that unstructured time to
work on route selection, traction, momentum, and balance and do it all while
feeding off the energy of your riding groups. The result of fitness and
skills development this time each year is a guarantee that the new season is
going to rip.
Factoring in the standard 3 week hacking cough and cold, über-ugly weather
and a few motivational setbacks, race day always comes too quickly, but I usually
make a decent account of myself. The real prize is that I’m
a mountain goat for the rest of the freeride season.
Greg Bergen
How do you get ready for riding season?
Pass on your tips or any comments
about Greg's article this-a-way.
