Crankology

A proven methodology for the procrastinator

Cram training for cyclists

By the time you read this, the snow will have disappeared and new life will be sprouting from the trees and poking up between the cracks in the sidewalk. For earthworms, songbirds and cyclists alike, spring is a time of hope and inspiration, and a spirit of optimism is in the air.

Or at least it was, until I looked at my backyard and saw the 10-cm layer of rotted leaves that I should have raked up last fall. This disgusting mulch covers my back patio and will require a shovel and a new level of personal fortitude to remove. I’m not sure I’m up for it, to tell the truth. Perhaps I can turn it into a game of some sort and trick the kids into cleaning it up for me.

While we’re on the theme of hope and inspiration (and indeed trickery), I know I’m not the only cyclist who approaches the spring and summer with grand plans. Every year I conjure up glorious visions of strength, stamina and speed. I think back to the days when I was single, unemployed and childless, and – by my own modest standards – pretty fast on a bike. These memories feel much closer than they are in reality. Every year I imagine recapturing some of that magic. Surely it’s within reach. All I need is a few good rides to kick-start the process, and I’ll be back on form, as they say in Merrie Olde England.

That’s the hope. But as many before me have observed wisely, hope is not a strategy. So what will my strategy be? I no longer have the time to train properly on a bike, what with my job and kids and marriage to tend to, so instead I’ll employ something that’s worked well for me in the past: cram training.

Now some of you will say that trying to replace a proper program of periodization over several months with the athletic equivalent of pulling an all-nighter simply won’t work. But you’d probably be the same people who would tell me that pulling an allnighter to learn a semester’s worth of European history wouldn’t work either. And you’d be wrong, because I did it (albeit 30 years ago) and I aced the exam.

This type of brinkmanship is not for everyone. You have to be comfortable with risk, uncertainty and stress. It’s a hellish journey. But it’s one that can deliver amazing results. If you’re interested in trying it, here’s how it works:

The first step is to procrastinate. I find this part easy, but not everyone shares my natural aptitude for this crucial component. Mrs. Cranky, for example, can’t do it. She becomes too anxious and can’t relax and enjoy the process of avoiding what must eventually be done. That’s probably why she goes through life with much less stress than I do, and why she’s achieved twice what I have, despite being five years younger than me.

But for those of us willing to embrace procrastination, it’s a wonderful feeling. There are so many ways to avoid training hard on a bike. The most effective way is not to ride at all, but that’s only one option. You can also choose to cut your rides short, stop for ice cream sandwiches every 10 km or delay leaving until you run out of time to do a proper training ride. With a little creativity, you can find all kinds of ways not to ride your bike hard enough or far enough.

The next step is to panic. This may or may not include experiencing an actual panic attack, in which you feel as though you’ve tilted your chair back, lost your balance and that you’re falling backwards. But even if it doesn’t reach that extreme, a feeling of panic is an essential stage in the cramming process. It begins with a rising sense of dread that you’ve run out of time and that there’s no possible way to make it up. The seasoned crammer, however, will recognize that this is a temporary state of mind that does not reflect reality. When it happens, lean forward in your chair, place your head between your knees and breathe deeply. It will pass. When it does, you’re ready for the final step: the cramming itself.

Leap up from your seated pose and run with urgency to your walk-in cycling closet. Jump into your bib shorts and squeeze your sedentary carcass into a jersey so tight it makes you look like a sausage straining in its casing.

Find the heaviest bike you own and set off for a long ride – at least three hours or more if possible. Do this every day for at least a week, until you reach a point of physical and mental exhaustion that will force you to take 24 hours off. Repeat this process again the following week. When you’re done, you’ll be 5 kg lighter and in good enough shape not to get dropped on the Sunday ride.

Is this the way to prepare for a successful summer season on the bike? Absolutely not. But it’s worked for me. With the right attitude and a bit of determination, I’m certain it can work for you, too.

How’s that for hope and inspiration?