Training in traffic can be a bit dangerous and it requires that you know what you’re doing and how to read and even dictate conditions around you. Over the past couple of years I’ve learned what does and what does not work well as strategies for dealing with traffic on my training rides and I want to share what I’ve learned on the off chance that it might help others.

Laws and Safety

Texas law and indeed the laws of most states require that cyclists ride “as far to the right as is practicable” when sharing the road with automobiles. This law is often interpreted to mean that the cyclist has to stay very close to the curb; ~2 feet or so, but that idea ignores the definition of “practicable.” As the cyclist and the one in the most imminent danger while riding, you have a responsibility to ensure your own safety according to the law. It is not practicable to invite mistakes from motorists.

There is no two ways about it; riding up close to the curb, in most cases, puts everyone in danger. Riding up close to the curb creates a vacuum of space that will invite motorists to encroach upon. If you give up almost all of the right-hand lane motorists coming from behind will believe that they have room to pass you and will pass far too close to you, creating a very dangerous situation.

Now, what is happening here is a very human thing. It is typical human behavior for a motorist to try and stay in his lane because the motorist usually feels “ownership” of that lane. If you give up 9/10 of the lane the motorist will feel invited to stay locked in his lane and transfer the issue of safety to the stupid cyclist on the edge of the road. In this situation, strong wind, a rock, bottle, or some other obstruction becomes a life-altering obstacle, as the cyclist has no room for maneuver. This dangerous situation is entirely the cyclist’s fault.

The remedy to this dangerous situation is quite simple. Pay attention to both the cycling law and human behavior and you have the answer. It is not practicable to ride so close to the curb. In order to protect both yourself and the motorists on the road you must ride deeper into your lane. When you do, amazing things happen.

By encroaching just a bit more into your lane you cause motorists to behave differently. Now, instead of trying to thread the needle, motorists coming from behind you will change lanes or almost change lanes in an effort to give you wide berth. This is what they’re supposed to do anyway and by you dictating the environment, they behave appropriately (almost all the time). The result is that everyone is safer. It should be noted that as your speed equals that of the motorists around you, practicable position becomes more central in the lane.

There are, of course, a few idiots out there that no amount of advisable riding practice will protect you from. I have been passed at less than 12″ by cars doing 50+ mph and have had some drivers use words and/or wild arm motions to indicate that I should be riding on the sidewalk instead of in “their” road. You can’t influence these sorts of idiots with good riding behavior. All you can do is perhaps take down their license plate number and report their dangerous behavior. If you get the chance, that is.

Roundabouts

On my rides I often have to negotiate a handful of roundabouts. Roundabouts are, in my experience, usually well designed with clear signage to indicate how everyone should use them. Despite the good plan, motorists turn into blithering idiots when they enter a roundabout and cyclists should beware.

Here’s an example of a typical roundabout from my training route. This figure indicates how things are supposed to work when a cyclist and a motorist enter at roughly the same time.

Things NEVER work out like this. It does not matter if the motorist sees you enter the roundabout or if they don’t see you; the typical path through and out of the roundabout is going to be like this:

Here again, most motorists think they own the road—all lanes— and a cyclist in the other lane is just a minor nuisance to be ignored while they negotiate the tiresome roundabout. What motorists don’t appreciate, however, is that a cyclist can negotiate a roundabout at a higher speed than can an automobile. So if the cyclist was behind entering the roundabout, she’ll likely be beside the automobile by the time they are exiting the roundabout.

Safety in this situation is entirely your responsibility. Just keep in mind that motorist IQs drop by 50 points when in a roundabout, so make your choices accordingly. Note also that no one EVER uses a turn signal when in a roundabout, so you’ll just have to make your best guess as to which exit out of a roundabout a motorist plans to take. Good luck with all that and be careful.

Confidence

These specific practices aside, nothing can keep you safer in traffic than confidence. Motorists, like everyone else in the world, respect confidence. Ride like you know exactly what you’re doing and that every move you make is exactly the right move. Do this and the motorists around you will behave far better and far more predictably. Here are a few tips:

Hold your line
Just as when you’re riding in a group, hold your line and keep a steady profile on the road. If you ride erratically or unpredictably, motorists around you will be 1) scared of you, and 2) angry at you. Your failure to hold your line makes life dangerous for yourself and everyone around you.

Use strong turn indications
Few things are reassuring to motorists around and behind you than a strong indication of when you plan to change lanes or turn left or right. As you near a road you plan to turn onto, indicate it with a strong arm motion and a pointing finger. Make your motion crisp and clear. A vague or weak motion is a dangerous motion.

Be deliberate and confident at stoplights
As you approach an intersection with a red stoplight, check behind you and then move into the center of your lane (if you stay to the side, you’re inviting a motorist to make a poor choice and pull up beside you!). If there are automobiles around you, behave as though you belong there in their midst. Being at a stoplight with a cyclist can be a little disconcerting for motorists, but less so if it appears that the cyclist knows exactly what (s)he’s doing. When the light changes to green, act confidently and competently to get back underway. Tentative action at this point invites poor choices from motorists and puts everyone in danger.

Changing lanes
If you’re approaching a left-hand turn on a busy multi-lane road, check behind you to gauge the appropriate moment and indicate your intention to move left with a strong, arm motion with a wagging finger pointing left. Make sure your intent is noticed and then move confidently over into the left lane. Here again, if you move safely and confidently the motorists around you will respect it. If you are tentative and appear inept you will only garner their ire.

Conclusion

The last section above is likely the most important in all of this. Nothing will keep you so safe as confidence while on the road. Confidence is universally respected, while tentativeness is universally met with contempt. And rightly so. Remember that you have great power to influence the traffic conditions and your own safety. Make wise, practicable, deliberate moves while riding in traffic and your rides will include fewer nervous moments and distasteful incidents. Good luck and keep the rubber side down.

I got up and did a quick inventory and dusted myself off. The results were pretty mild, actually. The scrapes to my body were on fleshy areas and only my right knee had a leak. My left hand and chin took the brunt of the force and though my glove was shredded, the hand was intact. My thick chin whiskers did fine duty protecting my chin, leaving only an annoying bruise and some mild swelling. My first ever crash on a road bike. All-in-all, not bad.

The folks in the group were very helpful and to my relief no one passed comment on how silly I looked or how every cyclist should know not to make a turn at-speed in dirt and gravel. By the time I got everything upright, checked out, and dusted off, the rest of the group had caught us and we started up again, en-masse. Only my bruised left hand had any effect on my riding comfort. No biggie.

Not an hour later, the group was strung out again. I opted not to stay with the fastest few, but instead just finish the ride at a decent pace. As I slowed to wait for a buddy of mine who was struggling a bit today, I looked back over my shoulder to see how far back he was and as I did my line drifted toward the side of the asphalt road and my front tire slid off the surface layer onto the shoulder. This time I went down on my left side and this scrape felt a bit worse than the previous one.

My buddy came around the corner just after to find me on my back with my fists in the air, shouting, “Really!?” at the cycling Fates. I was pretty livid at that point and just wanted to crawl under a rock. With this crash I had punctured my front tire and it was hissing at me with derision. Luke (my buddy) was kind enough not to laugh or snicker. Instead he got my bike turned over and offered me a spare tube as I was checking myself out. This was a more painful crash, with a hip pointer and some serious road rash on my inner elbow. Oh, and again with the bruised hands. Just shoot me now.

Go my tube replaced, chain back on, and then back on the road. We still had a few miles to do, but we just rolled it home at a moderate pace. Mindful of gravel and road edges, of course.

Epilogue

They say bad things come in threes. Yesterday I did the last half of my ride in low gear, as my rear durelier cable frayed and I couldn’t shift. Today I had 2 crashes so that’s 3; I think I’m set. The danger has, I hope, passed. I’m ready to be done with this little run of bad luck (or is it ineptitude?) and to get back to normality. Hey, I can hope right?.

I mean, I don’t know what was not to like: it was 55F degrees, the wind was blowing 20 mph with higher gusts, and like I mentioned; it was raining the whole time. Perfect day for a training ride.

Being alone and all (didn’t even see another cyclist the whole time I was out) gave me time and solitude to reflect on the details…I mean joys of training in the rain. On the surface, it may appear that training in the wind and rain is pretty much the same as training in the wind (no rain). But appearances can be deceiving. Let me explain.

Refreshment

Just as with any other training ride of more than 1 hour, you’ve got to eat and drink while training in the rain for more than 1 hour. I typically take in 200 calories/hr, either from sandwiches or gels or a combo during the ride. Eating with rain is pretty much the same as without. Drinking, however, is a bit different. In the rain, road grime is constantly being thrown up onto you, your bike, and anything attached to you or your bike. This includes your water bottles.

One of the neat things about drinking from your bottles in the rain is that your intake is augmented by all sorts of new and seldom-ingested nutrients. These nutrients are found in the road grime that encrusts your bottle spout…the part you put into your mouth every few minutes. I’m not sure what nutritional value or benefits can be found in road grime, but one thing is certain: it is damn gritty and tastes like ass.

Because of the grit and ass-taste, I typically attempt some sort of spout wipe maneuver (SWM) before taking a sip each time. The most accessible and “clean” spot is on my jersey under my arm. This is where I start out with the SWM, anyway. I’m pretty sure that my underarm area is not what we’d call a sanitary option to road grime, but at least it’s not gritty. The thing about using a single location for your SWM is that after about 3 times, that area is now just as encrusted with sand and grime as the bottle spout is. So quickly you’re faced with diminishing returns. Other locations for the SWM are soon needed. Improvise. Good luck with that.

Anyway, bottle sips in the mid to latter portions of your ride are invariably accompanied by one or two forceful spits as you work to clear your lips, teeth, tongue, and gums of gritty road grime. Don’t worry about what you’re losing in those spits; surely though the road grime is purged, the road “nutrients” stay behind. The appearance of you wiping your bottle spout on various locations of your anatomy and the occasional eruption of clear or sports-drink-colored mist must to onlookers be pretty hilarious. So it’s win-win.

Apparel & Comfort

When you’re training in the rain, especially in the wind and cold and rain, comfort takes a backseat to…well, discomfort. I typically opt for arm warmers when training in the rain. Some cyclists go with the addition of leggings, but I hate to wear long tights on the bike and opt to display my legs’ glorious nakedness. Whatever you end up wearing, though, know it will within minutes be entirely soaked and, by the end of your ride, covered in road grime (PRO tip: don’t wear your white bib-shorts and best jersey).

For me, the worst part of rain-training discomfort is the sloshy, water-bucket-like sensation from my shoes and the constant squish/suck feeling that embraces my feet throughout the ride. But you gotta deal with it. There is no escaping the sensation so you might as well pretend that it feels good…like walking in wet sand on the beach. Yeah, just like that and not at all like continually stepping in cold, wet dog poop or the unwholesome mud on the edge of a fetid, slimy pond.

After riding for a while in the rain, you’ll likely note the different feeling coming from your chamois area. Each time you stand up to pedal and then sit back on the saddle, there’s a telltale squish and that unfamiliar feeling. Over the next couple hours of your ride, that feeling will become very familiar. Again, it may help to pretend the feeling is from something else. Pretend you’re sitting on the side of a swimming pool…or doing something else where a squish on your anus is pleasant and not at all icky. Yeah, I have no suggestions here.

When you get back home after your ride and if you’ve left your legs bare, you’ll have the most magnificent cyclist’s tan. Before showering, admire yourself in the mirror and note the beautifully razor-sharp lines (especially at the sock line). Note how it’s very PRO-looking and how rugged and devil-may-care you look. Note also that in the shower after a bit of a lather, the magnificently PRO tan will magically wash away. Avoid the temptation to re-examine yourself in the mirror after the shower. Just keep that initial image in your mind.

Bike & Equipment

When you train in the rain, your bike gets pretty trashed. Resign yourself to that fact. Avoid looking down at your bike to note the increasing layers of ugly, gritty, dirty road grime accumulating on the surfaces. Avoid thinking about how that grime is getting into the little crevices and nether regions of the very important and very expensive drive train. Avoid thinking about what damage might be occurring to this $2,000 (or $4,000 or $12,000) bike you bought with your hard-earned money. It was your choice to get out onto the dirty road in a driving rain. All of that grime will just have to wait. Don’t think about it while you’re riding. Go home after and wash the heck outta your bike. Then maybe do it again just to be sure.

Also, if you’re ultra rich and have 2 bikes, ride the lesser of them for training in the rain.

Conclusion

When it’s a ride day I train rain or shine or wind (usually) or cold, so I have plenty of experience riding in the rain…and wind and cold. In my opinion it’s just what you do when you’re training (rather than joy riding). In fact, in summer a rain day can be a pretty welcomed and refreshing change from the sunny, 100F heat here in Texas. Regardless of the temperature, training in the rain brings special joys and requirements that I wish more cyclists could experience. It is sort of disheartening to be out training in mildly uncomfortable weather and see not a single other cyclist doing the same. But then it’s kind of a cool affirmation at the same time.

Don’t miss out on these joys! When it’s time to ride, and the rain and wind are doing their thing, get out and see what you’ve been missing. Some of my best rides have been in the rain. I’ll bet some of yours await there, too. So do it. Maybe tell me about how it went.

Today six of us broke away around the usual spot and within 20 minutes two had fallen away. The four of us kicked it up and had fun on the fast descents and rollers in the first part of the course. Aside from myself, there were two Texas Flyers riders and someone I had not seen before. He was keeping pace just fine and that, in addition to the fact that he rode a high quality bike and was sporting good, matching kit, I assumed he was a strong rider. Besides, he looked well trained.

His name is Luke (sp?). We struck up a conversation while recovering after a particularly hard stretch and I noticed his thick Eastern European accent. I asked and he mentioned he was from Romania. He also mentioned that this was only his 5th ride back after a long layoff due to illness. Turned out that his “illness” was having surgery to remove one of his kidneys 3 months ago. I was pretty impressed that he was keeping pace, as cycling in those hills at a fast pace is not something just anyone can do. Especially after a few months layoff after major surgery. He then amazed me a bit more, noting that just last November he broke his neck and suffered other injuries in an auto accident. So 5 months after a major accident, broken neck, followed by having kidney removal surgery, he’s on his 5th ride back and hanging with the fast group (okay, the “faster” group). But wow.

Anyway, the four of us made it out and back through the really tough hills, even having a couple sprints along the way, and folks started peeling off toward their respective homes. Luke had come from the very start of the ride, as had I, so we did the last 8 or so miles by ourselves. It was along there that he added some details to his story. Turns out that while receiving treatment and recovering from his auto accident, the doctors gave him some grave news. They’d discovered cancer. It had destroyed one of his kidneys and they were pretty sure that it was getting into other organs. They’d have to remove the one kidney as a start once he’d recovered from the accident. So he had that surgery this past January.

Later this week Luke goes back to start a battery of tests to try and discern how he’s really doing. As of now, he has no idea what his prognosis is. So he’s out on his bike, gutting it out through the hills in the wind with folks who haven’t recently broken their necks; who haven’t recently had a kidney removed; who are not having to deal with the knowledge that any day could bring devastating news. He has no idea how long he’ll be able to ride a bike, he just knows he can do it today. So that’s what he did.

So then it was my turn to turn off and head toward home and we exchanged farewells. He said he hopes to be back and see me at next week’s ride. I sure hope to see him.

• 20 mins warmup at about 50% to 70% PE
• 40 mins at 90% – 100% PE (don’t stop, don’t slow down, don’t quit!)
• 40 mins at 70% to 80% PE “recovery”
• 20 mins at 90% – 100% PE (don’t stop, don’t slow down, don’t quit!)
• 10 mins warm-down

My aim for this sort of short/medium workout is to ramp it up to a high level of output and keep it there for a while.

I’m not sure if there’s a term for this sort of workout, but it’s kind of the opposite of an intervals session. I do my intervals a couple times a week, but this sort of effort is what suits my physical capabilities far better. I’ve always been the kind of endurance athlete that can get my engine up to a certain stressful level and then keep it there for extended periods. I’m compelled to train to further develop that sort of thing and I don’t feel guilty about it at all.

What made me think to do this today was reflecting on Fabian Cancellara’s flabbergastingly epic performance at Sunday’s Tour of Flanders. Fabian has what Paul and Phil (Versus’ cycling sportscasters) call a 12 cylinder diesel engine. He can get his engine up to a very high level and then just ride away from everyone…and keep riding away for extended periods of time. It’s no wonder he’s a perennial TT world champion.

Cancellara’s inspiration aside; with 30 to 40 mph winds out, nothing I did today was going to be pleasant. I figured intervals would just lead to frustration (20 mph into a headwind for a 99% effort…I mean, why even bother?). The diesel thing was just the ticket. And I left it all out on the road.

I was riding on blacktop and looked further on down the road and noticed the same yellow tinge was laying on the black road surface. Awesome, pollen was that thick. No wonder I’d had a little nagging cough and congestion for the past couple days. And I was out in it on a windy day, training and breathing hard. I started to feel a little powdery and itchy (psycho semantic, not due to any real stimulus). Yuck.

I started to notice (because now I was looking) that yellow was tainting every surface around me, which was a bit disconcerting. When I had gone over the lake dam, done my loop of Grapevine and had crossed back over the dam, I came to a long, straight section where I could see pretty far down the road. In the distance, it looked like there was a strange fire somewhere and bright yellow smoke was filling the air. Yep, the oak trees were just filling the air with billowing clouds of pollen. I looked out at the lake, and it had a yellow sheen on most of its surface, all of which meant that I had that stuff all over me and in my nose and eyes and ears and who knows where else.

Getting to where the oaks were the thickest (they’re all over, actually) I was right in the middle of solid pollen clouds. The oak tree flowers were whipping around in the high winds, releasing their cache. I wasn’t particularly suffering from allergic reaction or anything, but it just didn’t feel good to know that I was inhaling huge quantities of that yellow dust. I did the rest of my ride away from the lake, but never did shake that feeling of breathing thick clouds of pollen.

Hello spring. Hello yellow plague. Yuck.

Here’s a look at the conditions during yesterday’s ride:

And this is what I’ll be riding in tomorrow evening:

It has sometimes been easy for me to justify putting off a ride to the following day due to extra-windy conditions, but I’m working to put that behind me. Wind, though it is the bane of all things cycling, is a fact of life; especially for those of us who live in a somewhat windy place on earth. There’s simply no getting around it and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna ride my indoor trainer to hide from a 20 mph wind 5 days a week. That is embarrassing silliness.

More important than this, though, is the fact that it’s not as if I have to ride my bike. In actuality I get to ride my bike, which is something of a privilege and one easy to forget. I’m one of those lucky enough to have the good use of my two legs and in good enough health to be able to push myself in profitable and enjoyable exercise. Not all are so lucky!

Some folks would probably trade anything for the chance to get to run or jump or ride into a stiff headwind just once, or just once more! I get to do something others might kill to do and I think I need to remember that fact more often. Especially when I’m worried about how hard it might be riding into the wind on a training ride.

Cycling is fun, but if I were in it just for the fun I’d trade my road bike for a beach cruiser and ride around the neighborhood at 7 mph, waving and chatting with folks working in their yards. No, I’m not in it just for the fun. Like any good masochis… er, cyclist, I’m in it for the suffering, too. I’m in it for the battle, for the struggle, and for the victory at the end of each day’s effort.

There are few things in life sweeter than emerging on the other side of a hard-fought struggle with one’s life intact; knowing that the discomfort, pain, damage, even physical or emotional agony can be added to the progress and gain side of the scale. It’s called winning. Those of us lucky enough to engage in the daily trials and suffering of training know that we’re every day better than the last. That we are winning every day.

And that’s priceless. Just ask someone who used to be able to do so, but now cannot.

I get to ride. When it’s blowing 20 and 30 mph I get to ride my bike into the teeth of that wind. And I’m a fool and an ingrate if I shrink from it. We all are, if we shrink from it. I need to remember this fact and I hope you might, too.

My long, cold winter rides and the hours upon hours riding the trainer must have paid off, as my typical average speeds are up 1.5 to 2 kph over this time last year. Intervals workouts are likely responsible for my improved comfort with applying more force to the pedals these days. It’s just fun to see progress of any kind. I’ve had the flu and this, combined with plenty of awful weather, has kept me from the Sunday group ride for the past couple weeks. I’ll be glad to get back into the group in upcoming weeks.

Picked up a new saddle (Specialized Romin SL – white) that I’m really enjoying. It’s light and hard and far more comfortable than my RavX Gel saddle. Highly recommended. Also got a new pair of polarized cycling shades. They’re light enough (yellow) to wear in the early morning or twilight and they darken when the sun is bright. Fit is good, too.

I’m getting excited about the approaching warmer weather and the regular training that is now beginning. Yay spring!

It didn’t help matters that I did my best impression of Nu Fred during the early portion of the ride. When I decided to eat my PB&J sandwich, I struggled getting the baggie open and did a very poor job holding my line. The riders on my left and behind me took, I’m sure, a very dim view of my antics. I’m sure that colored their opinion of me for the rest of the ride. After that episode they moved around to find alternate positions in the group. Rightly so. I spent the rest of the ride in a bit of a self-conscious funk.

What I didn’t know, and what most of the others apparently did, is that when the two guys wearing matching white team uniforms leaped to the front about 8 miles in, it meant that we were in for some pain (should we choose to go with the leaders…which I always do). I was told later that they were, respectively, Cat1 and Cat2 racers for their team (translation: monsters, of a sort). At first, these two kept the pace just at bearable and most of us hung on just fine. This is fun, I remember thinking. What I didn’t appreciate at the time is that we were all going with the wind, which had been building little by little over the first hour.

At the western-most extremity of our course we made our turn back toward home. And into the wind. I was at the front and decided to do a pull as everyone formed up into a neat echelon behind. After a couple minutes I drifted back and though we’d be doing turns, but when I got to the rear of the echelon (now just 7 riders) it just pulled away from me. The racers were on the front and they had dropped the hammer. I labored for about 2 minutes about 5 yards off the back, trying to catch the rear rider, but 5 yards became 10. Became 50. I gave it my best to gut up and bridge, but I never got any closer.

For those of you scoring at home, this is the same place I (and a few others) got dropped a few weeks ago, as detailed in an earlier post. One day I’ll remember to save some energy for this spot. Humph.

I had left the rest behind, meaning I was in no-man’s land. I could have slowed to allow the rest to catch up, but I didn’t. I thought the front group might get caught at a traffic light, allowing me to catch. Never happened. I eventually caught up with 1 guy who was dropped and we waited for 3 more to catch up and did the next 20 miles or so together. Eventually I was left as folks turned off toward home and did the last 10 miles or so alone, into the wind…and yes, uphill. Got home nackered and completely demoralized. Serves me right.

There’s nothing remarkable about all of this, I know. This is just how it goes on group rides. But it’s far more enjoyable to write about it here in melodramatic fashion than it was to live through. I definitely gotta get over my Nu Fred tendencies and look forward to when I can hang with the racers. Got work to do.

I’ve missed the Texas Flyers Sunday group ride for the past 2 weeks (weather been sucking! Snow and hail; no foolin’!), but 3 weeks ago was a nice one. There were only about 8 of us and we stayed together for the most part for the whole ride. I particularly enjoyed the steep hills that time. Dunno why. In particular, Hilltop Rd.—the steepest and scariest of all of them—was pretty darned fun. I sprinted out and charged up at top speed. You know, just to shame the “real” cyclists in the pack. Anyway, it was a fun ride and I look forward to better weather and a more regular attendance.

Still putting in 2 to 4 hours on Saturday and I get a couple odd 1 or 2 hour workouts on the indoor trainer during the week. I will be SOOOOO glad when there’s enough daylight in the evenings for me to head out on rides after work. C’mon daylight savings time!

Maybe after this weekend I’ll post a pic of Hilltop Rd. hill. It’s so fun.