Lessons from Peaks Challenge: Part 2 – Training

Cycling and Life…the two are interconnected. So, when training and then actually attempting the Peaks Challenge Falls Creek, it stands to reason that I should have discovered a few things about life along the way. I did. These are those things…

I download the Peaks Challenge Intermediate volume training program from the Bicycle Network website. I figure I need to start somewhere and a professional training program has to be a better option than simply watching Rocky training montages. Still, I reckon those rising, emotional and motivational film scores are going to get anyone up a big hill. I look through the training program – it is a sixteen week program in a series of three weeks ‘on’, one week ‘off’ cycles. The program suggests beginning with about 8 or 9 hours a week and culminating in 18 to 20 hours of riding in the lead up to the event. But I’m sure it is written in a different language…

I have no idea what FTPs are, what a Five Zone Heart rate structure is or how RPEs work, for that matter. I consider, in my naivety, that training for 235kms and 4,000+ metres of climbing means simply riding more hills more often (how wrong was I). Kaye and I sit down together. We ponder. We Google. We discuss. We Google. We decide we get the general gist. We Google. We plan. It seems this training is about training ‘smart’ not simply training ‘more’, although the ‘more’ definitely builds throughout the program. There is ‘recovery’ built in, there is specific training on a range of focuses, all reaching a ‘Gonna Fly Now’ choral crescendo with the Peaks ride. With an inkling of understanding, something of a vague plan and a scheduled calendar full of promise tucked under my arm, I embark on the greatest training schedule of my life…

Generally I ride six days and have one day off. I love the idea of the Friday Recovery ride – titled Coffee Shop Ride, although I rarely stop for coffee. The riding time is vast and by the end of the three weeks I’m exhausted. I’ve ridden 42 hours in this time and I’m ready for a rest. Recovery week! Yeah. Then training increases, but I’m feeling it become easier and my body adapts. It’s tough but the balance is perfect.

I discover ‘cadence’ and specific cadence training – for me, this was the single biggest factor in improving my segment times and overall speed – working on higher and sustained cadence. I bought a cadence sensor, since the first few weeks I was trying to count cadence across one to five minute blocks in my head as I pedalled. Not as easy as many would suppose. I’d lose count or simply forget where I was up to. Or, worse, get caught in the cycling psychological manipulations. I recall once heading up Donna Buang, legs pushing, head pulsing, counting, 1, 2, 3, 4…26, 27, 29, 50…inadvertently rounding up, forgetting, then starting at what I would imagine I was up to. Silly me. Enter cadence sensor and suddenly the cadence is shown on my Garmin right in front of me. I’d train, try to maintain a steady or ‘at least’ cadence for 5 or 10 minutes, have a break, another block of 5 or 10 minutes and see how many of these I could do across an hour or two ride. I’d do some workouts where I’d try working up to 100+ rpms and feel like a little kid on a trike, out of control and pedalling faster than my legs could keep up. Gradually this got easier and I could increase or control the pedalling a little better. Times began improving, I was able to sustain a much higher cadence for longer and up hills and, at times without even realising, I would be able to smash a segment time. To other riders this may seem obvious, but this was all new to me – at some stage things are new to everybody. Overall, this changed my view of riding and my ability to improve.

Having a base in McCrae for a while – a caravan on the foreshore – gives plenty of opportunity and scope to train. There are opportunities to ride from home there and from there back again. Sitting in the background of the Rosebud/McCrae area is Arthur’s Seat, a short-ish but quite brutal 4 kilometre ride upwards at 8%. Could I get my time under 15 minutes? Could I go fourteen and a half? Could I even go under 14 minutes? Eventually hit 13:52 in February! Then, how many times could I do this hill in a row – in the end, three times was my best.

The scope for varied terrain – uphill climbs, lengthy flats, everything in-between – in circuits, coupled with the ability to consistently complete endurance rides to actually get to the beach, was so effective for building cadence and maintaining intense training.

By Week 13, after thirteen weeks of six-days-per-week training, I decided it was time to see what 4,000 metres of climbing felt like. With a little bit of planning (well, I set an early alarm…) I packed my bike and gear in the car and headed up to Yarra Junction. My thinking was to ride from Yarra Junction to Mt Baw Baw and back. A lazy 180kms. Now, I was aware that Baw Baw is one of the toughest rides to do in Victoria but I’d figured it is only a little under 7kms in length, so even if my legs are tired by the time I get to the actual climb, I should still be able to finish it. Logic. Hubris. Naivety. Sometimes a little naivety is good. And sometimes it borders on stupidity. Perhaps a teensy bit more research might not have gone astray. Three things I failed to take into account, all of which meant that the ride was, in my mind, such an endurance testament. From others’ viewpoints this may be seen as a ‘doh, Paul!’ moment. Firstly, getting to Baw Baw was no mean feat – there are some big hills even just getting to Tanjil Bren. Secondly, I did not consider the remoteness of this ride or the scarcity of basic elements such as water. I made it to Tanjil Bren, thinking I could fill my water bottles before proceeding on to Baw Baw. The signs suggested that the water from the tap in the park and at the sinks in the toilets was not for drinking. Wait…what? No water?

Tanjil Bren was about 75kms into the ride and 10kms from the start of the Baw Baw climb. On I pressed because, really, what were the options? Actually there probably were other options, but I conveniently chose to ignore those – I was only riding a bike anyway, no harm in that! Except maybe that if there was no water in Tanjil Bren, it is likely that there was not going to be any at Baw Baw, which meant that there was not going to be any water until I got back to Noojee. Mmm…I do get a little puzzled as to why these kind of issues don’t seem to be a particular problem at the time. Thirdly, the Baw Baw climb is unrelentingly steep. I could not believe the constant incline up to Mt Baw Baw, particularly after already covering the 84kms to get there. And I still cannot believe it. And what was worse, I did not at the time actually believe that I would be able to ride up this slope, it was so steep. At one particular section, I’m straining, thinking, “has this gotten steeper, surely that is not possible, I don’t think I can sustain it” – I had only ridden about two kilometres. Then I see a sign! Not a ‘sign’, but an actual sign, on the side of the road. A helpful sign. There are lovely, helpful signs along the climb that help give some orientation, some handy ‘perspective’ about altitude, how far I’ve got to go and, important for motivation, the state of the incline that I’m currently riding. The ‘helpful’ sign on the side of the road at this point suggested that I had 4.2kms to go and that the incline was a staggering 21%! Little wonder this is hard!

Nothing to do but to keep turning the pedals…turning the pedals…turning the pedals and try to ‘out-last’ the slope.

As it turns out, I did out-last it. It just so happened that on the top of the mountain there was a mountain bike event underway, so Mt Baw Baw’s pubs and shops were all open. I filled up my water, bought a Coke (miraculous riding ‘food’), ate a banana and an energy bar before recovering enough to consider the return ride.

The descent was treacherous, and the ride back arduous. I made it back to Noojee. More Coke (miraculous riding ‘food’). Then back to Yarra Junction.

What I took from this ride was a distinct appreciation of the work involved in my training to this point, as well as my resolve and ability to out-last the mountain, all positive elements in preparation for any successful mountain ride. But I also had a new, healthy humbling respect for mountains, mountain terrain and cycling-nutrition, essential steps towards the Peaks event.

It is dark, lights flicker and an aura builds. There’s a relaxed chill in the air. There are cars and people everywhere, tail lights flashing at random intervals, the clack of cleats, the ticking of wheels, scraping shoes popping in and out of pedals. I’m in Warburton. The car park is now being blocked off from any traffic, rumours are that there are too many people arriving and car parking needs to be preserved for the hospital. I don’t know where traffic control came from, but there are people pulling road diversion signs out of utes and switching on orange flashing lights, adding to the cacophony of flashing noise. It’s two weeks before the Peaks Challenge and this is the final Bicycle Network Peaks Challenge training ride. I say ‘final’ ride, but I haven’t been in one before – this is my first. And I’m anxious. I don’t often ride in groups. It’s only a training ride, not really anything official, just an open invitation to join others who are preparing for the Challenge of Falls and the Peaks. But there are cyclists pouring into the starting point; riders all over the place. I thought there would possibly be 20 or 30 riders, but there are closer to 200. I don’t even know how fast they all ride, but they sure look like they all ride faster than me. Plus, everyone seems to have ‘gear’, as though this is part of the Grand Tour…bikes, Garmins, helmets, bananas. I pump my tyres and make my way up from the football ground parking area to the road.

Eventually someone begins talking; there are a few volunteers from Bicycle Network who are leading the ride. I can’t really hear what they are saying. We clip in and head off. It all seems a bit random. Through Warburton and out towards Reefton. The speed is initially tremendous – red lights flashing incessantly, it is still quite dark, a huge line of riders all speeding off to the hills. I can’t drift back because I don’t really know how many riders are behind me or quite where I’m going.

But I am able to find and settle into a rhythm. I find a comfortable pace and realise I’m perhaps not as slow as I thought. I manage to stay with a group and learn some new terminology; ‘car-back!’, ‘car-front!’. Excellent – I’m sharp! Pretty certain I’ve mastered that quicker than most – ‘car-back!’ is when there is a car or motorbike approaching from behind and ‘car-front!’…? Well, see, you were able to master it quickly as well! We wind out and at about 20kms turn towards Reefton Spur and the climbing begins. We head up, and up, and up. For about 25kms. With some amazingly steep sections. It is a big challenge to be climbing so constantly, with a group, for such a lengthy period. For about an hour and a half. It is not until we reach the turn off to Lake Mountain that we get some downhill, some relief. I’m up for some camaraderie and it’s fabulous; a great distraction, there are some very humorous cyclists! And then we are by ourselves, racing alone, gaps emerging, spreading, as we descend into Marysville.

I try a quicker-than-normal riding break at Marysville. It can be so easy for the break to push out into a siesta. I’m mindful of that, so I’m quickly back on the bike and off to Lake Mountain. The start of this climb, out of Marysville, is arduous – the incline is 8 or 9 percent for roughly 5kms. But then it eases and I find a few riders to chat with. We splinter again as we reach Lake Mountain Rd and turn off and then settle again into a hill-climbing rhythm. The whole of the Lake Mountain climb takes me 1 hour 23 minutes – my fastest ever! It is getting tough, particularly after climbing up Reefton Spur. But I’m happy with my effort so far and the food and nutrition seems to be working well. I add some hydration tablets to my drink bottle and fill up only to realise, from the skull and crossbones in the picture on the wall, that this is not drinking water. I’ve carelessly wasted electrolytes. Fortunately someone has left randomly stacked litres of bottled water in the foyer of a toboggan hire shop and I manage to recover some water. But I’m down to my last tablets to get back to Warburton and up and down Donna Buang.

The descent is quick, quicker than I’d probably do on my own. There are a few smaller uphill climbs on the way back to Warburton – one in particular that is 2kms at 9 percent, one of those kilometres is at 11 percent – but otherwise its about 60kms of varying downhill. Another quick stop and I’m then on the road to Donna Buang. I start slowly, I have ridden about 140kms by this stage and feel the strain on my legs, that tired, burning sensation that has you questioning why you feel you need to do this. But after the first 7kms, I am able to settle back into that rhythm that I’ve built through training. I pass a few riders and a few riders pass me. There are none that seem to want to socialise at this point, which is fine by me. It is more about grinding away up this long and steep mountain, head down. It is arduous and seems like it will never end. But, like most things, it does. I’ve managed the 17kms this time in record pace and have done it in less than 90 minutes – 1:27:20 – the fastest time in the eight times I have ridden this mountain, even after the previous distance I’ve already covered. I’m ready for the descent, back again to Warburton, and the end. There are a few of us hobbling back to cars – the car park predominantly vacant. I load the car and sit in the drivers seat, checking my stats.

What a ride – 177kms in total, moving time 7 hours 49mins (elapsed time 8hrs 13 mins), 4,045m of climbing, average speed 22.7kph. What a day. First and last ‘Official’ Training Ride – done!

I’m ready to take on Peaks!