Last night was my big club ride and as I wrote I would do yesterday, I moved my saddle forward (towards the front wheel) 4mm but kept the nose raised slightly from dead-level. Sunday I had moved it back about 8mm and nosed it up just as a fun little experiment to see how it would feel because I felt just a little bit arched in the back. Prior to that move, I had my bike set up so that I was in the perfect position over the pedals and from the drops, hoods and bar tops but I changed that to see what it would be like to be stretched out a little more.
My initial conclusion to the experiment was that the nose up was helpful in opening my hips up but that the saddle was just a little too far back and though it definitely stretched me out nicely, it was just too much.
The change last evening amounted to splitting the difference with the saddle location while leaving the saddle at the same angle (off level, nose up).
My final conclusion to the experiment, unfortunately, will require another move this evening though because my initial reaction to the nose being raised was a bit naïve and incorrect.
This is the important part of the post for those interested…
First, a little bit of background about the ride yesterday… I was 2/3’s of the way done with my warmup when I passed my buddy Phil heading out with a tandem and several other cyclists from the slower group (15-17 mph average). My legs were feeling quite smoked still from Sunday’s 75 mile adventure so I wasn’t looking too forward to a 22-23 mph effort with the main group (they ended up over 25 mph – good God!), so I told Mike that I was going to head out with Phil and turned around… When I got to the group, Phil and the tandem had taken off to blaze their own way at a faster pace – which meant that I had some catching up to do but they were already out of eye-shot and around a corner so I had no idea how much I had to make up. I reached for the drops and took off as fast as I could sustain. When I rounded the corner I had about a mile to make up so I set to it. I was up between 22 & 23 mph until I caught them about 5 miles in.
In other words, I’d just spent about 14 minutes giving her everything I had in the drops so I was able to evaluate how I felt, at least in the drops… The saddle position wasn’t bad but the nose up had to go. As one might imagine, having the nose up and being in the drops, as far down as I have them on my bike, put just a little too much pressure on Mr. Happy.
For the rest of the 33 ride we maintained a fairly steady 21 mph and the tandems (we picked up another one) did a lot of pulling so I spent quite a bit of time on the hoods, and that’s where I noticed the plus side of having the saddle nosed up… It kept me in the perfect position to ride on the hoods. My back felt straight and strong, there was no pressure as described earlier (ahem). I felt incredibly well supported by the saddle.
So here’s the latest little twist to the conclusion: I ride with my bar somewhere in the middle of the average road cyclist and the pros so I have a pretty long way down to the drops. Also, my hoods do not sit on top of the bend of my handlebars, they extend on the same line (see photo). Because I do ride so much in the drops and I want it to be comfortable, I have to take my saddle back to level and re-evaluate. However, for those who tend to ride in a more upright fashion, riding with the nose of the saddle up may be just what the doctor ordered. Don’t be afraid to give that a try, just remember, we’re not talking about huge moves here.
And speaking of huge moves, Tracey Wilkins, AKA the Springfield Cyclist, commented to suggest that moving the saddle back should be accompanied by lowering it as well. Also, that smaller moves would have been more, um, intelligent. He’s right on both counts. There are two reasons for my divergent attitude. First, I had my multi-tool with me so I could have moved it back if I’d felt any discomfort (I didn’t). Second, when this is all over, within the next couple of weeks (after my LBS owner gets back from his cycling vacation in Spain (or was it Italy), I’ll be getting a full Body Geometry, Specialized approved, fitting… I literally can’t screw my bike up enough that the fitting won’t cure.
The initial post that started this is here.
I read a post the other day that jumped to the incorrect conclusion that cycling is a sport for skinny men in super-tight clothes. It’s not, but skinny helps. Gender? Not so much, cycling is all about legs and drive…
What you see, and assume:
You see people, generally men, like me, thin and muscular, tree trunks for legs, ripped calves that show every nook and cranny of every muscle under taught skin. You see us in clothing that seems impossibly tight and possibly a bit too revealing. You see us on bicycles that cost enough money that you cannot possibly imagine wanting spend that kind of money for a freaking bike. You see us pushing those bicycles, often in packs of ten to thirty deep, at speeds you have a tough time wrapping you head around over distances that you think border on the insane (or stupid).
Most importantly you assume that all of this, including the speed, just comes naturally.
After you see this spandex spectacle, you naturally jump to the conclusion that you’ll never be able to attain such things and therefore we are some exclusive, elusive or even pampas and sexist group.
To make things worse, after you finally decide to get off the couch and try to jump in on our club ride (the advanced one, with the high-priced carbon, with a bunch of guys whose jerseys match their bikes), you are dropped within the first few miles and assume that we don’t care about the new guy/girl.
To a degree, you’re right, we (they) don’t care about you, but not because you’re a woman, or you’re fat or you’re a noob. Most advanced groups, including the one I ride with (which happens to be a lot friendlier than most I’ve heard of) don’t care much to help you fit in or keep up. Once you get into the faster groups the dynamic changes, the onus is on you to keep up. In the good groups, your ability to ride your bicycle well and help the group is your ticket in. If you can’t fit in and help the group, you will be left behind. You will not be welcomed in.
What you don’t see or are failing to grasp…
Personally, if I have the legs on a particular day, I will help a noob by dropping back to give them a wheel and a chance to get back to the group, but that’s a rarity indeed… Normally I’m just trying to hold on for dear life myself – as are most in the back, so if you fail to keep pace, the chance that there’s a horse back there to help you is somewhere between slim and none. I should know, I’ve only ever managed to finish with the lead group in our ride (where the field is winnowed from 30+ cyclists down to five or six), one time in two years. In other words, damn near everybody gets dropped.
More importantly, you’re failing to understand that cyclists don’t grow on trees. I started out big like you – twelve years ago with running. I picked up cycling 2 years and 5 months ago. Funny, I didn’t see you there with me on any of the 818 training workouts I’ve completed in that short time (do the math, there are only 885 days in that span). You didn’t see me at the end of that first season when I bought my first road bike, a $400 used Cannondale that was two sizes too small but I still managed, with an overly padded and cheap $30 saddle, mountain biking shoes and pedals, to get that thing up to a 20 mph average over 12 or 13 miles – and with cheap $30 cycling shorts and a crappy jersey (all I could afford at the time) too. It felt like I was riding on barbed wire after ten miles on those shorts, with that saddle. But I still stuck with it, and learned not to push through the pain, but to accept it, because the farther I rode, the more it hurt. How about that first winter when I bought my first legitimate (used) road bike, a 13 year-old Trek 5200 that I set up on a trainer in my office so I could stay in shape for the next season… Even that bike had an inadequate saddle that I suffered on for months before I could afford a decent replacement because it was too wide for my butt.
Where were you?
Where were you while I was out riding half-way around the freaking globe (.458 to be exact, or 11,404 miles), training to get dropped every week on a brutal Tuesday night ride? Where were you when I was puking on the side of the road from the effort? Where were you while I was scrimping and saving so I could finally afford one decent jersey that I bought on sale and off-season? Where were you when I finally could afford a decent pair of shorts and a nice cycling jacket. Where were you while I was absolutely busting my ass, playing real Monopoly with money I didn’t have and couldn’t afford to lose, so I could finally afford the bike of my dreams? Where were you while I was out shedding the last little bit of fat so I could look good in those tight ass clothes like the rest of the assholes?
You were on the couch eating Doritos and a Big Mac, fries and drinking a Diet Coke, and now you just want to up and run with me so you can feel better? Better yet, you want me to wait for you? After your incessant whining and/or bitching that cyclists are a sexist lot, that we’re mean and pretentious with our skinny asses and our tight clothes… You want me to wait for THAT?
Good luck with that. Call me after your first 3,000 mile season and you’ve managed to pop your head out of your ass. We’ll talk about it. Then put in another two seasons because it takes about three to lose the weight and get fast enough to hang with the fast crowd.
In the meantime, please don’t compare what you feel inside to what you see on my outside. I worked my dick off for what I have and you can’t possibly fathom what I’ve sacrificed to be fast enough to get dropped by a bunch of racers who sacrifice even more, on a weekly basis from the comfort of your couch.
You are right about one thing though… It isn’t fair. Of course, it isn’t easy either. If it were, anybody could do it.
UPDATE: Do check out the comments section immediately below, this is a lively topic.