Out and Back
In another lifetime I raced road bicycles and was actually quite good at it. (Ask me sometime about sprints to various signs against my Olympic Training Center roommate Frankie Andreu.) But somewhere between deciding to go to college and trying to lead a normal life, bicycle racing was sadly left behind. Every time I get back on my road bike, I am reminded of how much I love(d) it.
There were a few different platforms for road races: criterium (closed circuit with a couple of forms, including straight up and point race), open road race, and time trial. Often these were pieced together in the form of a stage race à la the Tour de France, and each was grueling in its own special way. Today I was reminded of the time trial for some reason. The time trail is just you against the clock for a specified distance. The greatest road riders of all time were almost all masters of the time trial: Eddy Merckx, Miguel Indurain and most recently Lance Armstrong.
I have a strange but fond memory of the Wisconsin State Time Trial Championships somewhere in very northern Wisconsin. It was 35 degrees Fahrenheit (that is a little above 0 Celsius for anybody not from the States), and I remember finishing and being pried from my bike wearing only a lycra skinsuit. I then shivered uncontrollably for approximately four hours as my mom proceeded to continuously force me to drink all the hot tea and cocoa that I possibly could. At about that point I realized how cool my mom really was. And no, I hadn’t started to drink coffee yet in any serious way.
My time trials were typically out and back, meaning that you rode to the halfway point, turned around, and headed back to where you started. Time trials were about pacing yourself for the entire distance as you had no one’s wheel to sit on and draft; it was just you, your legs, your lungs and (mostly) your mind at work. Like all disciplines of bicycle racing, when you were feeling the most pain at any point in the course, so too were your opponents. Just a pedal stroke more than them each minute and you would bury them over the course of a race.
No wind in a time trail was nice, but you could still find yourself low on energy in the second half. My favorite was the headwind out and the tailwind back. You could crank hard with your head down in a tight tuck into the wind and then at the point when you were most battered, turn around, have that tail wind hit you, and you would absolutely fly home in your biggest gear. It was a truly amazing feeling.
So why was I thinking about this? Well, I am now on vacation for my 6 year old daughter’s Spring Break, and I was out for a run today along the beautiful sand here in Miami Beach. As I started around 16th and Collins, I ran into a strong head wind all the way to 44th and Collins. I was distracted at times for various reasons, but the headwind would not be forgotten. At the halfway point I turned around and headed back with that marvelous tailwind behind me all the way.
There has been a lot of commotion and turbulence in the Specialty Coffee business lately. Up until now, I have felt like the race for critical acclaim and commercial success in Specialty Coffee has been really trying for all of us involved in it. We have cranked hard with our heads down into what can only be described as the most ferocious headwind. I think it is about time to turn around and experience the wind at our backs. I hope you’re ready. Remember, all it takes is one pedal stroke more.
