field test

At 1.35am something crashes in my house. I get up and inspect each room but can find no picture dangling from a broken wire, no bike on its side, no vase in pieces. A huntsman is above the window in the lounge room but I doubt his clattering woke me.

At 6:38 I wake again. This morning it’s the field test. Last night at the gym I bust a gut on Kirsten’s Cycle class, then stay on the bike for another half hour, in recovery gear, but maintaining a cadence above 110, then 120, and 130 for the last minute.

Today I finally do the Carmichael Training System field test. It’s a three-mile (4.828km) time trial to determine whether I start the CTS seven-weeks-to-a-perfect-ride as a beginner or intermediate. Advanced is out of the question: I’d have to complete the distance in less than eight minutes. Less than ten minutes will do me. Over ten minutes will depress me.

Sandhurst Town Road proves insufficient—it’s a kilometre short. And it proves to be not as flat as thought. I make up the extra kilometre in Myers Flat Road, which means I have to round a 90-degree corner and the course will then be ever so slightly uphill.

It’s supposed to be still but it’s not; by my estimation there’s a 10 to 15 knot westerly, although I’ve no idea what a knot is. This will be a crosswind from my right, which seems sort of neutral.

I don’t ‘go to the bathroom’ before riding, as the CTS suggests. I lie: I do go to the bathroom but don’t manage to shit. (American English is so puritanical.) I’m supposed to have a protein drink 40 minutes before the trial, and I do, but otherwise I’m not to eat for two hours before riding. For me it’s twelve hours. None of this is ideal.

I prime the navigator on the computer and set the stopwatch on the HRM and off I go. I start in the second highest gear in the small ring and quickly reach a cadence of 90. Once round the corner and onto the ‘uphill’ it’s hard to push 80. I hunker down and get into the work. The last kilometre has a couple of bumps which lift the heart rate above 160.

I stop the clock at 9:23. I’m happy with that, but resolve to do it properly at the velodrome. By the time I’m back on my doorstep I’ve logged 42kms at 27.3kph.

I boom back into Bendigo on the big ring and catch two boy racers idling into town to join a bunch. One detects my way ancient grey-bearded presence at the Thistle Street lights and hares off. Wouldn’t I like to be able to rip it up like that whenever the fancy took me? You betcha!

Now I’m off to Pump class to rip the upper body. Pity about those squats and lunges.