The wind doesn’t always win

“The older you get, the stronger the wind gets. And it’s always in your face.”

-Pablo Picasso

I have nothing but respect for cyclists who live and train in windy climes. Texas comes first to mind. I did the Ride for the Roses in 2003 and 2004 in Austin, when the wind blew something like (I swear) a bazillion knots. A jumbo cold or hot wind in your face is as difficult mentally as any alpine climb, due the unpredictable nature of the opponent and its never-ending invisible assaults. You can see and size up a mountain. You can’t see a gust that smacks you in the kisser and makes you reel. One moment your driving hard on a straight line with great cadence. The next moment, you’re wobbling and feeling as if the wheels may slide right out from under your arse. All the while, large vehicles roll by within a couple meters. It’s unnerving, but builds character when out there solo. No rotation in a pace line or sharing the work. The alone-rider’s job is serious stuff. The brain on sensory overload. Eyes alert for debris below. Torso adjusting to a push here, a push there.

Today, the wind threw down the gauntlet during stretches of two difficult climbs. I found myself searching out tree tops to gauge the opponent. The combo of more-aggressive-than-usual wind and pitched asphalt was beautiful. A late winter whip-fest less than 24 hours before Daylight Saving Time clicks in. So appropriate. The wind can test the hardiest of riders. But it doesn’t always win. Last month, a rider asked me after the 80 for Haiti ride what the equivalent mileage really was, thanks to howling winds. The answer was easy: 80–with wind. We don’t subtract miles or kilometers from a ride to account for wind  at our back. It makes perfect sense not to add any when it’s in our face. Just plow forward. Here’s Garmin data from today’s door-door Palomar Mountain climb (first shot), complete with a Cole Grade Road kicker (second shot). The wind didn’t win, but it came close.

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