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Paceline Manor
By David Teall
 Some
time ago the editor asked me to write something about pace lines. Not sure whether
anything I hammered out on this keyboard could do more than the simple on-the-bike
communication and cooperation that occurs on those rare occasions when a pace line
actually works, I was reluctant. That pace lines are extraordinary is not a knock on
anyone. A small group can cooperate or not, factoring in the various strengths, abilities, and idiosyncracies of
each individual. In the larger groups natural rivalries occur. This contentious behavior
seems to increase exponentially in proportion to the size of the group, making keeping
together a pace line difficult at best.
Before I can address this issue, I need
to create a make-believe pace line and people it with make-believe riders, each a distinct
and recognizable character. To make my pretense work well, I'll need a good-sized batch.
So, like a bag of toy soldiers, I've included several copies of each persona. Now for the
disclaimer. The members of this fictional troupe are in no way, shape, or form based on
any real person or persons. They are instead an amalgam of characteristics gleaned from
the best and worst of traits that any cyclist might exhibit from time to time. Any
resemblance to past or present Wheelmen, I assure you, is purely coincidental.
 The first in my fanciful phalanx is one of the best all-around riders
in the bunch. He is capable of riding in any pace line, but seldom does so. He is more
likely found either at the back of the group, with a struggling pace line ahead, begging
him to join, or off the front, occasionally peeking over his shoulder to measure his gap.
If things bog down too much while he is at the back, he'll magnanimously move up for a
monster pull. At some point in the ride, precisely calculated to place him far off the
front upon arrival at the sprint sign, he will attack. If anybody is able to answer, he
will perform quite nicely in a high-speed sharing of pace, as long as it works to put the
larger group farther out of sight. For the main bunch, however, he is a pace line pariah.
I call this rider Napoleon.
The next rider
is every bit as good an all-arounder as our Napoleon. If he sees Napoleon attack near the finish, he will answer. If, on the other
hand, Napoleon attacks early, he will organize the chase. In a
working pace line he will shelter the weak rider and instruct the novice; he will slide
out of formation to fill a gap; he will maintain the pace while some headstrong hammer
offers to drag-race him through the exchange. In short, he will do anything to maintain
rhythm and flow in the whole group. He enjoys riding in a pace line--any pace
line. Allow me to introduce Snowball.
Another rider in
my fantasy flock has plenty of strength but woefully lacks foot speed. When nobody wants
the front, he will pull all day without complaint. His ideal "pace line," in
fact, would be a single or double-file with 5 to 10-minute pulls. Changing speeds is
anathema. If he appears at the front of a pace line, he will pull through, slide into the
relief line, but will not slow down. Conversely, at the back of the line there often
appears a gap of 2 bike-lengths or more before he begins his methodical march to the
front. He may give up all together on the pace line and form the vanguard of an in-line
formation directly behind the rotation. When speaking of this rider, Napoleon
likes to paraphrase P.T.Barnum: "There's a Boxer born every minute." Yes, call
him Boxer.
Something of
a foil to Boxer and his muscle, the next cyclist has plenty of speed
but not much strength. He is often patronized with the crude cognomen, Wheelsucker.
Unfair! He sees the entire group, back to front, anticipates all the accordion stretches
and crunches, and preserves precious momentum. Like a champion sailor, he studies even the
faintest zephyr to always know where to echelon and on which side it is best to pull off.
He instantly changes speeds to position and reposition himself in that perfect sweet spot.
Through him the art of riding in shelter reaches apotheosis. He may be a veteran racer, a
pure sprinter, a brilliant bike handler, a tactical genius, or all of the above. Meet
Squealer.
The final character
in my collection of crankers has some strength, a little speed, good skills, miles of
experience, and a sense of rhythm. If he doesn't have to drag-race a stubborn Boxer or catch the wheel of a rambunctious Napoleon,
he can fit in nicely with any rotation. He's not as brawny as Boxer,
but unlike Boxer he will pull through and get out. What he lacks in
vigor and velocity, he makes up for with skill and savvy. His steady sense of pace is the
glue that holds the group together. He is Clover.
Now, let's take a look at this bunch
in action. At any given time there is likely to be more than one Boxer
at the front, which is the case when Snowball, with Squealer and Clover in tow, moves up on the
left and signals everyone to start a rotation pulling off on the right. Next in line, Squealer maintains the same pace, waits until his rear wheel is even
with Snowball's front, slowly drifts toward the curb, and
softpedals down a notch. Then Clover, whose cyclocomputer reads
24mph, follows suit, allowing a little more clearance and changing lanes a bit more
abruptly. Boxer, who started coming around Clover
before Squealer had gotten through, picks up the pace and tardily
moves into the relief line without slowing. Clover struggles to
accelerate and keep the relief line intact; his cyclocomputer now reads 26mph! Back in the
fast-lane, Boxer 2, followed by Snowball 2,
are doing the same speed as the so-called relief line. Side by side, the Boxers
chat at the front. Then Snowball 2 invites Boxer
2 to pull through. Boxer does so reluctantly; the pace in the relief
line, however, does not abate until Snowball 2 gets through and
slows it down. Snowball 2 looks over his left shoulder and sees
that Snowball 1, Squealer, and Clover are coming through again. Snowball 2
seizes this opportunity to reinforce some pace line basics: "When you guys pull
through: DON'T PICK IT UP! You need to slide over and then softpedal after you pull
through. Pick it up at the end of the relief line when it's your turn to get back in.
There are only two speeds: the relief line here and the pace line there: slow down after
you get through; you can speed up again at the back of the line."
Slow down at the front and speed
up at the back. That last bit from Snowball rings in Boxer 3's ears. "Wait a minute!" he thinks, trying to
reconcile concepts diametrically opposed. "The front is fast and the
back is slow!" Boxer 3 pulls through strong behind Clover and maintains his stepped-up pace in the relief line. Squealer 2, next in line, refuses to pick up the pace further and
pull through; he is waiting for Boxer 3 to ease off. Meanwhile, Clover is struggling to close a growing gap in the relief line.
Finally, Squealer 2 ducks into the gap between Boxer
and Clover in the relief line. Every man, woman, and child for
himself, the rotation falls apart. When Boxer 3 decides his monster
pull is over, he awkwardly drifts back through the ranks. Everything bunches up. WHAM! Napoleon takes off up the road.
Somebody once said that a chain is
as strong as its weakest link. I hope you all don't think that that's true in the peloton.
As for "weak links", if the Boxers kept to the front and
maintained that 26mph pace, the Clovers and Squealers
would still be there in the back, right? It might take an every-man-for-himself chase
after Napoleon to drop the Clovers, and a
prolonged chase at that to drop the Squealers. Let's give these
guys their due, and then put 'em to work.
Get Clover in
the rotation; his cadence will be the heartbeat of our pace line. Since Squealer can ride behind anybody, let him
in front of Boxer. Then Boxer will be in front of Squealer in the relief line (which is where our trouble with Boxer lies). Squealer will reaccelerate ever so
slightly when Boxer pulls off, keeping the relief line intact. Behind
Boxer we need an enforcer, like Snowball. Snowball has the wherewithal to pull through behind Boxer
without picking the pace up more than necessary. Once he is finally clear, Snowball will throttle the relief line down a notch. Behind Snowball is the perfect place for Clover. When Snowball pulls off, Clover will reestablish
that heartbeat-rhythm that took off ever so slightly when Snowball
followed Boxer through. Squealer, Boxer, Snowball, Clover, Squealer, Boxer, Snowball,
Clover, and so on. Clover and Squealer get through quickly. Boxer and Snowball take longer pulls and do more work. Squealer
speeds up slightly in the relief line to close the gap Boxer and Snowball create with their stronger pulls. Snowball
corrects the speed of the relief line when he pulls off. This creates within the rotation
a pulsating rhythm of surge and steady, surge and steady, regulated by Clover,
without whom a rotation of surge, surge, surge, surge, would soon reach critical mass.
Back to the real world.
What I hope my make-believe menagerie will illustrate is a
greater appreciation for the true complexity of something that seems so simple at first
glance. Two lines, one line cruises at about 2mph faster than the other. The fast line
pulls off into the slow line; during the transition at the front you softpedal down 2mph.
You accelerate and get back on the fast track at the end of the line. Pretty simple. But
real cyclists, with all their shapes and sizes, in myriad gearings on various equipment,
each possessing different strengths and abilities--some with agendas, are not going to
pull this off with military precision. The good news is we don't have to. All we have to
do is keep ours eyes open for all the Snowballs, Boxers,
Squealers, and Clovers out there and open
our minds to a more communal approach. The other option is to stick with the current
laissez-faire system where Boxers control the front, Squealers get a free ride, and Napoleons
clandestinely plan their attacks.
I suggest we all follow the example
of Squealer and look beyond that rear wheel directly in front,
develop a vision for the entire field, and make those little speed adjustments to maintain
momentum. That will keep the line together, and, pace line or not, we all become better
group riders. If you're feeling well, be a Snowball, trade places
with Squealer or Clover when he's struggling
to follow Boxer through. And all Boxers should
not have to be sandwiched between Squealer and Snowball.
So Boxer, don't be so adverse to changing speeds, i.e., softpedaling
at the front of the relief line. Speed and riding in a tight group are skills worth
developing. Pace-line riding can improve both.
I haven't forgotten Napoleon. Where I first thought this may not be the best way to
inform the masses, it may be the medium that'll reach that rambunctious rabble-rouser.
An epistolary ending:
Dear Napoleon,
Happy Holidays (belated). I hear you did extremely well
in federation races last season. I'm not surprised, with the way that you always rode away
at will from that breakfast bunch. A couple of times I tried to organize a pace line and
chase, but you know how that goes. Either we couldn't get it started or about the time we
got it going all the fast guys would jump ship. Which brings me to the real point of this
letter. I know that we are nowhere near your level, but I wonder if you'd consider helping
me make this pace line thing work once in a while. A little work in a pace line might even
help you get better (if that's possible).
You know, I used to do fed races
too. Cat II. Though I was no where near as good as you, I scratched and clawed my way to a
few paydays. I remember the hardest thing about moving up to the next category wasn't the
pace--it was the way things happened so fast.
Attack...chase...block...attack...chase...block, we were constantly changing speeds. I got
better when I started taking advantage of every opportunity to ride in a group. Even when
it was just two of us, we'd do through and outs for most of the ride. In a larger group
(you guessed it) we'd do a pace line. So you're doing 22, you still have to accelerate at
the end of the line. It's the change of speed. That's the key.
I used to play this game in my head
when I was just piddling along in a pace line. In my mind I'd bid the number of pedal
strokes it'd take me to accelerate from the relief to the pace line. "I can make that
transition in 6 strokes," I'd bid. Then I'd have to do it, explode for 6 strokes,
left-right-left-right-left-right-relax (all this in the saddle so nobody would notice) at
the end of the line and make the transition. When you're going slow like that, totally
relaxed, and then explode, your muscles, your mind--everything gets trained. Sometimes I'd
do the exact opposite of "Name the Strokes." I'd make the transition using the
least amount of energy possible. I'd cheat a little toward the end, slip in between the
two lines, and time it so that I reached fast-lane speed at the exact moment I completed
the transition.
So make a game out of it, Napoleon. Relax, get in the flow, hone those skills, the transition,
changing speeds, play "Name the Strokes," just try it! Who knows, you might find
yourself in a breakaway with some big boys and mega moola on the line. I know you can ride
with those guys, but how efficiently can you get to the back of the break after your pull
at the front? That can be a killer: you're ready for a rest but your timing's just a
little off and you have to jump hard just to get back on.
So get in a pace line ASAP. Do this
transition thing a few thousand times and get it hardwired into your brain. It might pay
off.
Best wishes in the coming season,
Squealer
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