Training in Spain

Club member Ian Collins recently moved to Geneva. Since then, he's ridden some of the sport's greatest routes. In his latest article, Ian goes to on a pre-season training camp near Alicante. The pain in Spain gets rubbed out as Ian tells of the benefits of massage.

The weather since Christmas in Geneva has been truly appalling with snow and ice remaining, even in the city centre, for weeks on end. Just as the last remnants of the previous “chute de neige” started to melt away, there always seemed to be a fresh fall of the white stuff to take its place. Coupled with temperatures below zero almost every day, training outside was difficult and uncomfortable. Although I had been doing plenty of work on the track and on the trainer, nothing properly replicates a good session on the road and so I had been forcing myself out of the door to get some kilometres in before the training camp in Spain. And whatever measures I took, it never seemed to stop me losing all feeling in my feet within an hour. But then you know it is cold when the water in your bottle freezes within 2 hours of riding out.

As the camp approached, I got all the classic worries about whether I had done enough to ensure my level was even on the same planet as the other guys going. I knew we were going to be doing a mix of flat and hills and it was the latter that had me worried. I didn’t want to get dropped and have to find my own way to the hotel each day nor did I want to make the others have to stop every ten kilometres while I caught back up.

Getting there was a bit of a trial as Geneva airport was closed due to, yes you guessed it, more snow. After a two hour delay, we finally took off to what we all hoped would be at worst mild weather. Landing at Alicante to be greeted by temperatures in double digits did wonders for everyone. Having built the bikes up and checked out the hotel - pretty much deserted but large rooms, right by the sea - the Pédale des Eaux-Vives (”PEV”) contingent settled down to dinner in true pro style on a long table to discuss the forthcoming sufferfest.

The following day we all met for breakfast at 8 am. Now I like a good hearty meal to start the day but some of my clubmates put me in the shade. The buffet took a dreadful hammering as weird concoctions of food were hoovered down by 11 hungry cyclists and I have never seen so much eaten. And how some of them could stomach cheese and ham at 8 am I will never know. By 10 am we were on the road for what I was promised would be a pleasant jaunt into the interior with only a couple of climbs to negotiate. Of course, what a continental European means by climb is an ascent over five kilometres in length and so within an hour I was already suffering over what to me was a pretty bumpy route. A couple of times I threatened to lose contact with the group on mini hills that were more grinds than proper ascents – unfortunately, the speed never seemed to reduce going up these hills which left me desperately hanging onto the wheel in front at times.

I finally lost contact with the group on the first proper climb – not too steep at around 6% but about 6-7km in length. The guys at the front climbed this at between 20-25km/h! But I knew we were due a break at the top and so just got into my own rhythm and met them a few minutes later. At this point the wonders of the support car came into play as we could all stock up on drinks, energy bars, paninis, bananas etc and also grab another layer to put on for the descent – it is so much nicer not having to fill your pockets to the brim with all this stuff and to know a car fully-equipped with tools is just behind you.

The rest of the day proceeded largely without incident and I got into what became a familiar groove for the week where I started slowly and got stronger as the day went on – after 80km I always seemed to get better, indicative that my endurance preparation had been pretty good. But I also think that the other guys often wore themselves out racing up the first couple of climbs and so during the latter part of the day slowed down a bit. I had one embarrassment right near the hotel at the end of the ride where I managed to fall off trying to ride up a curb. No damage done other than to my ego but I could have done without humiliating myself more than just through my lack of speed. Thankfully, one guy fell off the next day while sending a text message while another came off after misjudging a bunnyhop over a pothole (the less said about the state of Spanish roads the better) – nobody badly hurt, though one helmet split, and it was nice to know it was just not me falling off for stupid reasons. We got back to the hotel having done 120km and I felt good that I had no trouble lasting the distance and had only lost contact during a couple of long climbs.

The highlight to that point was the massage we got before dinner from our accompanying masseuse, Sandra. We were all particularly excited, and no, not because of what you are thinking – Sandra had previously been a masseuse for the CSC pro team and had gone freelance and set up base in Girona. Consequently, she had massaged the legs of Tyler Hamilton, George Hincapie and Floyd Landis to name but a few. And what is more, she had even done Lance when his regular masseur wasn’t around. I’m not quite sure how I can bask in any reflected glory from all this but I’m damn well going to try. No doubt Sandra was just as excited as she fulfilled all her career ambitions by finally getting the Collins legs in her well-trained palms. I have to say relaxing it was not. More like bloody painful. Suppleness and I do not go hand in hand and Sandra gave me a right good seeing to, as they say. But by the end, my legs felt great and throughout the week, my muscles actually seemed to get less sore. It was also great hearing about all the races she had been to and about the pro riders. It sounds like a very tough life being involved in any part of pro cycling and the mixture of boredom and intense work wouldn’t be my cup of tea (good job I’ve been blessed with no physical talent then).

Having a massage after every ride could be an expensive addiction but if you’ve never experienced it, I highly recommend the whole thing – you won’t believe how much better you can feel.

Dinner was spent at what would become the familiar long table. Disappointingly, a mixture of fatigue and French at 100km/h peppered with slang resulted in me struggling to follow much of the banter during mealtimes, as well as the many thoughts and advice volunteered by some of the guys who had been racing a long time. One had been Swiss Romand (the French speaking part) amateur champion no less than three times but I just couldn’t understand much of what he said! Nevertheless, the other guys were very encouraging despite my poor language skills and me obviously being the weakest rider in the group, such that I never felt totally out of it.

The countryside round Alicante is quite stunning at times and anyone who has followed the Vuelta or other Spanish races will recognise the sun-bleached barren rocks through which narrow and often pretty poorly maintained roads snake. We tried to have an easy day after any particularly tough outing, though often some of the riders chose to do extra after we returned to the hotel. It was amusing in that many privately confessed to being tired and promised that they were going to give themselves a proper rest but then, when asked in the group if they wanted to go for more, always said yes! The power of peer group pressure. Nevertheless, I made sure I tried to listen to my body as there was no way I was going to finish the week if I did all the extra kms the others were doing. And I reasoned that there was no real benefit in doing 40 extra kms when I has already done a lot and was tired.

During one of our sorties, we came across Michael Boogerd who had abandoned the Tour de Valencia which was taking place in the region, as well as a Lotto rider that nobody recognised. Unfortunately, this gave rise to a manic chase up a very long climb to stay with him – needless to say I watched this from several kilometres back within 20 minutes, although I’m told a couple of my clubmates managed to hang on all the way up. We never managed to catch up with the Tour through the week and it was interesting to hear that one of the stages had to be cut short owing to snow on a mountain only 50km from Alicante – but the weather affecting pretty much the whole of Europe managed to bypass us.

I quickly got into a groove of riding then recovering and in fact I reckon I improved over the week, even if I did start to feel pretty tired by the end of it. I even managed to come in third place three times up cols at the end of rides as the quick guys tired themselves out early on in the ride. It became clear that it always took me a long time to warm up and by the end I realised I had to spin my legs very fast in a ridiculously low gear at the start of each ride to get myself up to speed quickly. I also found that striking a balance between eating enough and too much was quite difficult. At times I think I stuffed myself too much in one go so that my body was using half its capacity digesting food rather than working my legs – one of many things I learnt about myself over the course of the week.

Mercifully, the other guys were all very serious about their training and pretty much lived like monks when they weren’t on the bike. Consequently, wine was sparse at the dinner table and early nights were very much the order of the day. This may sound boring but in actual fact I was pretty pleased as there was no way I was able to burn the candle at both ends. On one day we did 150km including a 40km (yes 40) climb, amongst others – there was no way I was fit for a club after that.

By the end of the week I had done 850km, including 11,000 metres of climbing and was ready for a bit of a break. In fact, it is only now, a couple of weeks after returning that I am starting to feel the training benefits. Thankfully, the weather in Geneva has got a lot warmer and I’m ready to start the season proper. I’m not sure whether I am going to find lots of races at my level but there are literally hundreds of “cyclo-sportifs” which are to all intents and purposes races and I now reckon I have a pretty good base to start from. Unfortunately, Sandra isn’t going to be on hand to assist in my recovery work.