Controlling Aggression

Main Entry:
ag·gres·sive
Pronunciation:
\ə-ˈgre-siv\
Function:
adjective
Date:
1824

1 a: tending toward or exhibiting aggression b: marked by combative readiness 2 a: marked by obtrusive energy b: marked by driving forceful energy or initiative : enterprising

This one's been sitting in the drafts folder untouched since I started the week before Gloucester. I'm not trying to be a low-rent Josh Horowitz or anything, but what good is being a know-it-all if I don't share the wisdom? There's more to Nega-Coaching than just telling people they suck.

Before G-ster, there was a lot of chatter about first-lap aggression in the huge fields. Almost everyone likes to think the early-going bottlenecks bear responsibility for their shitty finish later on. Some of our podium hopefuls simply felt that starting strong and then doing "the slide" backwards through the field better suited their style. Gloucester is also a drafting course, so thinking that a great start might allow one to slot in to a fast group that's going to take you to the promised land would not be too much of a stretch.

I'm not a big fan of doing "the slide." You might hear similar advice regarding getting over big hills in road races. Conventional wisdom says that if you're a shitty climber, you should get to the front before the start of the climb, then get in the way of the strong climbers as you drift your way back, thus giving yourself more time to complete the climb without losing contact. That method doesn't work well for me. Two main reasons: one, the energy/adrenalin expenditure to get in position for the climb takes a toll. This parallels what happens in a cross race if you burn a bunch of matches at the start. Sure, you're right up front, but now you're half-blown, or worse. You pissed people off getting there, which will ALWAYS come back to haunt you in the future should you stick with the sport (trust me, I have a long memory when it comes to this shit), and now you're in the way of smarter riders who have business to tend to. Exactly what did you accomplish here?

Reason two, a bigger factor is how doing "the slide" affects you mentally. Suffering on a major climb in a road race (and I'm not a gifted climber by any friggin' means), nothing's more likely to crack my sorry ass than having rider after rider swarm by. I'm much more motivated if I'm picking people off and jumping from wheel to wheel, group to group. Success breeds success. Same thing in a cross race. Moving up will motivate you to get aggressive at the end, and race, not just survive to the finish.

Now I'm not suggesting that you kick back and have a latte on the line while the field roars off. One of my best mates recently sent me some advice to help with my leaning-out efforts: live on the edge of hunger. Good advice. The edge of aggression is where you want to be. Don't waste energy trying to force things to happen. Be tough, take spots, but stay in your limits. Don't be the jackass who tries to take twenty spots under braking. Yeah, I know it works once in a while, but often you get nowhere, burn a match, and earn yourself a shitload of bad karma. Of course, I know the guiltiest aren't going to take heed here...

Aggression control benefits you many places other than the start of a cyclocross race. The concept can be expanded to the planning of your entire training season. You have to push your limits; conservative training will only yield conservative gains. But you have to be smart, staying on "the edge" and pushing just enough without going over and getting yourself injured, burning out, or just leaving yourself flat.

Running races are a place where I'm having trouble following my own advice. My running history doesn't contain many examples of negative split times. Last week at Brockton was typical, albeit at least a good result and a "slide free" race. The effort also left me with a tight calf. My LMT did not return my calls this week, so I was left to deal with it on my own. The foam roll proved quite useful, as did the heating pad. By Wednesday I was ready to test it with a 4.5 mile jog around the pasture. The knot was there, but I endured. The next few day I stuck with the cross bike. By Thursday night, I'd conceded that the Canton 10k coming up tomorrow was going to be a training run. Last year I tried to break 40 minutes on the tough, hilly, acorn and chestnut-strewn course. After an overly aggressive 5:45 first mile, I faded in miles two and three, and lost my chance when mile five took 7:07. I finished in 40:27. After my recent physical setbacks, missing the Pinnacle Challenge and all of cross season so far, I'd been banking on a good performance at Canton to salvage my fall, but the way my leg felt made me realize a sub 40 on this course was highly unlikely. So, shifting gears, Friday morning, instead of easing into the weekend, I did nine miles at a decent 7:50 tempo pace. What the hell right?

Well, today my calf feels pretty good! We'll have to see. My plan is to hold back, hold back, hold back at the start. This will be tough to do because the first half of the race consists of mostly downhill, the latter half thus being predominantly uphill. Even splits therefore could be considered negative. My goal is to contain the aggression as an experiment and see if I can put in a decent time. Now as the Cronoman says, I'd better get out on the bike before it stops raining. Have a great weekend, see some of you Sunday at the cross race (right after, and right next to, the running race). Thanks for reading.