Spinning | Mashing

A cyclist's natural cadence falls into one of two camps: 1) spinning (faster in a lower gear) or 2) mashing (slower in a higher gear).

Lately, the trend has favored spinning. Like many things related to cycling in the past decade, Lance Armstrong has something to do with it. Essentially, spinners peg a higher cadence to a particular heart rate zone, which has been derived from the cyclist's HR MAX. Following this method can produce a very efficient cardiovascular system tuned for intense racing.

There are also those who say that spinning is less taxing on the knees than mashing, as pushing a high gear puts tremendous stress on the patella and its surrounding tendons. Visualize the knee cap as a watermelon seed being pinched between the thumb and index finger.

While I prefer to spin, my friend Wes is a masher. With tree trunks for quads and softball-sized calf muscles, Wes is ideally suited for the long and strong cadence over spinning. So while time trialing on the flats, he's grinding. Climbing Ponca Hills? Yep, big ring. Icy winter rides on a franken-hybrid with aero bars? You got it: torquing the high gear. And tho it doesn't appear to have any effect on his apparently robotic knees, the same cannot be said about his chain ring. Once squared and flat, the ring's teeth are more likely to appear on the blade of a Black & Decker circular saw than as a bicycle component. And like any true masher, the smaller ring appears as blemish-free as the day it was forged.

Anyhow, I thought of Wes during last night's weekly Omaha Trek Store club ride. Near the end of the route, it has become a tradition to assault the last hill in the 53 x 11 gear. Why this has become the case, I'm not sure. Perhaps it's to mix-in strength work. It could also be the final chance to redeem a token of pride for those mashers who were dropped by spinners on previous climbs.

Whatever the reason, I made an initial attempt to ascend this hill in the biggie three weeks ago. I managed (barely). It wasn't too bad, actually. Yet before I could bask in my self-righteous hubris, Shim informed me that it didn't count because I was standing on the pedals. Jerk.

So I made a second go at it last week, climbing 3/4 of the hill before standing. Almost!

But let it be known that in the twilight sun of July 1st, 2009, I became a bad-ass masher who finally made it up the entire hill while remaining seated in 53x11. As I approached the crest, a rush of adrenalin swept over my quivering legs and through my soul, compelling me to shout out in a booming voice above the valley of Fort and 82nd Street, "LO, I HAVE BECOME WES JOHNSON!!"

There you go, Wes. This one's for you. Happy mashing, fella.