Tomb
A novice cyclist learns how to track race at the Glenmore Velodrome
As a kid I loved cycling. Then at age 12 I took a nasty spill off my bike and had to have bits of gravel removed from my pulverized knees. And that was it. I never got on a bike again.
Which is why arriving at the Glenmore Velodrome 17 years later I have a mounting sense of panic.
The Glenmore Velodrome opened in 1975 in time to host the National Track Championships. It’s a 400-metre outdoor concrete track with 29-degree banks one of only eight velodromes in Canada. From my vantage point looking down from the spectators’ rail it looks forebodingly like a gladiator arena.
I’m there to meet Cole Murphy track manager for the Calgary Bicycle Track League ( cbtl.ca ) for a private training session. I’m swallowing my anxiety until Cole drops a juicy tidbit: “Track bikes don’t have brakes.”
There are three ways to stop. The first is air resistance. The bike’s handles are curved like the horns on a bighorn sheep. For speed and stability you grasp the lower part and hunch over: “drops.” To slow down you grasp the top and lift your body: “tops.”
Alternately you can slow your pedalling — but don’t backpedal because you might flip — or point your bike straight up the incline which slows you down right quick.
The tutorial complete Cole runs through my assignment: two laps of the “apron” followed by laps of the “pole line” “sprinter’s line” and “stayer’s line” then finish by “riding the rail.” I try to stay calm. How hard can it be? After all “like riding a bike” is how we describe a skill that can’t be unlearned.
Cole finishes with some important advice: “If you freak out on the corner don’t slow down. Speed up and you’ll be fine.”
With that it’s go time. Cole helps get my feet into the toe-straps and launches me onto the apron a flat stretch of concrete at the edge of the track.
Indeed riding a bike is like riding a bike — I can stay balanced and keep pedalling. While the basic skills remain though my confidence has vanished. I have a death grip on the handles and my wrists start to ache.
After a wobbly lap I remember that “drops” is supposed to be more stable. The problem is: how the hell do I take my hands off the handlebars long enough to switch positions? I make a couple of timid attempts that send the front wheel skidding so I decide to make a whole-hearted lunge with both hands. Disaster. I lose total control of the bike and bail on the grass.
Disheartened I clamber back up and start pedalling… but without Cole’s help I can’t slide my left foot back in the damn toe-straps. I lamely pull to a stop in front of the clubhouse bruised and strap-less.
Cole is a patient man. He straps me in and offers a reduced challenge: five laps of the pole line. Before I can protest he launches me back onto the apron.
Gliding onto the track is easier than expected. I’m perpendicular to the concrete hovering at 29 degrees but my speed keeps me grounded. I have the briefest moment of calm before the corner looms ahead. The sensation is like racing toward a concrete wall. I freak out. Remembering Cole’s advice I speed up and hold on.
Somehow it works. I don’t know if it’s centrifugal force or if I’m riding Spider-Man’s spare bicycle but I speed around the precariously steep corner in seconds.
Exhilarated exhausted I fly through five laps gasping to a stop at the clubhouse. I never land the toe-straps on my own and I never even come close to riding the rail but for my first time on a bicycle in nearly two decades I’m feeling pretty accomplished.
Cole tells me that the Velodrome is often used by professional skiers bobsledders speed-skaters and football and hockey players for cross-training and I believe it; I’m feeling muscles I didn’t know were there. “Everybody’s going crazy for spin classes” he says “but they don’t even compare.”
Would I go back? Absolutely. The Velodrome is a wild ride… but I might want to put in some kilometres on Calgary’s horizontal bike paths first.
Every month Mark Hopkins will step outside of his comfort zone and write about the experience. Do you have an adventure to suggest? E-mail him at mark@swallowabicycle.com !
