If you want to go faster, slow down.

Does the title of the third part of our training series strike you as a contradiction—like combining the incompatible? Vojtěch Hačecký from the Centre for Sports Medicine, the new mentor of this year's 53X11 magazine series, uses these very words to sum up the focus of the next chapter in this training manual for recreational cyclists: the ever-debated topic of volume versus intensity.

You’ve probably heard the motto “no pain, no gain”—the idea that if it doesn’t hurt, you won’t win or improve. Well, forget that for now. This time, we’re going to learn how to ride slowly. So slowly, in fact, that it doesn’t hurt—or at least not all the time. Because through this seemingly “doing nothing” approach—riding in the basic training zone—you can actually go farther than by constantly grinding through tempo intervals. On the bike, it shouldn’t only hurt.

Don’t believe it?

Most recreational riders I know struggle to accept this idea. For them, riding in this low-intensity zone feels like doing nothing. It seems like a waste of time—especially when time is limited, and they want to make the most of it.

The Polarized Training Model

Let’s start with the polarized training model—also known as 80/20. This approach, popularized by Dr. Stephen Seiler, advocates spending around 80% of training time below the first lactate threshold, and the remaining 20% above the so-called anaerobic threshold—completely skipping the middle, that “grey zone” of threshold training. Sure, if you’re preparing for a time trial, you’ll need to include some of that middle-zone work. But it doesn’t have to be the majority.

Take Cadel Evans, who won the 2011 Tour de France. In the off-season, he mostly just rode his bike gently—because he had so many races leading up to the Tour that the intensity was already there. Most people around him were doing intervals—but they peaked in February or March. Or Ryder Hesjedal, winner of the 2012 Giro d’Italia, who was known for his long, steady rides around the lakes of British Columbia.

Pros have the advantage that even when riding at 30 km/h, they stay below the first lactate threshold. Yes, they’ve had time to build up that base. Volume can't be replaced. And if I want to be as good as they are, I have to start the same way they did. There’s no shortcut—you can’t skip the hours of foundational endurance training.

Of course, Evans was a pro and had the time. Recreational cyclists usually don’t. You might only have one hour a day to ride, and you feel like you have to squeeze out every kilometer. But even in that hour, you need to shift your mindset and stay disciplined.

I wouldn’t measure training by kilometers but by hours of effort. And it doesn’t even have to be on the bike. If you go for a walk with your family, carrying a 15kg backpack, you might end up in the same training zone intensity-wise. Adding a social dimension to cycling training isn’t a bad thing—and your family will appreciate those outings too.

Bjørgen Spent Most of Her Training Time in Zone 1

Let’s step briefly outside cycling. Take cross-country skiing—many cyclists cross-train on skis during the winter. Whether you're cycling or skiing, it’s the same human body, the same heart, and mostly the same muscle groups.

The principle remains: your blood needs to circulate, your muscles need to use oxygen effectively, and your lungs need to ventilate air. The body’s response to effort is roughly the same, regardless of the activity. For instance, cycling uses about 65% of your muscles; rowing uses about 90%. Comparing sports can make sense—data and physiological principles can often be transferred when approached wisely.

In Norway, they’ve developed a world-class training system, thanks in part to athletes who openly share data after retiring. A recent study based on the career of Marit Bjørgen, the most successful Olympic cross-country skier (8 gold medals), showed that over nearly two decades, she spent 76% of her training in zone 1 (below the aerobic threshold), 17% in zone 3 (high intensity), and the rest in between. This even includes races. See? The world’s fastest skier spent most of her time training at very low intensity.

Many people say they ride “easy.” But often not easy enough. They typically ride in zone 2—the “grey zone.” But if you spend too much time between thresholds, the body adapts only so far. If, instead, you train very slow and very fast, you stay relatively fresh while still stimulating your muscles to adapt.

It’s a mistake to always ride at tempo or say, “there’s a hill, let’s hammer it.” That mindset leads nowhere.

If I see a Czech amateur rider averaging 33 km/h solo in December on Mallorca, something’s off—unless it's Zdeněk Štybar. There are always exceptions, but you can’t base your training on outliers. Especially if you’re a recreational rider. True endurance work is slow, and true intensity work is all-out.

Why Slow Training Works

Because it builds structure. It promotes mitochondrial development—the cell’s energy factories responsible for aerobic metabolism. It increases plasma volume, boosting blood formation. It trains your cardiovascular system. Ideally, you’d ride long and easy, but even short rides count. Minutes add up. Six hours of slow riding is better than six hours of going hard. That’s a fact.

Please don’t ride six one-hour sessions hard. Most group rides are too intense, but they can substitute for intervals if used correctly. Just make sure at least one longer, low-intensity ride is part of your weekend.

Even during the week, when time is tight, keep the intensity low. That might surprise you, but it’s more effective in the long term. The quality lies not in how fast you ride, but in the discipline to not get dragged into unnecessary intensity.

Yes, race season is here and intensity is necessary. But not every session has to be intense. You can tune up form surprisingly quickly. With a solid base, four weeks of intensity is enough!

Reset Your Mindset—Ride with a Relaxed Heart Rate

This is about mental discipline too. Most people work stressful jobs—and stress hormones affect the body like physical exertion. So why push your body even harder after work? If you want to blow off steam, try stairs or a punching bag. But an hour-long all-out ride is just too much. Once a month, sure—as an FTP test, maybe on an ergometer. But otherwise? I personally haven’t had the nerve to do a full-hour max test.

We're talking seriously low heart rates here. If your commute takes an hour, it should feel so easy that by the afternoon you think, “Wait, did I even ride today?” Not crawl home, slam two coffees and a cookie, and wonder why you're shattered.

I get it—people want to feel fast. There’s also Strava, KOMs, the pressure to beat others. But that’s fine once a week. Grab that KOM, then calm down. Training will work better. True aerobic riding is very slow. Most people find it illogical, fight against it—and can’t do it. Then progress stalls, because they overshoot it.

Bonus: low-intensity riding also trains your fat metabolism. You burn fat. And who doesn’t like that?

Want to Go Faster? Slow Down.

It sounds absurd, but it’s been said forever: If you want to go fast, slow down. Yet hardly anyone does it. People are afraid of easy rides—they need to “attack something.” But any intense effort longer than five seconds produces excess lactate, which your body can’t process right away. That lactate pushes you away from fat metabolism and toward carbs. Just 15 seconds of all-out effort can cause lactate to rise for 6–7 minutes—even in passive rest. For hobbyists, that could mean 8 to 12 mmol/L of lactate. It takes a long time to clear—and during that time, you're not training the energy system you intended.

You burn the lactate you just produced—instead of fat. Because of one hill you “had” to attack. And if you’re not recovered by race day, you won’t perform. That’s why frequent zone 2 riding—or training with overzealous friends—is counterproductive. Not that you have to train alone—but ride with someone who has similar goals and fitness.

You may have heard the myth that once you learn to ride slow, you’ll never be fast again. That your body will “lock in” to one speed. Nope. That takes a month—maximum—to fix. Training is metabolic. Support glycolysis, and you regain explosiveness. Speeding up the glycolytic system is easier than slowing it down. You won’t lose fast-twitch fibers—they’re maintained even during long easy rides. They just need to be “reactivated,” and that can be done quickly.

Try the 30-30 Method

For recreational riders, the 30-30 method works well: 30 seconds at about 90% of your sustainable max power (not all-out), then 30 seconds easy. Do this for 6–8 minutes per set, 3–4 sets total depending on fitness. That’s enough!

You should spend about 30 minutes per session at high heart rate, but in a one-hour ride, that’s tough—you’ll need to stack intervals close together, with 2-minute rests between sets. It will hurt. Twice a week is enough.

Another option: 4 sets of 2-minute all-out efforts, each followed by 5 minutes of passive rest. That’s proper intensity. And in contrast, you need really easy rides.

If you start a ride at 180 watts, by the second hour, you might need to back off—your movement pattern and economy degrade. That’s okay. Stay in zone 1.

It’s all based on physiology. We humans weren’t designed to constantly sprint. We evolved to walk long distances, with the occasional short sprint—for hunting or survival. Our core engine is aerobic. Even a two-minute max effort is 65% aerobically fueled. Repeat that, and anything over 15 seconds becomes mostly aerobic. If your base is lacking, you’re slower than you could be.

So stop chasing average speeds. Try this challenge: ride an hour at a consistent heart rate and cadence. It’s possible—but you’ll need to slow down. Higher cadence helps—it’s easier to boost cardiac output than muscle force. Even an easy ride, if done with discipline, prepares you for the tough sessions to come. Without the base, the hard sessions won’t have the same effect.

This is the way. The most effective way. But if it doesn’t bring you joy, find another—even if it’s more complicated.

– Vojtěch Hačecký for 53x11 magazine