There is no sensation on inline skates quite as thrilling as being sucked along at 30 mph in a slipstream, that quiet vacuum of air that draws you into another world and carries you at tremendous speed with minmal effort. Whether being pulled along by a pack of bicycles, a motorcycle, or another skater, drafting is heaven and heaven is drafting.

I'll never forget the elation of catching the draft of the Cal Women's Cycling Team on
Skyline Boulevard after months of unceremoniously getting dropped during training rides on the approach up Tunnel Road. I had hell to pay on Tunnel Road. Sometimes those girls left me doubled over in the skinnny shade of a telephone pole. It wasn't until the spring of '89 when I first made it to the top of Tunnel without getting jettisoned along the way.

The grade of Tunnel pitches between 5 and 8 percent, steep enough to preclude going fast enough to get the benefit of a draft. Staying with the pack on skates, therefore, required massive energy expenditure. I can still feel the tree-trunk arms, the dancing motes in my field of vision, the strips of saliva I was too tired swipe away.

I also vividly recall the age-old internal battle being waged in my mind, the "why am I doing this to myself?" questions that kept cropping up when the pain got severe. At times like these, two turns before cresting the top and on the verge of imminent disaster, I'd summon Jim Morrison into my head. "Break on through," he wailed, "break on through, break on through to the other side."

Skyline Boulevard was the other side, sweet relief from the excruciating struggle of climbing. If I could stay with the bikes to the top, I was guranteed a ticket to ride on the other side. In the shelter of the pack's draft I became invincible, scant minutes after nearly being shattered to bits on the way up. No matter how hard the cyclists tried to drop me, I was always there, comfortably ensconced in a quiet pocket of air, effortlessly being borne along as if in another world.

That other world -- the draft -- had eluded me for so many miles before I finally realized its incredible power. To gain entrance into the draft, I admit it: I paid my dues with wracking discomfort. In retrospect, the pain I endured was fleeting but the gain I derived was gargantuan. Once strong enough to get in the draft, you should learn to stay in it for the life of you, for to lose the draft is to die a slow death. If you can just break on through, then other side will reward you with new vigor and eternal breath.


Draftology

Above 17 miles per hour wind drag seems to increase exponentially with each additional mile per hour. That's why it's advantagous to get behind someone and cut out frontal resistance altogether. With no onrushing wind against your body you can save something like 20 to 30 percent of your energy.

Skating in the draft during a race can make the difference between having the time of your life and never wanting to do it again. In a race like the 87 mile Athens to Atlanta ultramarathon, this especially holds true. Here are some tips to staying alive in the draft:


1) Spooning is good. Imitate the same stroke frequency as the skater in front of you so you can tuck in as close as possible to get most out of the draft. You may click skates a few times at first but with practice you'll get the hang of it.

2) Don't draft strangers. Some people don't take too kindly to being tailgated, believe me. If you're drafting behind a bicycle, ask first, then get up as close as possible without touching the back tire. If by chance the bicyclist slows suddenly, you have only to straddle the tire, and if necessary, put a hand on the seatpost for a bit of braking assistance.

3) Feather the accellerator. Skaters don't have nearly the same acccelleration or decelleration on demand as do bicycles and motorcycles, so it's incumbent on the person providing the draft to speed up or slow down very gradually so as not to drop or stack up the skater. A typical scenario is for the drafter to create a gap, then overcompensate by braking too much, then taking off too fast again, and so on, leaving the draftee in a constant no-man's land.

4)Know the effects of terrain. Even the tiniest hills and dales have a marked effect on speed, so if you're on a motorcycle or moped fiving someone else a draft, get to know how much to speed up going downhill and how much to slow up going up.

5) Establish signals. Constant communication is the best way to keep together, and the simpler the better. If I want my motorpacer, Greg Wong, to bump up it up or down a notch, a simple thumbs up or down suffices when he's constantly checking his side view mirrors. If the speed is just right, I'll flash him a flat hand. Behind a bicycle, I'll yell "Gas" or "Whoah," to giddy-up or to ease up, and if everything's hunky-dory, "Good, good," works fine every time.

6) Break on Through Now, Go to Heaven Later. If you begin falling out of the draft and swimming on your own, don't be lulled into complaceny and tell yourself you'll work your way back on gradually. It won't happen. Fight to catch back on as if your life depended on it -- because it does. Throw everything you have into it, including the kitchen sink. Use your hips, sit a little lower, push with your heels, and drive those knees forward, do anything it takes to regain the protective pocket of air that's your savior. Don't wait. Worry about catching your breath and letting your legs recover once you're back in the draft, that wondrous fold of heavenly repose.

Eddy Matzger is a 10 year veteran of the sport with over a hundred wins to his credit. This year he'll try to make it 4 for 8 at the New York City 100K National Championships and 5 for 10 at the Athens to Atlanta 87 mile road skate. Keep informed of Eddy's activities by visiting his website at www.SkateCentral.com.