Tech’s place in a cyclist’s heart
According to Strava, my last ride put me over 34,000 miles for my career, and I’m 8 away from 1,000 rides.
Of course, none of that is remotely accurate as to what I’ve actually ridden in 43 years. I started cycling well before anyone even had computers, let alone electronic shifting, and I didn’t start manically recording my rides until 2020 (the COVID effect is wide and varied). In fact, for the longest time, just like my father, I was anti-device, mostly because the electronic tools available in 2007 were frustratingly awful. I stopped recording or tracking anything, with vehemence, for over 10 years.
When I did succumb to the need to record what I was doing, I refused to have a readout that I could see- I would push the button on my phone, put the phone in my pocket then look at it after all was said and ridden, so that nothing could distract me. My personal pseudo-luddite years were led by the belief that I could use my senses to perceive the same level of detail as anything that could record. I wasn’t wrong.
Remember getting lost? Remember needing to make decisions on the fly about which way to go, carrying a paper map that could unfold and show you what may or may not have been your location, and how to take your next step? If you learn to read the contours of the land, the information you receive is endless and continuous, if not always accurate. You get mighty good at pushing and carrying your bike after a few times lost.
I finally bought a Wahoo Bolt because I went off course 7 times in the FOCO Fondo in 2022. Up until that point, race promoters went out and posted signs as to where to turn at every potential spot. Whitney and Zach decided the rest of the world needed to get up to speed, so they kinda posted some signs in some places. It was a little funny at mile 27, not at all at mile 112 and as I crossed the line at 142 miles, angry for the first time ever, I decided that it really wasn’t their fault, I needed to get with the program.
If you learn how to download a route to the headunit attached to your handlebars, the parameters of exploring and being lost change dramatically. The paper maps that I used to pour over before heading out are now online versions from 10 different sources, cross referenced,verified, and loaded accurately (with some practice, I’m here to tell you!), to let me go confidently into the unknown. Now, rather than paying attention to which way the ridge ahead is falling, I can track my metrics on how I am riding, in real time, while following the line on the map on my computer. Beeps tell me when I am lost and whether I should take the next left to get back on course.
My father is appalled. He believes that riding is done for the soul. He balks at the mere idea that anyone else should care, let alone be interested, in where he has ridden, how far he went, the amount of elevation gained, the effort exerted, how slowly he completed the ride, or even how many calories he really should be consuming given his attempt. Of course, no matter how many times we try to teach him when he asks us, he promptly forgets (?) to remember to plug his phone into his truck to make ApplePlay work so he can use the map.
He is 84. I’m 54.
Some on my Strava feed are teenagers. I have “friends” all over the world that I’ve been watching ride for years. There’s a guy who’s been in my Strava universe for 5 years and I have no idea how we became connected- since Jan 1, 2022 he has taken a total of two weeks off the bike but ridden all over the planet, never posting a picture of himself, just the scenery, and it’s cool every single time.
Then there’s Henry. I started following him because he had ridden the farthest (385 miles) in the Strava event I participated in that day. He’s now famous for the “silly o’clock ride” 100 riders do at 4am to beat the traffic and the heat; I’ve watched as the whole of Nigerian cycling has formed around him. I have several followers myself from Nigeria who have tagged me after commenting on Henry’s escapades. When he went to the World Championships in Rwanda with his team, we all got to see him high fiving and dancing with Remco while the Nigerians came across him out on the road. If you haven’t witnessed Nigerians dancing with Belgians, while everyone wears spandex, then you don’t know what the Internet is for.
Each day I check in on my friends from all over the world, kudos-ing their rides, commenting on their fitness, watching what happens in their races, tours, and training rides. You people do some amazing things, truly, and it inspires me to keep raising the bar.
Last weekend we organized another ride for Cork and Spoke, this time it was Brian’s idea and route. We still got lost when all 6 of us missed the beeping turn, re-routed, rode deep into unknown country, made calls to each other when Brian broke a chain and cheered when Brad fixed it, found Brian’s fiancée who brought his extra bike, water and snacks for the rest of us (we can talk about the missing whiskey and pickle juice another time). That’s us in the photo at the top. We were the 30th-36th riders to ever ride up that hill, according to Strava, faster than some, slower than the guys who did the Roan cliff hillclimb in 2014, all 4 of them. And all of that is exactly what makes a cyclist a social soul — it’s what you know.
I’ve already had a message from one of the guys in the photo asking if I want to try out this other crazy ride he’s mapped out. Anyone else want in?
Cheers
