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Our fast-paced culture’s fascination with the newest technology has begun to spread to all walks of life. This facet of American society can be best seen in the world of professional sports. It’s a known fact that if it wasn’t for the advertisement industry the majority of professional sports would cease to exist. Every commercial break and stadium backdrop highlights dozens of commercial products every minute. The United States has been famous for this for decades but only recently did European sports follow in our footsteps. Activities that we associate as European such as rugby, soccer, and cricket have all jumped on the bandwagon.
These displays of materialism have even invaded my preferred sport of cycling. Never was this more apparent than when I was watching this year’s Tour de France. Every section of a stage, from the sprint points to the climbs’ summits, was sponsored by some organization trying to sell their product. After those three weeks of intense media coverage, I felt like every piece of gear I owned was completely inadequate. With the majority of high end bikes now weighing under a kilogram and ride computers I swear can do more than my cell phone, how is the average guy supposed to keep up?
In general, fascination with the best gear is unique among the other endurance sports. Swimmers and runners have only so much equipment they need, and I don’t see the evolution of running shorts taking off any time soon.
I learned a while ago that the longer you aim to go on bicycle the less important having the best gear becomes. Sure there are physical and physiological advantages to using high-end equipment like expending less energy to accomplish the same task as well as thinking you’re faster and stronger, but the great thing about endurance sports is that it levels the playing field for everyone. These sports don’t require special skills or a fat bank account to be competitive, only the drive to win.
Undoubtedly, running a hundred miles, swimming across the England Channel, or seeing how many miles you can cycle in 24 hours are extremely difficult challenges. And when you’re competing in one of these events, with all the sweat and blood that goes into your effort all the superficial layers of your personality fades away. That’s why I think everything that doesn’t prepare you for that experience is just a distraction.
For example, about a year ago I switched from a pair of drop handlebars to a bullhorn-style pair. The main reason I switched is because I find drop handlebars awkward. Your forearms are too close to the bars, the brakes are located too far up, and when I go to steer I feel I don’t have adequate control. Sure there are some downsides to using bullhorns: there’s a limited number of hand positions (actually only one if you have aerobars) and your wrists are bent at uncomfortable angles. But when I’m trying to cycle 200 miles I don’t want to spend any mental energy worrying about where to put my hands. Going into a race I know my hands are going to go numb and halfway through pain will begin to shoot up my forearms. But 50 miles from the starting line I begin to enter a zone of stillness within my mind, a place where the pain is almost translucent. The air rushing past my ears registers like the static of a nearby television set. Houses, trees, and cars wash by in a fusion of colors, and all I’m focusing on is that white line that seems to stretch on for an eternity. It is both an uplifting and dulling experience at once, and the farthest thing from my mind is making slight adjustments on the saddle or constantly switching my hand position.
Every athlete who’s pushed beyond the normal boundaries of human endurance is familiar with these feelings. And I bet most of them would rather stick to equipment and gear that they like rather than something newer and supposedly “better”.
While one of the goals endurance athletes is to lessen the amount of suffering we experience during an upcoming event, worrying about too many variables takes away not only from the quality of our training but also our ability to focus. Instead of spending all your time searching for the lightest and fastest parts just concentrate on the task in front of you. Besides, a couple grams won’t make much difference over 12 hours of pedaling.
Kyle Beck
Blogger, Athlete
passionispain.com
These displays of materialism have even invaded my preferred sport of cycling. Never was this more apparent than when I was watching this year’s Tour de France. Every section of a stage, from the sprint points to the climbs’ summits, was sponsored by some organization trying to sell their product. After those three weeks of intense media coverage, I felt like every piece of gear I owned was completely inadequate. With the majority of high end bikes now weighing under a kilogram and ride computers I swear can do more than my cell phone, how is the average guy supposed to keep up?
In general, fascination with the best gear is unique among the other endurance sports. Swimmers and runners have only so much equipment they need, and I don’t see the evolution of running shorts taking off any time soon.
I learned a while ago that the longer you aim to go on bicycle the less important having the best gear becomes. Sure there are physical and physiological advantages to using high-end equipment like expending less energy to accomplish the same task as well as thinking you’re faster and stronger, but the great thing about endurance sports is that it levels the playing field for everyone. These sports don’t require special skills or a fat bank account to be competitive, only the drive to win.
Undoubtedly, running a hundred miles, swimming across the England Channel, or seeing how many miles you can cycle in 24 hours are extremely difficult challenges. And when you’re competing in one of these events, with all the sweat and blood that goes into your effort all the superficial layers of your personality fades away. That’s why I think everything that doesn’t prepare you for that experience is just a distraction.
For example, about a year ago I switched from a pair of drop handlebars to a bullhorn-style pair. The main reason I switched is because I find drop handlebars awkward. Your forearms are too close to the bars, the brakes are located too far up, and when I go to steer I feel I don’t have adequate control. Sure there are some downsides to using bullhorns: there’s a limited number of hand positions (actually only one if you have aerobars) and your wrists are bent at uncomfortable angles. But when I’m trying to cycle 200 miles I don’t want to spend any mental energy worrying about where to put my hands. Going into a race I know my hands are going to go numb and halfway through pain will begin to shoot up my forearms. But 50 miles from the starting line I begin to enter a zone of stillness within my mind, a place where the pain is almost translucent. The air rushing past my ears registers like the static of a nearby television set. Houses, trees, and cars wash by in a fusion of colors, and all I’m focusing on is that white line that seems to stretch on for an eternity. It is both an uplifting and dulling experience at once, and the farthest thing from my mind is making slight adjustments on the saddle or constantly switching my hand position.
Every athlete who’s pushed beyond the normal boundaries of human endurance is familiar with these feelings. And I bet most of them would rather stick to equipment and gear that they like rather than something newer and supposedly “better”.
While one of the goals endurance athletes is to lessen the amount of suffering we experience during an upcoming event, worrying about too many variables takes away not only from the quality of our training but also our ability to focus. Instead of spending all your time searching for the lightest and fastest parts just concentrate on the task in front of you. Besides, a couple grams won’t make much difference over 12 hours of pedaling.
Kyle Beck
Blogger, Athlete
passionispain.com
