Strava is killing me. I understand that pretty much half of the professional road cyclists in Canada live in my township, that they own bikes that are better equipped and weigh roughly a quarter of what mine does and that most probably have a genetic advantage over me, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to stomp the KOMs that I see on my area map.
Right now my legs are absolutely killing me. I can barely walk up a decent flight of stairs, because my muscles are so sore. I’m convinced that if got my hands on a better bike that I’d be putting some of these pros to shame, but I don’t let that discourage me from attempting that on my Record. Such is the delusion of so called gamification. Aside from wishing for a new bike that I can’t possibly afford or justify the cost of, I also need to get over my fear of being hit from behind by sociopaths in their Benzes, doing 120km in 80km zones, passing me at only about a foot of clearance, because that’s holding me back more than anything. I end up giving only part effort once I hear the distinct sound of an erratic driver approaching me from behind. What’s the opposite of killer instinct?
My cycling suit finally arrived and I decided to put it to the test.
On the left, my highest speed while wearing my usual/former cycling attire of an extra small work-out shirt and a pair of work-out shorts. On the right, my highest speed while wearing the cycling suit, which is a full-length Spandex get up.
Hardly scientific, but as you can see, there’s an appreciable aerodynamic advantage to the cycling suit.
Despite spending a month in Greece without a bike until my last two days there, I still managed to break 1000KMs. However, a recent week of terribly cold and rainy weather meant that I couldn’t meet my goal of achieving this by the end of the summer, but all things considered I’m just glad to have done so. Even if my expression conveys otherwise.