Monday, June 15, 2015

On Why Being a Weight Weenie is Just a Stupid Waste of Energy

In 2011 when I went shopping for a mountain bike suitable for taking to Leadville, Colorado to race I got into a protracted discussion with my good friend Richard at Arvada Bike about cost versus weight ratio.

I say Richard was a good friend because he was able to say in a frank but considerate manner: don't worry about the bike, just drop the weight from your own frame.

Instantly I saw he was right.  Long before I started down the path to Leadville I was carrying around the equivalent of a fat bike in weight on my body.  Instead of obsessing over 3x9 versus 1x11 to save a few grams, or carbon versus aluminum, I just needed to lay off the Ho-Hos.

And while I've not crammed a fistful of Ho-Hos in my mouth in probably twenty years or more I have found comparable caloric substitutes.  The logical approach would be to find the most durable bike with the least resistance to forward motion and just eat like a normal person.

Return of the PoCo Peloton

I'm down to 196 from 200 in two weeks.  My goal is to get down to 185 by July 15.  I think I might finally be on my way to componentry obsession.  Cause, y'know, once you hit your goal body weight there's nothing left to obsess over but your gear.

Nah, I don't plan on caring one whit about bike weight.  I see benefits of reducing drag, friction, and improving efficiency, but a heavy bike isn't going to hold me back.  I'm a mid-pack guy with the boat anchor I carry around my middle now.  Imagine how fast I'll be when I jettison all this blubbery ballast.

Saturday I was down that mere four pounds and was able to claim a slew of PRs and improve my leaderboard standing on a few local Strava Segments.  Most notably I had a PR on Sky Bridge Hill.

But in a twist of further misconception it is likely that PR is a direct result of improved technology.  Last time I rode the Gorge Loop I was still using my phone app to run Strava.  It was this past Christmas that I was bestowed my Garmin by that fat old saint.

I have to sigh loudly thinking about the ripple of implications that sends through my ego. was a PR.  Better GPS tracking shows I'm faster than I thought I was.

Climbing Sky Bridge Hill inspired me.  Cobhill awaits out in the wilds of Estill County.  Harts Orchard lurks just right around the corner from my house.  As close as Furnace is I haven't been up it this year yet.

High Rock...oh, High Rock!

It's time for the dawn patrol to get serious.

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