Bike Snob - Anonymous [60]
Well, when it comes to bikes, there is such a thing as normal discomfort. The more time you spend on a bike at a stretch, the more uncomfortable you’re going to get. You’re going to get tired. Your body is going to ache from staying in the same position. Even your bed with the down mattress cover and high-thread-count sheets will revolt against you and give you bedsores if you don’t turn over every once in a while. Obviously some of this discomfort can be dialed out of the bike by making adjustments and part changes, but at some point the only way to get more comfortable on the bike is to ride the thing more and train your body to deal with it better—and even then, eventually you’re just going to have to get off the damn thing and stop riding, just like eventually you’ve got to get out of bed. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable because of your parts or your bike fit. Sometimes you’re uncomfortable because you’re riding wrong, or you’re thinking about riding wrong.
But discomfort is a great way to justify new stuff, and some people use discomfort to justify the most coveted of all cycling purchases—the custom-built bicycle. All cyclists love to drool over custom, handmade bikes, and I’m certainly no exception. There are also a lot of great reasons to get them. Not only are you supporting a craftsperson, but sometimes you also need a bike that’s simply not available from a mass manufacturer. Perhaps you live in the rain forest and commute to a job in a research station so you need a 29er mountain bike with racks, pontoons, and a front-end machete mount. Or perhaps your proportions are unusual and you simply need someone to build you a bicycle that will fit. All of these things make sense.
However, some people of common proportions well supported by the bike industry and with cycling needs that are well addressed by pretty much every bike company out there still convince themselves that they need a custom bike to be “comfortable.” If you’re having a bicycle built for you with a custom seat tube angle that could just as easily be achieved on your current bicycle by sliding your saddle forward or backward by two millimeters, than you may want to consider the possibility that you’re indulging yourself. And there’s nothing wrong with indulging yourself, but if left unchecked indulging yourself can lead to deluding yourself. Perfection doesn’t exist, and the more doggedly you pursue it the more elusive it proves. Before you know it you’re broke and trying to sell your custom road bike with the 72.89485-degree seat angle and 57.90204-degree head tube angle on the Serotta forums to a bunch of people whose needs are equally specific and similarly unattainable.
So if you’re uncomfortable, think about why. Don’t be afraid to move stuff around, and don’t be afraid to ask questions. But also understand that cycling involves sensations, and not all of them are pleasurable.
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*If you’re European or pretentious, simply convert Fahrenheit to Celsius and substitute Steve Guttenberg with Gérard Depardieu.
CORROSION OF CONFORMITY
Rules vs. fashion
I’m the paté on the universal cracker. I’m the grout holding your shower tiles on. I’m out of the saddle, sprinting up that hill and eating glazed donut bracelets off the right arm of Jesus.
—Charles Manson
Cycling is full of rules, and rules are tricky things. Generally, rules are created for a good reason. Take sell-by dates on foods. Rules against selling food after a certain date are a good thing, because they prevent us from becoming violently ill, and while certain things only get better with age there are very few circumstances in which you should eat “vintage food.” However, rules often hang around so long that people forget why they were created in the first place. Kosher dietary laws,