If you are a man and a cyclist then I guarantee you will have bought some piece of kit that you really neeeeded because the magazine said it would make you faster, make you a better climber, give you better stamina, make you a better sprinter…. basically, turn you into something that you were not before you had this, inevitably, expensive upgrade.
Am certainly not passing judgement. In the past I have been very guilty of thinking I could bolt on lighter wheels or a more aerodynamic saddle and this would replace getting out there and putting the work in.
It got me thinking, just how much do you have to spend to make an average cyclist good? Can bloody good kit make the fat lad at the back compete somewhere in the middle of the pack?
In truth, I think the answer is “yes”. Good kit can change your overall performance, make you faster, more competitive, give you the edge but ultimately you will still be you.
I was lucky enough to try out a ten thousand pound road bike around Richmond Park last Summer. This thing was beautiful. As I clipped in I was pretty sure my shoes were actually heavier than the frame and forks. The ride was electric, it felt alive, so responsive to my every whim. The only downside to the whole bike was the person riding it.
Shortly after my Richmond Park experience my friend James and I took a trip to the Isle of Wight to follow the Randonee course, with a spot of lunch somewhere in the middle. This was to be my second trip the Isle. On the first one the previous year with my club I had foolishly not done a single bit of research, had no idea just how hilly it was and was promptly dropped within the first ten miles. This time the pace would be lower and I was determined to have a bit more fun.
While I had come as Rapha Man, James turned up wearing cargo shorts, carrying a back pack and riding a Specialized Allez from circa 1994 (his current road bike having suffered a frame fracture the previous week). And as such we set off….
Here is where we come to the lesson of this piece. For the next 97km James kicked my arse up hill and down dale in his cargo shorts and back pack. Even when the mech hanger of his prehistoric Allez imploded around sixty km in, meaning he basically rode the final 40km on a fixie, I could barely keep up on my superpower carbon Giant and flyweight Rapha cap. For all the technology, all the modern warfare that I had on my side it simply could not compete with James being that bit fitter.
So, yes, by all means “invest” in all the gear if it makes you happy and you get a kick out of it. I still do, to a certain extent, but I am also coming to terms with the fact that no matter how cool my bibshorts are it’s the legs inside them that need to do the job.
The Road Cycling Blog 