Cycling gives immediate gratification for hard work. Pedaling hard? You're rewarded with the wind in your hair and the world passing you by at 25 mph. Big climb? Look forward to an exhilarating downhill where even your inner speed demon comes face to face with cold hard fear. When I'm zooming down a hill at over 35 mph, all that's running through my mind is *Omg*, pleeeze let there be no loose gravel, sand, crazy drivers, or sudden gusts of wind. But... Oh. WhatARush!
Before last year, the last time I had ridden a bike regularly was back in college in the early 90s. I had a white Schwinn 10-speed. It had brake levers on both the curvy and straight parts of the handlebars so I could brake with my hands in either position. The two gear shift levers were located right where the handlebars met the frame, in the center of the bike. I loved that thing.
Fast forward 20 years. Deb, my friend from work who is a cyclist meets me at the house of somebody from her cycling club who was selling his racing bike. He brings it out.
It only had one set of brakes, located on the curvy part of the handlebars. Ok. No biggie. I can learn to ride like that.
It also had clipless pedals. Ok. I've vaguely heard about those too. Something about special shoes that actually attach to special pedals so that you can pull up as well as push down. I can learn how to ride with that too. (Most people will fall at least once while learning how to ride clipless... all the while looking like a complete idiot. It's a right of passage.)
It wasn't until I started test riding the bike when I realized that I had no idea how to shift gears. The two familiar shift levers are nowhere to be found.. "Push in your brakes," Deb said. Whaaa? Turns out you squeeze the brakes to stop, but you push the entire brake inwards to shift gears in one direction, and push this other little paddle next to the brake to shift in the other direction. This way, you can shift without ever moving your hands. Genius!
Knowing absolutely nothing about bikes, I bought this one based entirely on Deb's say so. :)
A year later, I still know very little about bikes. I couldn't point out the "bottom bracket" if my life depended on it, for example... and I do know enough to know that is an embarrassing admission. (Deb finally pointed it out to me today after I told her about this blog.) I thought it might have been interesting to share a little of what I *have* learned. Maybe explain the differences between aluminum, carbon, and titanium frames. Between Campagnolo, Shimano, and SRAM components. Between a road bike and a triathlon/time trail bike. Then I realized that to try to do all of that would take up more space than most of you probably have the patience or interest to read.
Let's just say that if you enjoy shopping, or love reading about or drooling over the latest gadgets and toys, then cycling is your sport, my friend. The easiest way I can explain buying a new high end bike is that it's very much like buying a new computer. You can either buy one prebuilt from a company like Dell, or you can buy all the parts separately and built it yourself. But even Dell allows you to customize your machine by upgrading the processor, or memory, video card, or whatever. Bike makers are like that too, except instead of CPU, memory or video, you select components like derailleurs, cranksets, and shifters that come in a wide variety of quality, materials, weight, and prices. People will often keep the same frame and just upgrade components as the years go by instead of replacing the entire bike. To take the analogy further, just like in the old days when you could not mix and match Apple and PC parts, or Canon and Nikon lenses, cyclists must choose between Italian Campagnolo ("Campy") or Japanese Shimano components.
See, I'm already boring you. Suffice it to say that these are not your father's 10-speeds. They are mechanical marvels that can cost upwards of $8-10k new if you want to ride like Lance Armstrong. Ya. For a fricken bicycle! (The fact that it is even within the realm of possibility to ride what Lance rides is kinda amazing. Imagine being able to take Jimmie Johnson's race car out for a spin every weekend!) I think it's pretty clear now that cycling is not a cheap sport. One wheel alone could run you more than $2k if you want to get fancy and have money to burn. When you're driving around on the weekend, most of the bikes that you see on the road ridden by anyone wearing a cycling outfit will range anywhere between $1k - $6k new.
[Incidentally, there's a reason why we wear those outfits. Chaffing. Ass padding. Aerodynamic. Once upon a time, I made fun of these cycling weenies. Not anymore. :) ]
That all said, don't let any of this scare you away from triathlons! As Lance himself has famously said, it's not about the bike. It really isn't. I estimate that the vast majority of cyclists out there (certainly including myself) are not at the level where they can fully appreciate the awesomeness of their bike. Much to my friend Gary's dismay, that used bike I bought had full Dura-Ace, which is top of the line Shimano. *Com.plete.ly* wasted on me. I'd venture that most riders in my cycling club could kick my ass on a $100 Huffy purchased at Walmart.
All you need to finish a tri is a working bike with two wheels. Don't have one? Borrow one. Or buy a $50 clunker off Craigslist. I've seen grown men ride BMX bikes in the shorter races. Mountain bikes or hybrids are more common than you think. People aren't going to think any less of you for showing up at a race with a mountain bike. If after a race or two, you decide to get more serious about this whole triathlon thing, you can start thinking about getting a road bike. Or maybe even a time trial bike. The important thing is to just get out there and do it. :)
