Thursday Thoughts: Cyclocomputers

The question comes up at the shop.  “Do you have something that can show me miles?”  The answer is, of course, a “cyclocomputer.”  As soon as I say it, I have to explain that this doesn’t mean you have to learn an operating system.  We call them “computers” because they do a lot more than just measure speed.  The most basic units on the market show current speed, average speed for the ride, distance ridden, and usually the time of day.  But some of these gadgets have tremendous capabilities.

Some cyclocomputers can record and display more information than is good for anyone to know.  The very high end ones do calculations regarding power output, elevation changes, route maps, heart rate data, and more.

I’m a numbers guy.  I like to know how far I’ve ridden, and how long, and what my pedal cadence is.  I like to record that stuff.  I enjoy measuring my world.  How far is it from A to B by this route?  How long does it take to climb that hill?  How fast did I go on that descent?  I get a kick out of these numbers.  I also use computers to help me schedule maintenance on my bikes.  The numbers also help me to install accountability in my routines.

The events I enjoy riding are based on a type of touring.  The idea is that the rider is self-sufficient.  Riders are expected to be able to navigate.  (Cue sheets are provided, but there is no road paint!)  My Randonee’ bike has two computers, and a mapping GPS on it.  It also has a cuesheet holder.  This redundancy is for reliability.  (I have, on several occasions been reduced to nothing more than a soggy cuesheet and a wristwatch.)

There is a funny kind of dynamic tension associated with cyclocomputers.  On the one hand, the numbers are interesting.  On the other, the computer can become a real distraction.  The little gizmo can become the only thing a rider sees. 

Here’s a scenario:

Observer:  “How was your ride?”

Cyclist:  “I averaged 19mph, for 21.32 miles.”

O:  It must be nice to get out at this time of year, the wind in your face and all.”

C:  “My cadence is a little low, only averaging 82rpm.”

O:  “Did you see that amazing sunset?”

C:  “Huh?”

Maybe that’s why so many, otherwise intelligent and cautious, cyclists blast through stop signs.  After all, if your world is confined to the view of the numbers in the little window, it’s hard to see the sign.

In short, a bike computer is a tool.  It has its good and proper uses.  But no tool should be allowed to become an object of worship.  If we don’t use our tools wisely, they end up using us.