Crankology

The performance gains of new gear

There’s a special kind of inspiration that’s part of our greatest athletic achievements – whether those be Olympic feats of power and grace or limping across the finish line of a local masters race like the pack fodder we are. It’s what gives us the juice to win the medal – or simply finish the race faster than the poor sod who struggles to the end just behind us. Where does this inspiration come from, and how can we summon it up? If I could answer these questions, I’d be raking it in on the speaking circuit, or at the very least eking out a modest living as a cycling coach.

It won’t surprise any of you to learn that I don’t have the answers to these (or indeed most) questions. That is to say, I can’t point to the source of inspiration for others. But I can tell you what lights a fire for me. And who knows – maybe you’ll find that the same is true for you.

I’m inspired by gear. That’s right – new, shiny stuff. It makes me ride faster, run harder, wake up earlier, eat better and drink less. It pushes me to new heights of achievement not because of any material properties the new shiny thing has, other than the shininess itself, but the sense of possibility that the product imparts.

I’m an advertiser’s dream because I’m easily seduced by evocative words and compelling images. Show me a picture of a sleek bike carving a perfect line through a misty alpine pass, and I’m sold. Add in a few poetic lines or a quote from a Grand Tour champion of yore and I’ll buy two of them.

The thing is, while much of this may be smoke and mirrors, it actually works. I do ride faster on that new bike. I know I’m not alone in this, which leads me to believe that there’s an opportunity for a bored graduate student somewhere to complete a PHD thesis entitled “The Psychomotor Effects of Major Sporting Goods Purchases on Short-term Athletic Performance in Middle-aged Athletes.”

Furthermore, at least for me, it’s not just new bikes that have this effect, although it does help if the item in question is expensive. Late last year, I bought a fancy gps watch and a new pair of running shoes. I was going on a trip where I would not have a bike, so I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose any fitness while I was away. I haven’t run regularly in recent years, so the wise approach would have been to ramp up gradually. But I’ve never claimed to be wise; I took the opposite path. I strapped on my new watch and shoes and ran 10 km the first day – and every day after that for a full week.

By Day 3, my body was quite sore and I had terrible blisters. But I couldn’t stop. The watch wouldn’t let me. It kept beeping every kilometre, telling me my pace. Being a competitive person, I had to keep battling to go faster. By the end of the week, I had run myself into shape, knocked nearly five minutes off my 10 km time, and reignited my long-dormant love of running. I was also 4 kg lighter.

My love affair with the gps watch and the running shoes is not over, but I’m feeling the itch for the next shiny thing. This, of course, is a new bike. I have a fantastic race bike that I’ve had for about seven years. It’s far from being worn out. It’s also far more bike than I need. By all logical measures, there’s no reason for me to get another one. But I’ve seen the photos of my new bike. I’ve read the poem that was printed alongside those photos. And now when I close my eyes, all I can think about is the feel of the crisp alpine air rushing past me as I descend through the mist, leaving all contenders, and several thousand dollars, in my wake. Now that’s inspiration.