How I Learned to Love the Trainer
Changing times led to changing rides
Changing times led to changing rides
It was another dark day in February, and I finally found the courage to drag my fluid trainer out from under the bed. The machine was covered in dust. Begrudgingly, I began to mount the trainer tire, and then aimlessly searched for the trainerspecific quick-release skewer.
This was the method of off-season training I had subscribed to for years: put in a handful of 40-minute sweaty sessions watching old cyclocross races and wait for spring. I didn’t
“Ultimately, I’d rather be dropped virtually, than to have never been dropped at all.”
enjoy it, but it made sure I wouldn’t slide too far off the back during early-season training rides. Just the idea of staring at a graph of intervals for five days a week forced me to recoil back onto the couch, chips in hand.
After a month of mindless spinning while watching ’cross, I was finally ready to start riding outside. With less than two months until the first gravel race of 2020, I had some catching up to do.
Of course by mid-march, covid-19 had morphed into a global pandemic and plunged society into lockdown. As the weather warmed, so did the debate about group rides. Many even questioned the safety of riding alone outdoors. What happens if I crash? With emergency rooms and icus at capacity, I decided it wasn’t worth it – so back on went the trainer tire.
But it was different. Everyone I rode with had also made the conscious decision to stay indoors. Strava remained flooded with virtual rides, virtual group rides even, all with smart trainers, Bluetooth fans and dongles, all done on Zwift.
Before that, the first (and last) time I tried Zwift was five years ago. I spun my avatar across an early Watopia and had some fun rocking my poor fluid trainer trying to hit 1,000 W. It was entertaining, but lacked the serious graphs and charts I thought I needed. Now, with training programs and even racing available, I figured it was worth a second try. Ultimately, I’d rather be dropped virtually, than to have never been dropped at all.
I did need a new trainer. I scoured the used market and found a Tacx Neo in great shape. The resistance was smooth and the ride was near silent. More important, wherever my Zwift doppelganger rode, I felt it. From barely being able to turn the pedals climbing up Alpe du Zwift to the rhythmic rumble of dusty cobbled roads, I was fully immersed.
Next was the fan. I replaced my sad tower fan with something twice the size from a hardware store. Paired with the A/C unit in the window, I was going to stay cool as April turned to May. The constant battle with moisture continued as I wrapped my headset and stem with plastic wrap to prevent corrosion caused by my sweat. I had two towels on hand at all times.
With my laptop precariously sitting on a cat tree, I returned day after day to try a new route or attempt a personal record on a climb. And like any good video game, I was rewarded for my consistency. I was unlocking new gear and levelling up, but I was also feeling great on the bike.
Instead of meeting at the coffee shop, organizing group rides now consisted of sharing links to Zoom meetings. A brave group of us managed to complete the 107-km route aptly named The Mega Pretzel on Zwift. A full course of climbing – that included eight bottles, four hours, and two pairs of bib shorts – was both the hardest and strangest (metric) century I’ve ever ridden.
Eventually, as new covid-19 cases dwindled, our summer outdoor rides began. In September, as the mornings got cooler and the days shorter, I actually found myself looking forward to riding with that little pedalling avatar again. I think I’ve actually learned to love the trainer.