It might be fake racing, but the sweat is real
I’m going to win the fake race for 718th place.
It feels real enough. I’m on my bike pedalling hard and I can see the two guys in front of me doing the same. I can sense a gaggle of riders coming up fast behind, looking to overtake me as the finish line approaches. It feels as authentic as countless other competitive events I’ve done: the rush of adrenalin that comes with trying to beat other people in the final moments — no matter how far we are from the podium.
But my bike isn’t going anywhere. It’s attached to a “smart trainer” in my basement, a don’ttell-my-wife-what-it-cost device that records my effort level and funnels it through my laptop and into a virtual world known as “Zwift.”
The riders on my screen are doing the same, somewhere in the world. One guy is from Iceland, the another from England. In the group behind me Japan, the U.S. and several Canadians are represented. It’s like racing at the United Nations, except the earpieces blast self-selected motivational music instead of translations.
Launched in 2015, Zwift has rapidly become a popular option for winter cycling, particularly for those of us for whom outdoor riding would feature frequent frostbites. There are already more than a half million accounts — monthly fees are just shy of $20 — and at any given time there are several thousand riders racing around various courses.
While noodling around is entertaining enough, there are also free training programs, scheduled group rides and organized races for all skill levels. The avatars are customizable — my hair and beard are far, far more impressive on virtual Drew — and it’s possible to earn goodies like fancy jerseys and improved bikes and wheels.
It looks and feels very much like a video game, but Zwift works hard to ensure the cycling experience is as realistic as possible — which means the determining factor is the level of fitness of the rider.
Which sucks for me, because while I may look unrealistically handsome in Zwift — and I ride a better bike than I could ever afford in the real world — I’m still the same middling, out-of-shape, potato-chip-gorging athlete I’ve always been. Which is why I’m battling hard for 718th place and not a top-10 finish.
Make that 719th place. As per usual, I’ve ramped up my finishing kick too early and my burning quads and heaving lungs are forcing my legs to slow their frenetic churn. My avatar slows down and several chasers shoot past before the line.
Fake bike racing. Real cursing.
Drew Edwards is a recreational cyclist and a professional wine drinker. He can be reached at drew@drewedwards.ca