In Defence of Rollers
The modern indoor cycle trainer is a technological marvel; but damn it’s boring. As far as indoor trainers go, you can’t beat a humble set of rollers. Riding rollers taps into the joy of cycling in a way that a Wattbike never will.
Obviously, you need Zwift, right? No, you don 't. Just get yourself a set of rollers.
II tried spinning, for a while. Maybe ten years ago. But the instructor was so popular and the booking system so terrible, there was a real chance of arriving at the gym and not getting a bike. Who the hell wants to be in a gym at 5am, anyway? The smell of stale sweat masked by chorine and detergent, strangers with morning breath…
On the rare occasion that I did manage to get a bike, my heart would panic as it went from ‘asleep’ to ‘WTF?!’ in less than a minute; and I’d spend the rest of the session cursing this glorified form of aerobics, while the sun rose outside without me.
Then, in the lead-up to a tough race I’d entered in 2016, I tried training through the winter on a Wattbike. This was closer to cycling, from a body-response perspective; but it still lacked something essential about cycling – balance maybe, or the sensation of movement.
Plus, all the data introduced a whole raft of new insecurities: is my pedal stroke really that wobbly, my power output really that lame? In the cold glow of that data-packed screen, I felt as exposed as a rat in a bucket.
After that… I just gave up on indoor cycling. It’s too much like exercise. Riding a bike has never been only about exercise for me.
The fitness part is a pleasant side-benefit; but the real reason I love riding is because it clears my head. Being out there, watching the world wake up as mountains fade from pink to gold to grey, turning down a road I’ve never been down before, covered in mud, racing the next cold front along a soggy singletrack…
Then came the Coronavirus. Five weeks of not being able to clear my head. I was terrified.
In the week preceding lockdown, I watched my friends on Strava pedal off into Watopia. I’d be okay, I thought. I’ll try other things.
I tried skipping. And couldn’t walk for three days. I dusted off my old BMX and tried to re-learn how to bunny-hop, but after one bloodied knee I hung it back on the wall. No point burdening the hospital system any further.
With D-day looming, I called in a desperate favour: “Hey, Mike – remember you said I could borrow your rollers?”
Rollers. Until that point, I’d never even seen them in real life. My only experience of rollers was watching Primož Roglič warm up before a time trial at a Grand Tour. And Primož makes rollers look cool: casquette backwards, earphones in, icy stare, a designer bead of sweat rolling off his chiselled jaw…
I watched a Youtube video that explained how you should put the rollers next to a wall if you’re a beginner, so you have something to lean against. I reversed the car out of the garage and found a good spot; then I got out my favourite cap, untangled my greasy headphones, and tucked my stomach into my bib shorts. Primož time.
But when I tried to climb aboard my bike, the front wheel dropped off and I clattered backwards off the rollers. Okay…
Next time round, with the brakes locked, I managed to get on; but those first few pedal strokes felt as if I was trying to learn how to ride a bike again for the first time. On an ice rink.
My elbow was still jammed against the wall. I slowly levered myself off, front wheel wobbling nauseously – and then I was up. I dropped a gear, and stabilised myself with extra speed. With my legs burning, I dared not decelerate for fear of falling off.
On that note – how exactly do you stop, on rollers? It’s nearing the end of lockdown at the time of writing, and I can say with confidence that these rollers have kept me sane. I dug out an old speed sensor, and I’ve been challenging myself to ride as far as possible in an hour. My own hour record.
I’ve ridden rollers on my single-speed bike, on my road bike and on my gravel bike – sometimes all three in one session. Each bike handles completely differently, which focuses the mind and prevents boredom from creeping in. With a dash of danger and a pinch of unpredictability, rollers have proved to me that indoor training can actually be fun.
As a gear editor, it’s rich coming from me, I know; but cycling’s the sort of sport in which it’s so easy to be overwhelmed by the idea that you’ll never be good enough unless you upgrade all the time. Reams of data, the latest electronic drivetrain, carbon flex in all the right areas… And if all your friends are on Zwift, obviously you need Zwift, right?
No, you don’t. Just get yourself a set of rollers. The path to happiness is so awesomely analogue. You don’t have to take the back wheel off your bike, or use a special tyre, and you don’t have to be near a plug point or a Wi-fi router. Just get on and go, and rediscover the simple pleasure of spinning your legs and moving through space, even though you’re standing dead still.
Sorry, Mike – you’re not getting your rollers back anytime soon.