Everyone, as you know, is on Zwift. Geraint Thomas, your mates, that guy you nod at in town because he looks a bit cyclist-y. Maybe even your nana?
All on Zwift.
Some people, I’m told, even consider Zwift a spectator sport. After a hard evening Zwift-ing they like nothing better than to hang out in sweaty rooms and watch other people going at it, hammer and tongs, for lolz.
I can’t say I approve.
In fact, I’m that guy, there’s always one, who’s never Zwift-ed and has no intention of doing so.
I’m not anti-technology, or anti indoor cycling. I am, I think, anti-Zwift-as-spectator-sport, but what people get up to in a brightly lit room in a public setting is, in this modern world of ours, simultaneously all of my business and none of it.
My issue with Zwift is one of screen time.
I spend much of my working day (unless I’ve executed the fabled early dart) in front of a screen. I then sometimes come home and, like a millennial moth to a digital flame, voluntarily soak up more of that brilliant blue light. I’m doing it right now.
Last thing I want to do is climb aboard my beloved bike and sully that moment with screen. I want to get away from screen. And technology. Specifically all clicking, swiping, and entering of endless bloody passwords.
I want to hear my breathing and feel my pedal stroke. I want to appreciate the moment. And if that makes me a hummus-eating-yoghurt-weaver well then pass me the carrot sticks…I’m going in!
I don’t say this to feign superiority. I’m not judging others. I’m not better than Zwift; it would undoubtedly make me a faster cyclist, but do I need to hone my FTP and expand my V02 Max, or is it enough to feel good?
In the moment.Embed from Getty Images
In competition with neither myself, or anyone else. Virtually, or otherwise. In the garage, riding the rollers, tatty picture of Laurent Fignon pinned to the wall for company.
The Frenchman, I feel, would’ve approved.
(Top Image: via https://vimeo.com/127887878)