As the Belgian Tour de France legend Eddy Merckx once said, “Don’t buy upgrades; ride up grades.” He was referring to the idea that high-tech bike mods will never outweigh the value of good, old-fashioned time in the saddle. Many seasoned road cyclists will tell you that consistency is key when it comes to training, and only by utilizing a rigorous training routine can an aspiring weekend warrior become a member of the professional peloton. This idea doesn’t seem to reach everyone, though, as the recreational weight weenie exists as the nightmarish yet bottomless financial well of every bike shop on Earth. The appearance of a weight weenie is distinct: typically clad in a mesh jersey, they straddle their five-figure-priced steed with an engraved look of skepticism, wondering if there is any way he can continue to shed weight from his bike.
Since the beginning of the modern era of the sport, marginal gains have played into the very essence of cycling culture. As Tim Krabbe notes in his book, The Rider, French cyclist Jacques Anquetil used to remove his bottles from his bottle cages before big climbs and put them in his back pockets, with the idea that doing so would remove weight from his bike. As foolish as that sounds, he managed to win five Tours with that mindset. The International Cycling Union (UCI) currently has a minimum weight requirement of 6.8 kilograms (around 15 pounds) to combat the possibility of companies taking this too far and creating structurally unstable frames, but this hasn’t stopped those with deep pockets from breaking such a regulation on their local roads. Companies such as Trek have taken jabs at creating the world’s lightest production road bike, with their Emonda coming in at around 13.4 pounds. This featherweight machine may cost a whopping $11,000, but that is a worthy price to some of the more eccentric consumers in the industry.
All in all, there is some merit that can be granted to the ideology of the weight weenie. While it has been proven that factors like aerodynamics have a much more pivotal role in making a bike faster, there’s just something about cruising around on a bike that you can lift with your pinky finger that makes riding it that much more special. It’s a dying art, as carbon fiber parts are becoming increasingly expensive by the day, but it’s hard to doubt that someone out there is still on the hunt for marginal gains. Eddy Merckx still stands with the correct idea about how a true athlete is made, but sometimes you just have to appreciate other people’s needs to geek out.
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