Everything I do is measured. Distances accounted for. Design predictable. Somewhat. But where do numbers come from? Certainly not from the little box you’re reading this on. Numbers come from within. From experience. From within.
It took me a few years to get it. Because like any FNG starting from zero, my vocabulary was overrun with magazine speak. The angles do this. The bicycle is stiff. It should disappear from beneath you. And if it does, get a Kryptonite Lock (ed. note – they are no longer made).
I was an early adapter of ignoring the scribes, the road tests, the technical articles. These were conversations I couldn’t grasp. And written in language used more to sell than to inform. My mentorship was served listening to riders. Racers really. To stories told at the dinner table after an event. On the drives home. From coaches. Or anyone who arrived before I did. Or whoever pinned on a number.
Everything has to be someplace. And the miles let you know where hands should go. Or how high the saddle is set. Or where to place the wheels under and around someone with a particular shape. Morphology, if you wanna sound educated.
It’s simple after a while. And easy too. Have an open mind. Ride. Or ride lots. Or ride to win. Or just get the app.