Ode to the machine

Women, half-machine. Half-man, half-machine.

 This is who we are.

 There are few sports where performance depends as much on equipment as it does on fitness. Or rather, to be more accurate (because a good bike doesn't turn a donkey into a thoroughbred), it depends on a perfect harmony between the body and the object that allows us to increase our human strength tenfold, turning us into racing cars, birds flying to the tops of mountains, or daredevils devouring downhill slopes.

This is undoubtedly what explains our obsession with these objects.

 The entire physical experience is affected by the bike. Let's repeat: these are two mechanisms that come together to form a whole. When the union is perfect, the result is often greater than the sum of its parts.

 The legs. They are composed of tissue and bone, all connected to a vast chain of muscles. They are pistons. Moving parts of engines that activate levers that turn in perfect circles to activate chains, sprockets, and wheels. The torso leans over the Handlebar better defy wind friction. It maintains its position thanks to the back muscles, abdominals, and flexibility of the hips.

 Its ability to bend combines with the aerodynamics of the frame, the composition of the tires, and the smoothness of the bearings to minimize friction points and energy loss, thereby improving the efficiency of that post-human machine that is the cyclist on their bike.

 So, on the one hand, there is the time and effort we put into sculpting our bodies to improve our performance. And on the other, there is a machine that allows us to enhance that power and deliver it with the highest possible quality.

 The perfection of the machine's movement is a constant incentive to add finesse to the raw power of our motor. The fitting is part of this. As are the quality of the pedaling, the position of the arms and shoulders.

And then there is beauty.

 The machine inspires movement. Legs spinning smoothly, knees aligned, back forming a perfect curve. What better tribute can be paid to the sublime form of a bicycle than to train your body to match its spirit, to become one with it?

 All of a cyclist's obsessions can be summed up in this idea of living up to the excellence of cutting-edge technology. And constantly changing to improve your game in terms of fitness while improving the mechanics.

 Some may criticize me for seeking an explanation for what is nothing more than a manifestation of the prevailing fetishism of our consumer societies. However, I believe that bicycles are different. It's not that we always have to change them to enjoy them. But there are few things that, for me and many of my peers, can be likened to a kind of encounter between material and the human spirit that elevates us. That are almost sacred.

 Few things bring me as much joy as a new bike. I am writing this while waiting for a brand new one. And I know that, unlike the vast majority of other things I desire (because no, I am not immune to consumerism), the pleasure I will get from using it will be a thousand times greater than the pleasure of coveting it and waiting for it.

 Riding is one of the most wonderful things I get to do. Performing on a machine that showcases human ingenuity and meets my standards of beauty allows me to take some of these sporting moments to another level.

 The sound of a perfectly designed and adjusted mechanism, the feeling of perfect power transfer, the sound of carbon wheels humming as I stand on the pedals: add to that a beautiful landscape, strong legs, and the joy of solitude at high speed, and you get something that resembles a moment of grace.