Today is Sunday, which means it is cycling day. For the past 5 or 6 years, I've ridden my mountain bike at 08:00 every Sunday I can. My partner in crime is a guy called Dave, and over the years our riding has kind of evened out. When we started riding together, Dave was faster up the hills and I was quicker on technical stuff or downhills, but these days there's much less difference between us. Our bikes are pretty standard mid to high-end bikes, with suspension at both ends and 30-odd gears. But now something's changed. Dave has acquired a singlespeed bike. In fact it's not only singlespeed, it's made of steel and has no suspension at all. Back to basics, you might say.
I vaguely remember that back then I intended to make some work-related point about how having no choice was actually quite liberating. That it wasn't necessarily a good idea to remove constraints. That necessity was the mother of invention. I still think that there would be scope for doing something like that, but these days I'm not really so bothered. I've got nothing to sell any more. I'm retired.
These days I too have a singlespeed. Made of steel (853 steel, if you're bothered about that sort of thing). With no suspension. On many days, in the winter usually, it's my favourite bike. There's nothing to it, apart from its essential bike nature. It has a purity about it. Some might say it makes things needlessly difficult, but I'd counter by saying that it makes things utterly simple. Do you have the strength in your body and the quality to your technique to get up that climb? Through that swamp? Over that step? Riding my singlespeed has made me a better rider in all the other disciplines I attempt, even road. I'm stronger, my balance is better, I can pick a better line.
Eight years later, I agree with my 2014 self that there can be benefits to simplifying your approach, to reducing your choices, to stripping away the things that might be nice but maybe you don't really need.
And just look at it. Is it not a thing of beauty?
