Well, after reading more about the psychology of free-to-play games, I’ve finally given up Sim City BuildIt once and for all (… but probably not for long). (For the record, SCB wasn’t by any means the worst offender in the free-to-play world, but it’s an enormous time-suck nonetheless). However, after being subjected to maybe a hundred online ads (sitting through online ads is a shortcut to certain goals in the game), there’s one image that still stuck in my mind:
This is a scene from the ad for a game called “Age of Z” (or, at least I think that’s the one). From what I’ve seen in the ads, I can tell you that this game involves killing many zombies and building your home territory (which, I believe starts as a reclaimed junkyard) into a thriving city.
This image, which appears near the end of the ad and seems to show a pretty well-established city bordered by a tall wall topped with machine gunners who fire non-stop into approaching waves of zombies, always (at least for the few seconds the scene appears) killing enough to keep the leading edge of the wave at bay.
(Aside: it’s curious that the wave of zombies is squared off the way the city is. You’d think that the shape of the zombie wave would be dictated by the firing arc of the machine guns, in which case it would have the shape of a square with rounded corners. But I digress…)
Welcome to America, circa 2020
Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but this scene strikes me as a metaphor for the way many Americans view their world? Inside the walls, it’s a pretty nice place. Let me call your attention to a few details:
The buildings inside the compound have strikingly appealing architecture. They have landscaping, paved roads, sidewalks. This particular building seems to have advertising and a neon sign. At the moment, no one seems to be on the streets because they are all on the wall shooting zombies, but presumably at some point at least some of them can climb down and enjoy maybe a movie or an art show or something.
Outside, though, there are waves and waves of zombies, coming to… well, I don’t really know. Eat everyone’s brains? I’m not really a zombie expert, but I think it’s safe to say that the zombies pose a threat to the resident‘s lives, or at least their way of life. They are storming the walls, and it certainly seemed to imply that if they were ever to make it through, well, that would be the end of civilization.
Frankly, that’s how I think a lot of people see America today. Remember that couple in St. Louis who pulled guns (including a machine gun, if you can believe it*) on Black Lives Matter protesters who walked down their private road en route to a demonstration? What a scene! Rich people standing in their beautifully manicured lawns, staring down the barrels of their guns at outsiders who had literally come through the gates. I can’t help but wonder if, after the protesters dispersed and the guns were back in the locker, those two defenders of liberty and freedom went back to playing their game of Age of Z.
From another game in the series. The homeowners are enjoying a cookout in their front yard while the automated defense system slaughters the zombies beyond the fence.
OK, I think I’ll stop now. I’m not really trying to get political with this blog, but I do wonder if I’m the only one who looks at this game and sees the “defending our way of life” fantasy fairly obviously embedded in it. If many video games are a form of wish-fulfillment, what does it say when our wish is to live in a nice place we can call our own and open fire on anyone who tries to get in? Castle Doctrine as escapist entertainment.
In any case, it’s not a game for me. I’d rather be flinging birds at green pigs and their absurdly poorly built homes. Though I have to confess that I do wonder at what point the birds and pigs really should just sit down and talk. Where does it end?
* And of course you can believe it, which is pretty awful in and of itself.
There is a game called Homescapes whose ads subject you to an endless loop of an animated hand attempting —and failing— over and over, to solve a simple logic problem.
There are tons of games like this out there, each of which asks you to manipulate a series of gates so that your nemo-fish escapes a shark, your adventurer gets the gold, your sheep escape the terminator-like advance of a combine harvester, or whatever. It doesn’t really matter. There are gates, there’s something you want and something you don’t want, and your job is to manipulate the gates to avoid disaster.
Another thing that these games all have in common is an animated demonstration of how to manipulate the controls. And they invariably show you how to do it wrong. The wrong switch gets tripped and the lava falls on the fish, or the toxic sludge drenches the homeowner or whatever. It is, frankly, infuriating to watch. Over and over again, the disembodied hand moves the lever that obviously spells doom for the sheep/fish/damsel, and you find yourself thinking, “Move! Let me do it.” It’s almost if it’s by design.
I haven’t actually played any of these games, mostly because it would feel like giving in. So, I say “sorry, little fish, good luck with that lava.” I just can’t afford to get involved with what is clearly someone else’s problem.
I do have questions…
Speaking of other people’s problems, the winner in that category has to be the poor guy who lives in the game “Homescapes”. That’s him in the picture above. The disembodied hand is clearly tasked with getting the fresh (blue) water into the sink and avoiding the disgusting, toxic water. What I want to know is, how did this house get a certificate of occupancy in the first place? How can it be to code to have the fresh water and the toxic water flowing through the same pipes? Clearly, even if the disembodied hand can figure out how to drain the toxic water from the system (it can’t, by the way) the fresh water has to run through the same pipes. I certainly wouldn’t be washing up with that water after knowing where it’s been!
And how did that toxic water get there in the first place? Was there an architect who sat down at his blueprints and said, “we’ll keep the toxic water up here, and attach it to the sink and the fresh water. That’ll save us some copper!”
The whole setup reminds me of the Schitt’s Creek episode “The Drip”, in which Johnny Rose is awakened by having “brown sewage water” dripping from the ceiling into his bed. What struck me as odd is that the Rosebud Motel is only one story. If the water was indeed sewage water (which seems to be implied, though it’s only Johnny’s conjecture), why would it be above them? That would mean that somewhere in the Rosebud there’s a pump that sends sewage up, not common except in basements and other subterranean areas. (Anyway, the show gets a pass because it’s hysterically funny, but some people notice things like that.)
Only 5% Can Solve This
As if watching someone fail over and over to solve a very simple logic problem isn’t enough, the ads want to make sure that you’re well and truly on the hook. So it ends with this phrase: “Only 5% can solve this”. Now the gauntlet has really been thrown down. Now I’m thinking, “Really? Only 5% (of people, I’m guessing) know not to drop the gas can on top of the kitchen fire? I must be some kind of genius, because that occurred to me right away!” Somewhere out there, no question about it, there’s someone who downloads this game just to prove to the world (as if the world is watching and this isn’t just the spotlight effect) that they’re in that elite 5% of thinkers. Me, I’m too smart for that. Besides, I’m too busy playing Sim City BuildIt.
Sim City BuildIt: The Tar Baby for Completionists
You may wonder where I’m seeing all these ads for mobile games. Why, I see them when I’m playing a mobile game, of course! The one that I have sadly fallen victim to is Sim City BuildIt which is, as far as I can tell, the modern incarnation of the much-loved Sim City.
It’s sort of “Sim City Lite”, though. There is much less strategy as far as I can tell. Because you can move things around easily and you get refunds on things that you’ve built but now want to bulldoze, you don’t really need to think ahead. Also, there seem to be many fewer options you have to influence the outcome of your city. Basically, you build stuff, and the stuff you build generates money so that you can buy the stuff you can’t build. It’s actually really basic, but it’s a total trap for completionists like myself.
See, I’m almost ready to send the cargo ship at my port off to some far off land. I just need to load one more shipment of cabinets onto it. Of course, to make a cabinet, I need lumber, so I have to load up my furniture factory with lumber. Where does the lumber come from? From wood, of course. I need to make sure that the building supply store has enough wood (which, in turn, comes from a factory). Each of these stops has a finite number of items that can be put in the queues, and production times that range from minutes to hours. It’s an endless list of cascading dependencies, and the more you accomplish, the more complex the items you need to make become (oh, the days in the beginning when you could just dump a bunch of raw metal onto a building site and get a house!). You can, of course, pay real actual money to speed up the process (and it’s that feature that makes the game “free to play” because it subsidizes all of the development costs), but that feels like cheating. No, I’d rather pay in time, lost minutes and hours waiting for that hunk of cheese to be finished at the farmer’s market so I can get it over to the fast food place to make cheese fries. Seriously, though, it’s enough that I’m giving over so much time to a game, but I still can avoid becoming a whale for free-to-play apps.
Easy to quit, I’ve done it many times!
This morning I deleted the Sim City app from my iPad. Of course, I’ve done that a few times before so it’s hard to know if this is really it or not. At this point, though, I’ve spent enough time in the game that it has gotten almost insufferably repetitive, and each time I quit I feel a bit less pull to go back. Of course, the city itself (”Buddyton”, if you were curious) lives in the cloud, so all I have to do is download the game again and run through the tutorial before I’m back to tending to my residents complaining that I really need to build that solar farm because the coal plant is killing them.
So, for now, I’m done with that stupid game. Will I ever go back? I might, but if I do I probably won’t say, because all that would do is confirm that I actually am as easy to manipulate as they think I am.
(Incidentally, I’m not including links to any of the games I mention here. You just don’t need them. You’re welcome.)
(PS: Apologies to anyone who are offended by the use of the phrase “tar baby”, which in recent years has been regarded by some as a derogatory reference to Africans (or Maori, Wikipedia tells me). Hopefully from context you can see that mine is not a racial commentary of any kind. Frankly, I was hesitant to even use this idiom, but I don’t know another that captures the meaning, and writing “a problem that is exacerbated by attempts to struggle with it, or by extension to a situation in which mere contact can lead to becoming inextricably involved” is a little wordy.)
Which is harder, a 100-mile century ride on the road or a 100-mile century ride in Zwift? Is zwift harder than riding outside? Riding 100 miles isn’t particularly easy even under the best circumstances, and involve many hours of cycling, but there’s definitely a difference between Zwift and riding outside. Having done both, I thought a quick comparison might be of interest to someone who has done one and is contemplating the other. This isn’t a scientific comparison, and I don’t claim that I’m an authority on Century rides, but I think maybe I can provide some insights…
The Road Century
For me, at my level of fitness and in the moderately hilly area I live in, a road century is about a seven-hour affair, when rest stops are factored in. I wrote about my first and second centuries in this blog, and I found the experience to be fairly similar in both. I was better prepared for the first one, but the second was easier, and in the end they both felt like they took more or less the same effort. Anyway, please check out those blog entries if you haven’t done a road Century and want to hear a little more about that experience.
The Zwift Century
The Zwift platform (along with technologies such as the Wahoo Kickr and Climb) does a lot to bridge the gap between riding on, say, rollers and riding outdoors. It’s certainly not the same experience, though, and after having done a metric century on Zwift, I was curious to see what the full Century experience would be like.
Well, when I said I was curious, I mean I was curious in the sense of “I wonder what that would be like?”, not in the sense that I really planned to find out. Still, as a completionist, that black Zwift jersey —exclusive to those who’ve done a 100 mile ride— did beckon to me. Then again, I knew that even if it was easier it was still going to be several hours on the trainer, and that part wasn’t terribly enticing.
Finally, fate intervened, and the indoor Century plan was back on. The Main Line Animal Rescue bike event went “virtual” this year (2020), and they moved it up to June to boot. Although this is the event for which I do all of my fundraising, I have to admit that this year I nearly sat it out. I was getting tired of all of the usual outdoor events being canceled or converting to “virtual” events (“virtual” basically means “do whatever you want to do”), and with the local bike club canceling their group rides I was really having trouble finding any motivation.
There was about a week to go before the event when I realized that if I did take a pass this time, I would certainly regret it when October rolled around and there wasn’t a big bike event fundraiser for me to get involved in. After all, the dogs and cats still needed care, and with so many people out of work and/or afraid to leave their homes, it hasn’t been a great year for fundraising in general. So although I usually spend a couple of months fundraising, this time I had a week and I had to figure out what to do as my virtual event.
My first thought was to do a Century ride in Zwift, mostly because it seemed like a kooky idea that would appeal to donors and also felt like the sort of thing that wasn’t really as hard as it sounds. And I hadn’t really trained for this, so I was definitely looking for something that wasn’t as hard as it sounds!
Back to Fuego Flats
At the risk of suffering an even greater level of boredom than I experienced in my metric century, I decided that my 100-miler would be done on a route called “Tempus Fugit” in the Fuego Flats area of Watopia, Zwift’s main bicycling paradise. Fuego Flats is, like it sounds, just about completely flat, with grades ranging from -1% to 2%. There are no stop signs, no stop lights, no traffic (except other bicycles and runners that you cannot collide with) and no weather except the weather in my basement. This should be just about optimal for a long ride.
Unlike the metric Century Zwift ride, I opted not for the TT bike but for my regular (Zwift) bike, the Trek Madone with the Zipp 808 wheels. My thinking was that on a Sunday morning (particularly with most of the world still in pandemic lockdown and riding indoors) there would be a lot of other cyclists on the route and it wouldn’t be so hard to find another person or two to draft off of. Also, since the TT bike does not benefit from the draft and you cannot crash into other bikes, when you’re riding the TT bike the others on the road are completely irrelevant, and that was just a little more boring than I was ready to deal with. I am not entirely sure whether riding a TT bike or a bike like the Madone in the draft is faster, but did try a little experiment in the week leading up to this ride and I believe the regular bike in the draft is faster.
As it turns out, on the day of the event I got even more help than anticipated. My brother joined me on the ride and rode the first segment (the first forty miles) as my domestique, so I always had someone to draft off of. That was, predictably, my fastest segment, averaging somewhere between 23-24 mph. Nowhere in the real world have I ever gone that fast for that long. I’ve never had the opportunity to cycle in a Fuego Flats type of environment with people to draft off the whole way, so I have no way of knowing whether I’d be able to pull off speeds like that in the real world, but suffice to say this seemed like pretty much ideal circumstances.
Speed and output for the Tour of My Basement
I took a ten minute break at the 40 mile mark, where I lost my domestique (strangely, he had other things to do that day than sit in his own basement and spin, but I thank him greatly for the help). I re-started much the same as I had left off, but to stave off boredom I started watching one of the ESPN 30 for 30’s (the Lance Armstrong one, naturally. Spoiler alert: this guy has no self-awareness). Since I couldn’t watch TV and try to find people to draft off I switched then to the TT bike for the remainder of the ride. Slower than the Madone had been, but probably faster in clean air. You can see from the chart that my speed drops off noticeably after the 40 mile mark, but I can’t really say how much of that is aero and how much of that is just good old fatigue.
The Mile 70 Wall
I have noticed that on each of the Century rides I’ve done there’s a psychological barrier at the 70 mile mark. Miles 70-80 are the worst, and although I am not entirely sure why that is I suppose it is because at that point I’ve been riding long enough to be feeling sore, but I’m not close enough to the end to start focusing on my post-ride meal(s).
Just like the outdoor centuries, the mile 70 wall was still a thing. I didn’t really contemplate quitting as I have done before, but it is definitely the psychological low point of the ride. I had decided on breaks at 40, 70, and 90 miles (and I was happy later with those choices) to give myself a little break before the stretch at 70 miles, and I’m happy I did. I grabbed myself a bread roll and started rationing my Bloks. I had one GU left over for this ride, but it was one of the chocolate outrage ones, and those things are like candy and best saved for the end of a ride.
The break at mile 90 was similar to the last rest stops on my outdoor Centuries, just long enough to reset. At that point in a ride, it’s pretty hard to get re-started, so you don’t want the break to be too long. Plus, at that point you’re only 10 miles from the end, and I was definitely ready to be done.
As the graph shows, I was gradually slowing down. This ride is a little over 9 laps of Tempus Fugit, I think, and Zwift gives you a time for the lap (1/2 lap, actually) so I was quite aware during the ride that my last few laps were each about 2-3% slower than the one before. I was slowly running out of gas. Additionally, although the grade on the route only varies between -1% and 2%, at this point in the ride I didn’t even have to see the screen to know what the gradient was. When I hit the 2% section I thought to myself “oh, no, the hill again!”
But then, with fairly little fanfare (just the banner announcing that I’d gotten the badge for the hundred mile ride, which Zwift calls the “No Big Deal” badge), it was over.
So, now the question you’ve been waiting to be answered…
Is riding a Century in Zwift harder or easier than riding a Century outside on the road?
Based on my limited experience, I’d have to say it was easier. Definitely easier, and for one major reason: because there are no stop signs, stop lights, blind corners, traffic, or any other reason why you’d need to stop, your average speed in Zwift will be way faster than anything you could achieve on normal roads. In fact, my time for the “Tour de Mon Sous-Sol” as I call it was more than an hour faster than my fastest outdoor Century. After five plus hours on the bike doing this, I was very happy to not have to ride for another hour or more. Plus, my ride was climate controlled and I had complete discretion over the rest stops, etc. (and my wife came down every now and then to take photos for our social media posts — this was a fundraiser, after all!)
All of that said, if I were properly trained up I think I would pick the outdoor Century every time. The indoor ride was boring, and I don’t think it would have been significantly less boring if I hadn’t chosen to do 8 or 9 laps of Tempus Fugit. Outdoors there is scenery, navigational challenges to exercise your mind, comraderie, all the things that make cycling fun. Plus, this indoor century was almost completely in the saddle, and it is considerably less comfortable than the variability you get when riding outside. (I’ve spoken in earlier posts about the way the bike is clamped to the trainer and the unnatural feeling that results.) I’m very happy to be a Zwifter, but it’s still second best to riding outdoors.
Final Thoughts after the Zwift Century
In the end, I raised $1060 for Main Line Animal Rescue, which I was super-excited about. I even had donors who found the fundraiser through this blog! It’s a great feeling to be able to help out the dogs and cats of MLAR, so on that account alone it was definitely worth it.
Plus, I now have the coveted black Zwift jersey. My avatar is never going to take it off.
This morning I decided that the time had come to snag that cool gray jersey that Zwift awards you when you do a 100km ride. Here’s how I went about it.
Before I start, let me be clear that this post is not about preparing for a metric century in Zwift … you can prepare for it just the same way you’d prepare for an on-the-road MC. I’ll talk a bit about the difference between the “real” metric century and the Zwift version, but as far as preparation I think there are a lot of resources out there to get you prepared (including Zwift’s own Fondo training courses). This post is about the decisions I made about how to approach it in-game, and the experience of actually doing it.
I’m a 100 mile/week rider (if you count the Peloton in there) and have done a few centuries, both the metric and full 100-milers. I’d started a couple of Zwift rides in the past intending to go 100km, but for one reason or another I never actually went the distance. With the local weather somehow locked into a cold, rainy pattern for the past few weeks and not a whole lot to do at home during the lockdown, I decided that today would be the day.
The easy way or the fun way?
I had considered two strategies for tackling the MC in Zwift. One was to pick a longish course such as the Uber Pretzel and just ride it. That was how I had started my last 100k attempt, but after I saw how long it took me to do the first 30k or so I bailed out, figuring it’d take most of the day to do the rest. I am not entirely sure how long it would take me to do that ride… there’s a fair bit of climbing, but in the real world if you begin and end a ride in the same place the ascents and descents are literally equal so the extra effort going up is rewarded by rest coming down. I’m not sure that the same can be said for Zwift. I never really seem to coast through sections like Titan’s grove the way I can through similarly hilly areas near my home. I feel like Zwift cheats me on the downhills… not a big deal since I’m on the thing to train, but still I don’t think the ascents and descents cancel each other out on Zwift nearly as much as they do in real life.
The other approach to doing 100k, the one I chose, was to set things up for myself so that I could complete the 100k as quickly as possible. So the course I chose was Tempus Fugit, the flattest, fastest route in Watopia, and a favorite of people who just want to maximize their MPH (or KPH, as the case may be). 100k on Tempus Fugit has only about 500 feet of climb.
After selecting the course I had to decide on the bike, and I had a conundrum. Should I pick a TT bike for its aero, or should I pick a fast road bike and rely on the draft? You may be aware that in Zwift, you get no aero advantage from drafting behind other riders (they may draft you but you can’t draft them). So if you go TT you’re on your own. With other bikes, you can take advantage of a healthy aero boost when drafting behind a rider (and even more if the group is four or more riders), but that means that others dictate your pace to some extent. Today, being quarantine day #1zillion, there were so many riders on Fuego Flats it was, as they say, a conga line. Finding drafting partners would not be a problem.
After some thought and fruitless googling, I decided to go the TT route, just to simplify things. I selected the Cervélo P5 for the ride. Why that bike? It happened to be in my garage. It was probably the best bike I could afford the last time I did a TT ride and considering how few TT rides I do I wasn’t going to buy another just for this. So the P5 it is.
Getting ready
Although I generally don’t like to eat before a bike ride, most of my Zwift rides are an hour or less so it hardly matters. For what was fixing to be a 3+ hour ride, I was going to need some fuel, so I made myself a breakfast of oatmeal and an orange, and was ready to go. (NB: I am very far from being a sports nutritionist, but this worked for me).
Riding Fuego Flats on a TT bike is just about as dull as Zwift can get. Fuego Flats is, as the name would suggest, pool-table flat, with gradients between -1° and 2°. It’s so monotonous that I could actually feel the one degree changes in gradient, which normally are imperceptible. Add to that that the TT bike cannot draft behind others, and you pretty much can completely ignore the other riders. After all, you can’t crash into them, and you can’t draft off them, so it really doesn’t matter where they are. Riding alone or in a pack of a hundred riders, it’s exactly the same experience. Pick a gear, grind out the miles, and that’s about it. I chose a 33-34 kph pace so I could finish in three hours and settled in.
I took a break around the 50k mark. Just like in real life, I’m looking for a bio-break after about hour #1. I decided to hold out until I was past mid-way, because I wanted to have more behind me than ahead of me when I got back on the bike. I grabbed a bread roll (it was the only thing I could see in there that I could eat while on the bike) and got started again before I got too comfortable not pedaling.
Around the 80k mark, I opened up a pack of Gu. I’m not really into snacking on my ride, but it may just be that I don’t know what I’m doing. I did notice that my time on “Fuego Flats Reverse” seemed to drop about 2-3% each time through, so I was definitely running out of gas. Would the right snacks help? I really don’t know. I do like Gu, though, it’s like candy. My favorite flavor is Chocolate Outrage, but if you’re actually in the middle of a big ride it’s a little hard to get down, so I generally go for the salted caramel. (In case you’re wondering, I am not compensated by Gu for this mention, though at about $1 per gel, I certainly wouldn’t mind them throwing some free product my way)
The 100k mark came and went without a whole lot of fanfare. There was the usual blue banner saying that I’d gotten the badge, followed by the orange banner saying that I unlocked the Metric Century jersey (the whole reason I was doing this, to tell the truth). I was getting close to finishing the timed Fuego Flats Reverse, so I went ahead and finished that. Then I was close to getting 105 km, so I did that, too. (If it weren’t for completionism, I’d probably have half as many Zwift miles as I do!)
Final thoughts
So, after all that, how does a Zwift metric century compare to the real thing? I suppose in terms of effort, it was about the same. I live in a fairly hilly area, so the metric centuries I have done have usually had 3-4000 feet of climb to them, which both requires extra effort at times but also provides some relief. I’ve never just sat and cranked out three hours at a constant pace, and it’s hard to compare.
I think I found it a little less comfortable doing a distance ride on the trainer because the trainer has the bike more or less locked in place. On the road, the bike can sway just a little from side to side as you pedal. That’s particularly noticeable on hills but you still feel it on the flats as well. The trainer doesn’t give you the same jinba ittai that you get on the road, which is a shame. I am not sure I ever plan to do a full 100 mile century ride indoors for just that reason. Then again, if it doesn’t warm up soon around here I will probably be looking for new things to try.
One other thought: if you’re doing an organized event, then the rest stops are set at intervals of the organizer’s choosing, but of course on Zwift you’re making that decision for yourself (assuming you’re not in a group ride), and that may change things a little bit.
In summary, I think I can safely say that if you have completed a metric century in either Zwift or the real world, you probably wouldn’t have trouble doing one in the other. Jumping on your TT bike and heading for Fuego Flats is probably the fastest way to get in your 100k, but exciting it is not.
For your indoor-riding money, which is better: Peloton or Zwift? I have both, and although Peloton riders and Zwift riders each have more or less the same goal of getting a good cycling workout, they almost could not be more different. After about 1,000 Peloton rides (just about every day for a couple of years), I switched entirely over to Zwift a few months ago, but am now splitting my time between the two. I’ll explain why…
The author, riding the Peloton bike with a broken arm and multiple broken ribs. The Peloton bike is heavy and stable, more so than my Zwift setup, and it’s pretty hard to crash when you’re riding indoors!
The Peloton Experience
For this comparison, I am going to by relying on my own history with both the Peloton bike and the Zwift experience, and talk about the pros and cons of each. You’ll see that sometimes the comparisons are apples-to-oranges (after all, one is hardware with streaming content and the other is an app to which you bring your own interface) but I think it is possible to make some valid comparison since at the end of the day it’s all variations on indoor cycling / spinning.
My Introduction to the Peloton Bike
I bought my Peloton bike a couple of years ago after hearing my brother go on and on about how the Peloton had improved his fitness. It was hard to miss that he’d lost 70 pounds in the year he’d owned it, and that summer when members of our extended family climbed Mt. Mansfield he certainly did seem to be up to the task (we rewarded him by making him carry the backpack). Even so, my friends who know me as a cheerleader for the bike that goes nowhere might be surprised to learn that I left my first visit to the showroom unimpressed.
In August of 2017, my wife and I went to our local Peloton showroom (yeah, we live in a place like that) where we got to sample the bike. The salesperson showed me that you watch the class on the screen and turn the resistance knob when the instructor tells you.
“If the bike knows the resistance should go up, why do I have to turn the knob?” I asked. This was a dumb bike. Nicely made, and super smooth action (thanks to a drive belt instead of a chain), but just plain dumb.
Eager to please, she showed me a feature called “just ride” that featured beautiful movies of rides on trails and roads that I could just follow, bringing my own soundtrack if I wanted to. “So, if the road goes uphill in the movie, does the ride get harder?” I asked. “No,” she replied. The fact is, the experience on the bike has nothing to do with what you see on the screen. Again, dumb.
My wife and I left without buying a bike. I am not sure exactly how she felt about it at the time, but I was disappointed. I wanted a bike I could ride in the winter, and this didn’t seem to be it. I had never taken a spin class and wasn’t all that enthusiastic to, either. And, for all the hype, the Peloton experience is just a spin class beamed to you over the Internet. I mean, let’s keep some perspective.
The Peloton is not a biking simulator
Over the next few days, I actually found myself starting to reconsider my first impression. I had been disappointed in the Peloton bike because wasn’t the indoor bike simulator I wanted, but then again, it wasn’t trying to be. I realized on reflection that a big factor in my disappointment was my expectations and not anything to do with the bike itself. The following weekend, my wife and I went back to take a sample class on the bike.
This time, I started to think of the Peloton as a training tool, a piece of equipment that could make me a better cyclist not though a true simulation, but by focusing on very specific elements of the experience, namely building up my cardiovascular endurance and my leg muscles. The Peloton bike is a direct-drive setup (like a fixie) and there is no coasting on the Peloton — something that took some getting used to… I felt like George Jetson on the treadmill sometimes! With no coasting, there really isn’t any “downhill” on the Peloton, either. You can lighten up the resistance to next to nothing, but you are still spinning even when your are in so-called “active recovery,” which is the closest thing to rest that you’re ever going to get as long as class is in session.
This is what happens when you coast on your Peloton bike.
Given how happy I am with my Peloton bike today it’s funny to think that purchasing it was such a close call. Even after the second visit, I was still on the fence. After all, start-up cost for the bike was north of $2,500, and I’d pretty much agonize over that sort of spend if I didn’t end up using it. My wife seemed interested, though, and in the end each of us rationalized the purchase by telling ourselves that we were doing it for the other.
Does the Peloton really work?
Yes. Yes it does. You have to actually ride it, though. Get yourself on a schedule where you’re doing, say, three or four 45 minute rides a week and I can’t imagine how you won’t see a difference. And cycling is one of the lowest-impact exercises there is, so if you’ve got the motivation you can do it every day.
On the topic of the Peloton’s effectiveness, I’d say that for building cardiovascular fitness it’s probably even better than actual cycling out on the road. On the Peloton, there really is no downhill-as I mentioned before there is no coasting. You also don’t ever need to stop for traffic lights or stop signs or anything like that. It is one continuous workout. In fact, the only way I’d say the Peloton bike was easier than the road bike is that on the Peloton you choose your own resistance and can increase or decrease it at any time, whereas on the road bike the hills are what they are, and although you get to select your gearing you still have to get up the hills on your route.
So, if you love your Peloton, why did you pony up for a Zwift setup?
After about two years riding (generally daily) on the Peloton, I was starting to wonder if there might be more in life. We had a couple of great years, and at the end of it I was in excellent shape, maybe twenty pounds lighter, and able to keep up with riders half my age (and drop them on the hills — priceless!). The Peloton is a low-impact exercise and it’s something you can do every day, and I really couldn’t ask for more. Still, I had started seeing the Zwift demo bikes set up in the bike shop and was being bombarded constantly on YouTube by Zwift ads, and I started to think, “it really would be fun to actually do a bike riding / racing simulator.”
I didn’t take the plunge right away. After all, although I owned a road bike I didn’t have the other equipment needed to get started. For the uninitiated, it’s important to know that Zwift is an internet service / app(s), and not a hardware/software/service combination the way Peloton is. The hardware component of Zwift is BYO, and the cost can be significant, particularly if you don’t have a bike. (On the other hand, if you do have a bike some Zwift setups can be relatively inexpensive.)
Since I didn’t already have an indoor trainer, I used Zwift’s website for guidance and settled on a Wahoo Kickr / Wahoo Climb combo. I already had an Apple TV and (as I mentioned) a bike, so I wouldn’t have to purchase anything else, but the Wahoo gear ran north of $1500 all by itself. Zwift is a subscription service with a monthly fee, too, so if depending on what equipment you have already the Zwift experience cost can rival that of the Peloton (though over time the much higher Peloton subscription cost will make a big difference). Setting up Zwift wasn’t too difficult, but unfortunately that is only half the battle in this case, because the trainer itself needs to be set up. Getting my bike connected to the Wahoo (I bought the wheel-off model) and dialed in took a fair amount of time, so advantage Peloton in the “getting started” matchup.
Closer, but still not a perfect simulator
Heading to the top of Mt. Zwift on a climb known as the “Epic KOM”. A mountain goat greets you at the finish line.
Although I enjoy the Zwift very much, it is sadly not a perfect bicycling simulator, either. Now, I’m aware that most of the shortcomings I’m about to detail have to do with the (Wahoo) hardware and not the Zwift program, exactly. But you can’t Zwift without hardware, and I’m using what seems to be their preferred setup, so at the end of the day I don’t think it’s really off the mark to call these things issues with Zwift.
The first shortcoming that becomes obvious is that there is no braking in Zwift. I think there’s a keyboard key for slowing down, but practically speaking there’s no braking. That’s not nearly as big a problem in the virtual world as it would be in the real one, because Zwift has no collision detection so there is no chance of colliding with your fellow riders or obstacles, and there is no chance of you not being able to make a corner due to excessive speed. Still, drafting is a thing in Zwift (and some opine that it’s an even greater force there than IRL) and it can be tricky to tuck in behind another rider when you can’t actually tap the brakes. Complicating things is the subtle latency between the trainer and the app, and positioning yourself for drafting becomes an art form.
Along the same lines there is no steering in Zwift. You can make route-level decisions such as turning left to go to the volcano or turning right to climb a mountain, but that’s as far as that goes. As I mentioned, there are no collisions in Zwift, so you don’t have to worry about steering all that much (in fact, sitting in the middle of a pack of fifty riders is no big deal in Zwift!) but as Zwift is trying to expand into dirt and gravel simulations, the lack of steering is a barrier to having any sort of technical riding. For road riding, I don’t find it a big deal.
Another shortcoming, and the one I still notice on a daily basis, is that the feel of the bike isn’t the same, particularly when pedaling hard. Because my bike is locked into the trainer, it has none of the natural rocking from side to side that is part of pedaling. This isn’t so noticeable at pace speed, but when sprinting or climbing it feels very restrictive.
Speaking of climbing, that, too, is somewhat unnatural. While I appreciate the Climb’s ability to raise the front fork of my bike to change the geometry for climbing, if I get out of the saddle to make it up a particularly steep grade the whole assembly gets to be a bit unbalanced, and sometimes the rear end lifts a little. It’s not terrible, but it’s not “normal”, either, and inhibits all-out efforts at climbing.
As I said before, these things could easily be called shortcomings of the trainer rather than of Zwift, but since they’re part of the Zwift experience I think it’s fair to include them. Wahoo has recently released their own Wahoo bike (which, at over $3000, is more expensive than my road bike!) and Saris (among other companies) have introduced wooden “bike surfboards” to allow for more natural motion, so it’s clear that the issues are known and people are hard at work trying to find solutions. Indeed, it seems to be a badly kept secret that Zwift is working on it’s own trainers, if for no other reason than to standardize a feature set. As of this writing, though, there is still work to do.
So, with those gripes out the way I have to say that I do love riding on Zwift. It doesn’t take the place of riding outdoors, but it’s a fun diversion. Zwift races are fun, and Zwift group rides (which everyone just understands are races, too) are great. I even did a “meetup” with about a half-dozen of friends from the cycling club and we ran one of the courses together (using discord to chat). It’s a great way to spend a couple of hours, and I am very much looking forward to seeing the platform grow over time.
Even though I’m really enjoying Zwifting, that doesn’t mean I’ve turned my back on the Peloton. In fact, in recent weeks I’ve been spending even more time on the Peloton than on the Zwift. I’ll explain below…
Why Zwift is better than Peloton
Zwift is more fun. I think I can say that without reservation. On Zwift you climb mountains (including a faithful reproduction of the Alpe D’Huez, which is close to an hour and half of unremitting uphill), ride underwater (through a see-thru tunnel, though I suppose in the game even that isn’t needed), past dinosaurs and volcanos. There is visual interest in the landscape, and it doesn’t get boring any more than your local outdoor rides do.
The summit of the Alpe du Zwift. There is nothing on the Peloton as satisfying as reaching the top of a Zwift mountain.
I also think that I work a bit harder in Zwift. On the Peloton, I may be asked to pedal for thirty more seconds at a high resistance, but on the Zwift I know I’m pedaling hard because I’m near the top of a hill — I can even see the mountain goats hanging out at the summit. On the Peloton, I may be chasing the person above me on the leaderboard, but it’s really just by following a number (the number of kilojoules they’ve output as compared with me) which is dry to say the least. In fact, Peloton very deliberately de-emphasizes competition while in Zwift even the group rides are races. And when you’re chasing someone in Zwift you literally see them up the road, and you can viscerally feel the gap closing or widening. Dropping a friend in Zwift is every bit as satisfying as dropping them in the real world.
So, if Zwift is more fun and I get a better workout, why ever go back to the Peloton? Well, Peloton does have its own strengths.
Why Peloton is better than Zwift
I find the consistency of the Peloton workouts to be an advantage. Although there are different types of rides (tabata, hills, intervals, etc), one forty-five minute class seems to me to be much like another, so I can compare outputs and distances across rides much more evenly. By contrast, on the Zwift, I might be trying to compare a thirty-minute climb of Mt. Zwift this week to an hour on the desert flats last week and really have no idea how they match up. On the Peloton bike, I find that the consistency of the challenge makes it easier for me to gauge my efforts and to track my progress.
I also find the Peloton experience a bit more civilized than the Zwift experience. Of course, my choice of bike and Wahoo trainer is not Zwift’s doing, but since I’m using the preferred setup I think a comparison can be made. The Peloton bike is heavy and sturdy, easily adjustable for things like seat height and handlebar height, and nearly silent in operation due to its belt-driven mechanism. By contrast, my Zwift setup seems exceedingly cramped and noisy. It’s my own bike that I selected and set up, so you’d think that’d be perfect for me, but because it is clamped into the Wahoo trainer it feels unnaturally rigid. The chain and derailleurs are considerably more noisy than the Peloton’s belt, and that noise is amplified by the indoor setting — I never thought of the bike as noisy when it was outdoors.
Another big advantage that the Peloton has over the Zwift is that there is less involved at the start of each workout. Even if I have to adjust the bike after my wife’s used it (sharing a bike is not really even an option in the Zwift world unless both riders are exactly the same size) I can jump on the bike and be ready to start a workout within a minute or so. With Zwift I need to turn on the TV, turn on the Apple TV, choose the Zwift app, launch the Zwift companion on my phone (because of the limited Bluetooth connections on the Apple TV), start my Kickr and Climb, pair the bike to the companion app, and choose a ride using the horrible Apple TV remote (which is a lot like dialing your phone from five feet away using a pool cue). It takes several minutes. And, because every Zwift “event” is a race, I’d better be good and warmed up well before the official start! What it all comes down to is that when I have limited time it is far easier for me to grab my chest strap and my shoes and jump on the Peloton. Sometimes, there is something to be said for freedom from choice.
So, Peloton or Zwift?
Not many people are going to want to invest in both Peloton and Zwift. After all, you are getting the same sort of exercise with each, and you obviously can’t ride both at the same time. I’m going to answer this question with an “it depends”, which feels like a bit of a cop-out, but I’ll try to explain myself.
The Pelotoner wants to work out. It’s a pure workout machine. It may not be as much fun as the Zwift, but there is an enthusiastic instructor and (hopefully) good music, and as long as you challenge yourself you can get the best bang for your buck for the time you have to spend riding.
The Zwifter is the cyclist, who is driven indoors either by weather or expediency. The workouts are quite varied, and some can be much more challenging than a typical Peloton class (and Zwift does have a “workout” mode with intervals pegged to different power zones), but it’s a little more difficult to do a Zwift workout if you have a hard stop at the other end (most Zwift rides are distance-bound, rather than time-bound).
So, if I had to choose, which one would be my pick? Because I ride outdoors during the season (and whenever I can), I think I’d pick the Peloton. It helps me maintain my fitness, and because the classes are all time-bound I can more easily fit the workout into my schedule. If, for some reason, I somehow found myself unable ride in the real world (which is what got me into all this in the first place), I’d pick the Zwift as the platform that can hold my interest better.
Final Thoughts
After I finished this blog post, I realized that there was one angle I really hadn’t discussed, and that is, which of these two platforms can best simulate the other? The answer, I think, is clearly Zwift. There is a training mode in Zwift which lays outs an exercise plan based on power zones, just like the Peloton Power Zone rides. There is an FTP test and then the zones are used for the training courses. In fact, the Zwift training courses have a cool feature where, if you are doing a multiple-workout course, after finishing one the next might not be available for a day or two, forcing you to rest (or at least encouraging it). There is also a limit to how long you can wait to do the next workout, so not only do you have to rest but you can’t rest too long and still complete the course as it’s prescribed.
By contrast, the Peloton doesn’t have anything that really simulates an actual bike ride, and because it’s up to you to set the resistance, it never will. It’s just not baked into the DNA. I am still a big Peloton fan, but the fact is it rather unapologetically does just one thing. If that one thing is the one thing you want, then there’s your answer to whether Peloton or Zwift is the right pick.
I wasn’t completely sure I was going to be finishing the French Creek Iron Tour until I passed mile 80. Around mile 70 the course heads out of the wooded hills into farmland where the sun and the wind start to make you think, “how much do I really want this?” I really do enjoy cycling, and I enjoy the long rides… there is a peacefulness that you discover after a couple of hours of riding that just can’t be found on shorter rides. That said, there comes a point after five or so hours where it ceases to be fun, and I was there.
So when I did finally reach the finish line, about seven and a half hours after starting, I was pretty sure this was going to be both my first and last 100 mile bike ride. As much as I enjoy a nice, long ride, there really isn’t anything (except maybe for sleeping) that I really want to do for seven and a half hours straight. Riding a century is like climbing a mountain: you don’t particularly enjoy doing it, but you enjoy the satisfaction of having done it. As such, it doesn’t seem like there’s a whole lot of incentive, once you’ve done a century, to want to do another one. (I’ve climbed a few mountains in my life, and I can’t recall ever climbing one twice).
Never Say “Never”
Still, within just a few days of finishing the French Creek Iron Tour, I found myself reviewing the way I’d prepared … my eating, my workouts, and most of all the tapering phase in the week leading up to the ride, and I began to wonder if I really had done it right. Specifically, I was surprised during the century that I didn’t feel a bit stronger early on. Some fatigue started to set in around mile 40 that I really didn’t expect until mile 60 or so, and even though I had done several rides longer than a metric century, I felt more tired at the 60 – 80 mile distances than I thought I would be.
Each time I set out to do a ride that is longer than the previous one I had trouble knowing how to prepare because I had no frame of reference to tell me whether I should be doing more or less of this or that. Even when I could call upon similar experiences, there usually weren’t enough of them that I could make any real conclusions. Still, now I had a century under my belt, and I began to wonder how much easier it would be, then, to do it again.
It just so happened that a friend wanted to attempt his own first century a couple of months later, so we signed up for the Penn State Chocolate Tour (so-named for the chocolate candies on hand at the rest stops — fitting for a ride in and around Hershey, Pennsylvania). I really didn’t doubt that I’d be able to complete this one … I was still in shape from my preparation for the first century and this one was significantly less hilly.
On the Road Again
In the end, I think complacency got in the way of my great experiment. My family had a great vacation in mid-summer away from the bike and by the time I got home there were only about three weeks before the ride, so there wasn’t really a chance to build up the long rides like I did the first time around. I also frankly wasn’t as driven the second time around — it’s hard to get psyched up to do something you’re about 99% sure you can do. Still, there were some lessons learned.
The first lesson is that although the Penn State Chocolate Tour isn’t as hard as the French Creek Iron Tour, it’s still not easy. Yes, there was no point during the second ride that I considered bailing out and yes, I was able to complete it in nearly an hour less time (due to it being a fair bit flatter), but it was still over six hours in the saddle and that’s a long time to be riding. There’s no way I’d consider doing a century, even an “easy” one, without some serious preparation.
I also paid more attention to my snacks during this second ride. I generally don’t eat much on a bike ride, and if the ride’s less than a couple of hours I don’t feel like it really matters that much whether I eat or not. (Of course, I have a little more “on-board” energy reserves than a pro cyclist, if you know what I mean). After a couple of hours, though, your body is scrounging for energy in a way it’s never otherwise asked to. Well, maybe if you’re starving, but I’m not really into starving if I can help it. So this time I made a point of snacking on a fairly regular basis… I had a pack of gummies and a couple of GUs with me, and after mile 40 I ate a gummy every ten miles and had a GU somewhere around 60 and 80 miles, I don’t quite remember. This is still a lot less than the packages say I should be ingesting (maybe a third of what they recommend), but it did seem to help me keep my energy up.
The GUs were a bit of a disappointment. Their chocolate outrage is a great flavor, and I’d recommend it if you are ever frosting cupcakes. If you’re really just eating for the energy, though, it’s actually way too cloying to be pleasurable. Mandarin Orange is my new pick for when I’m actually exercising.
What they don’t tell you about finishing a Century
Finishing a century is a very satisfied feeling. You’ve been on the bike for hours and hours, and just not riding is a joy in and of itself at that point. Also, you have just spent a hopefully pleasant day riding around seeing the countryside, and if you remembered to put on the sunblock you should not be too toasty at the end. Plus, your Garmin congratulates you on exceeding 100 miles, which is pretty cool.
Lest you start to feel self-important in your accomplishment, though, there is a harsh reality check waiting for you at the end of the ride. I first experienced this at the end of the French Creek Iron Tour, when I walked my bike out to my car through an almost completely empty field, but it was rainy that day and I just wanted to get home and I didn’t give it much thought.
There are no photos of me finishing either of these centuries. The fact is, the photographers had long gone home. When I finished the Penn State Chocolate Tour the only people to greet me were the EMTs standing around the mandatory ambulance. There were no spectators, no photographers. Even the inflatable start/finish arch had been packed away. The dirty little secret of these centuries is that everyone has gone home by the time you’re finished.
And let me be clear: I completed the 100 miles (and 4400 feet of climb) in about 6.5 hours at a pace of 16 mph. Not Olympic numbers, I acknowledge, but this is by no means broom wagon territory, either. I really have no idea where I placed relative to the rest of the field, but there were plenty of people finishing after me. Nevertheless, the food was pretty much gone (I grabbed a few slices from the last pizza to save for my friend, who I regrettably dropped somewhere around mile 40, but that’s another story), the event T-shirts were gone (unless you’re an XXL, but how many XXLs are there doing the 100 mile route?) and the whole thing was pretty much already in the history books.
The problem is that these events have multiple distances (usually something like 25, 50, 65 and 100, for example) and often, if they don’t start all at the same time they start close to the same time (maybe the century riders get a 1/2 hour head start). So the bulk of the event participants have finished hours earlier, got their t-shirts and pizza, and are already home. When I finished the French Creek Iron Tour, I got my buffet lunch (they did a much better job of catering to the late (ie: century) crowd) and sat down, thinking, “Last year (when I did the 50 mile route) they had a band”. Well, they had a band this year, too, but the band was gone by the time the century riders finished. As far as the Chocolate Tour organizers were concerned, the century riders were on their own. It’s not that we are doing it for the fans, but a bottle of water and a banana at the end of the ride would be nice.
At the finish, with Jason who rode with me. Thank God his girlfriend came out to cheer him on, or we wouldn’t have even this photograph!
One more for the road
My last big ride of the season was the Main Line Animal Rescue Gran Fondo (a mouthful… there’s something to be said for their original name, “Handlebarks”), and I tried to apply my learnings from the centuries to my training. Due to some confusion regarding road markings (I will not point fingers, but I have photos to back up my claims… I thought to take photos the second time I passed through the Birchrunville loop) we ended up doing about 66 miles and over 5600 feet of climb, so it was on par with the Chocolate Tour in terms of effort. For this last ride, I really didn’t do any tapering (I felt after the centuries that the tapering I had done the week or so beforehand actually made me feel a little de-conditioned when the big day came). I think I took off the day before, and my rides for the week leading up were a bit more relaxed than usual, but there really wasn’t any tapering per se. In the end, I think that worked best, as I felt the most “myself” for that event. Whether that’s really the right approach if I found myself attempting something closer to the limits of what I can do, I am not so sure. Unfortunately, there’s probably no good way to find that out without actually doing more long rides, so don’t be surprised if I have more posts in the future about century (and maybe even century+) rides, as I try again to crack the code.
Fist bump with my brother at the end of the 2019 MLAR Gran Fondo. Due to our “detour”, I think we may have finished last at this event. Well, last and second-to-last.
This is an objective, non-compensated review of the Lumos Helmet, which was purchased at retail. I have no connection to Lumos.
Santa gave me a Lumos Helmet for Christmas last year. My last helmet, a Giro Atmos II, made the ultimate sacrifice in a high-speed crash last October. I was so impressed with that helmet and how well it protected both my skull and my brain, I went right out and bought another, but Santa thought I could do better.
Strapping on my Lumos helmet
The main feature (you can call it a gimmick if you want) of the Lumos helmet are the built-in lights, and there are a bunch of them. There are white LEDs in the front which will help you stand out in a dark space, such as under shade trees or in a tunnel. In back, there’s a triangle of red LEDs that do the same job. They’re no substitute for a headlight and rear tail light, but a little extra lighting can’t be a bad thing. I think there’s enough data out there to show that lighting beats reflectivity or bright colors for safety.
The real differentiator of this helmet are yellow turn signals, front and rear, activated by either a set of buttons strapped to the handlebars (boring), or activated by your hand signals, facilitated by your Apple Watch (nerdy-cool). Since you can’t actually see these lights when you’re wearing the helmet, it beeps to tell you whether the turn signals are switching on or off, and the beeps for left and right are different, although you should hopefully know which one you’ve triggered.
Apple Watch / Lumos helmet integration
In practice, the Apple Watch integration works fairly well, but not so well that you aren’t going to get a few wrong signals on each ride. You need to calibrate your Watch, using the same gestures that you’d use while riding (that is, arm straight out for a left turn, held up for a right turn). To turn off the turn signal, you shake your wrist. Running over broken pavement can also trigger the wrist-shake gesture and turn off the turn signal, whether you want to or not. I haven’t check this with Lumos, but I believe that the turn signal turns itself off after some number of seconds, so if you had a feel for that you could learn to signal at the right moment and it would time-out when you wanted to. I haven’t used it enough to get that sort of thing down.
Calibration is a little tricky, and it’s possible I really haven’t done it quite right. You need to be in the same position you will be when riding — if you sit up in the saddle you’re not going to get the same effect. Essentially, you need to be riding while you calibrate (or have someone hold your bike while you get into riding position), which is tricky. Lumos has some suggestions about how to gesture for a turn that works best with the software.
Needless to say, you have to wear your watch on your left wrist for all of this to work. It so happens that I broke my left wrist in the same crash in which I broke my last helmet, so I usually wear my Watch on my right now. I have to remember to switch the Watch to my left if I want to use it with the helmet, which isn’t so convenient (switching wrists with the Apple Watch involved changing a setting on your iPhone). Not much Lumos can do about this, but it’s something to think about if you happen to wear your Apple Watch on your right wrist.
Let me talk pros and cons before I tell you how I feel about the helmet overall…
PROS of the Lumos Helmet
Lighting: The lighting adds just a little bit of visibility, which can’t be a bad thing. In my humble opinion, the helmet is good looking and I don’t feel silly with a bunch of lights on my head. The designers did a good job. I think the turn signals do a very good job of alerting riders and traffic behind you (if maybe just for the novelty of it) but since you have to make the hand gesture anyway, are there really circumstances in which you’re really communicating new information via the helmet lights?
Comfort: SPOILER ALERT — this is probably the #1 reason why I’m still wearing this helmet. It’s actually really comfortable to wear. I read a review of the helmet online in which the reviewer said the helmet was heavy compared to others, and that sounds reasonable given the additional battery and lights that it has. In practice, though, I can’t tell the difference. I haven’t weighed the helmets, but subjectively it feels no heavier.
CONS of the Lumos Helmet
False signals: As I said before, it’s really nifty that with a properly calibrated Apple Watch you can trigger the helmet turn signals just by using the ordinary hand signals, but it’s not perfect. Usually the gesture needs to be just so, and it doesn’t work every time. I’ve even had the helmet signal the wrong turn, not to mention all the times that vibrations from the road canceled a turn prematurely. It’s good, but it’s far from perfect.
Battery life: After about 3½ hours, the batteries in my helmet die, and at that point it’s just a helmet.
Cost: As of this writing, a Lumos helmet costs about $180, which is somewhat steep for a helmet. One crash, and I suppose you need to pony up another $180 for a replacement. Lumos should have a trade-in program that would let you send in your damaged helmet and get the electronics transferred to a new shell. You’d think that would cut the price for replacement somewhat, and it’d help with customer loyalty, too.
Would I buy it again?
In summary, let me try to answer the big question: if I didn’t have one of these helmets, would I spend the money to buy one? I don’t know if I would. After all, I was completely happy with my Giro helmet which was far cheaper, and I’m not convinced that the additional lights are that big of a safety feature. Still, the Lumos helmet is pretty comfortable, and I was just out on their website and saw the new models which look pretty slick. If they’re improving the software as they refine the design of the helmet as a whole, I’d definitely at least give it a look.
One open question
There is a beta feature of the helmet that I’m getting ready to try out, a brake light. As I understand it, the helmet (or maybe it’s your watch) detects your deceleration and makes an appropriate signal. When I got my helmet, the existence of this feature was practically an Easter egg, and wherever I could find reference to it Lumos was emphatic about this being a beta feature. Because of this, I haven’t tried it out, but I really should. If the helmet can detect and signal that I’m slowing, that would be useful. Not everyone (particularly non-bicyclists) recognize the “slow” hand signal, and this would be a novel feature. If I can make a determination of its effectiveness one way or the other, I’ll update this post.
The Peloton leaderboard contains a great deal of information on how you’re performing, both against others who are taking / have taken your class as well as how you’ve performed in the past. It’s a fairly data-packed screen, so let’s get into it…
Exhibit A (above) is my own line item on the leaderboard, taken from a point in which I’m about 2/3rds through an on-demand ride. Let me start with the numbers (and other data you see here) before I go onto the leaderboard as a whole.
Personal Record Information
The very top line (that begins with a star) shows me my best effort for the length of class I’m taking. From this, you can tell that the screen shot is from a 45 minute class. The top bar shows my personal record for a 45-minute class (which is 512 kj). On the far right of the bar, you see the number 325. That number is a pacing number. It shows me what my pace was for the ride in which I got my PR. At this point in time in this ride (not the PR ride), I had made only 222 kj (see below for how I know that), so I know that I’m behind the pace for a PR (actually, WAY behind :).
If I am ahead of the pace for a PR, I’ll know it because this whole PR bar will appear below my status, instead of above it. This is handy, because you can tell at a glance if you are headed for a PR or not. Note that you have to have taken at least one class of the same length before you will see the PR bar.
Where I am in the Group
Next, let’s get into the status bar. The first number you see on the left (25) is my position on the ride. This may be my position overall, or it might just be my position within the filtered group (not enough information shown to know). Sometimes you’ll see your position number with another number below it in parentheses, and the number in parentheses indicates the unfiltered position. More on that later.
Moving to the right, you see my avatar. Surrounding my avatar is a partially complete white circle, going from the 12:00 position clockwise to about the 8:00 position or so. This is a visual representation of how far along in the class I am. When he clock is half full (that is, reaches the 6:00 position), I’m halfway through the ride. Note that this clock display of time is only available on on-demand rides — if you’re riding in a live class you will see your avatar but not the clock display.
Next to the right is my leaderboard name (LeftShark), with some information below it. The information below is my location label from my Peloton profile and also my gender and age group (you can choose to show or hide this through your Peloton preferences on your bike). None of these have anything to do with position, they just identify me.
Total Output
The big number on the far right, the one that really counts, is your total output. This number is the same as the one you see at the bottom of your data display (for information on total output and how it’s calculated, see my previous post: Your Peloton Screen). This is the number that determines your rank on the leaderboard.
Filters, Followers and High-Fives
Here’s a second screen shot that illustrates a few other elements of the leaderboard. First, instead of seeing all riders, you are looking at a list of those “Here now” (a distinction made for on-demand rides). Here now, as the name suggests, shows riders that are doing the on-demand ride the same time you are. Now, not all riders on an on-demand ride are at the same point of the ride, but we’ll get to that.
In addition to showing the “here now” riders, this list is further filtered to the subset of riders that I am following. In this case, the list is now limited to just two riders, myself and Mighty Unicorn. You can see next to Mighty Unicorn’s name the outline of a person (or, at least, a bust), which indicates that I am following her.
Before I look at what we can see in the other riders’ line, let me review my own data. I am in second place in the filtered list (of two riders). I am also 69th among riders who are “here now”. The clock circle around my avatar indicate that I have only just begun the ride (maybe a minute or so into it, it’s hard to tell exactly). On the right of my leaderboard line, the number 1 indicates that I’ve generated only 1kj on my ride so far.
Just above my leaderboard line is my PR line. It shows that my PR for this length of ride (which happens to be 45 minutes) is 512, and at this point in my PR-setting ride, I’d already generated 10kj.
Let’s take a look at what we see on Mighty Unicorn’s leaderboard line (again, left to right).
First, you see the number 1 and (29). That indicates that she’s in first place in the filtered list (of people I follow) and 29th in the list of people doing the ride at the moment. (For comparison, I’m second on the filtered list, but 69th in the unfiltered list. It is not shown on this display the total number of people on the unfiltered list.)
To the right of these two numbers is Unicorn’s avatar. Notice the hand icon superimposed on the avatar. This indicates that Unicorn has high-fived me. If I tap the avatar, I will high-five her back, and the hand icon will disappear. I can high-five Unicorn or any other rider –even if I haven’t been high-fived myself– by tapping on her icon. Once you have high-fived someone, there is a waiting period before you can high-five again. I haven’t heard the phrase “high-five spam” used, but that’s what we’d call it if it were a thing. The delay is there to try to help us avoid annoying each other with repeated high-fives.
You can also see that the white “clock” ring around Mighty Unicorn is much more filled in than mine. It’s hard to see exactly how filled in it is because of the hand icon, but it looks like she is about 2/3rds through the ride. So, how does my 1kj effort at, say, one minute compare with her 222kj at, say, 35 minutes? There’s no way to directly compare those, unfortunately, so it is difficult to tell how you’re doing against others in an on-demand ride unless you start at more or less the same time.
Decoding the Leaderboard
Finally, let’s look at the leaderboard near the end of a ride, and decode the information.
Again, I’ll start with myself, now in 44th position (among the riders “riding now”). The circle clock tells you I’m about 3/4th done with the ride, the 308kj I have generated is behind my PR pace of 396. (You can also tell at a glance that I’m behind my PR pace, because the PR bar is above my leaderboard entry.)
In 41st place, at the top of the image, is “harrydorn”, who looks to be just a couple minutes away from finishing. He’s 5kj ahead of me (313 vs 308), so will I pass him? It’s hard to say, but given that I probably have ten more minutes or so than he does left, my guess is yes, I will. I can’t be more exact than that. (Incidentally, if I click on harrydorn’s name instead of his avatar, I’ll see his current resistance and RPMs, which is handy if, say, I’m slightly ahead and want to make sure I can hold off a surge).
In 42nd place is “BGPackergirl”. You can see that there is a checkmark superimposed on her avatar. This indicates that she has finished her ride. Her final output is 310, and will not continue to increase. You can also see that her avatar is slightly dimmed, which indicates that she has logged out of Peloton. Note that you can high-five a rider who has finished (checkmark but not dimmed), but you can’t high-five a rider who has logged out (dimmed avatar).
Next is “SassfroMass”, in 43rd place. Sass (can I call you Sass?) also has 310 kj and looks to be just about finished with his (her?) ride. The checkmark hasn’t appeared, so he’s not completely finished, but the clock circle is complete so the end of the ride is probably only seconds away. Will he pass GBPackergirl to take 42nd place? Probably, but it’s not guaranteed.
Below me is “jholloway7”, with 307kj, in 45th place. Note that jholloway7’s clock is just about as complete as mine, which tells you that we started at more or less the same time and are on pace for a similar finish. My passing SassfroMass, GBPackerGirl and even harrydorn seems pretty much guaranteed, but I’m neck and neck with jholloway7 and if I’m watching the leaderboard he’s the one I need to keep my eye on.
One final note about leaderboard position on on-demand rides. Your position on the leaderboard may not be particularly meaningful, because you are being compared to other riders wherever they are on their own rides. A rider who started the ride thirty minutes earlier will probably remain ahead of you on the leaderboard up until just about the end of your ride (if you even catch them), and a rider who starts thirty minutes later than you probably will not catch up to you before you’re finished even if they’re significantly faster. The only real comparisons you can make are across riders who have all completed the ride.
So, that’s the leaderboard in a nutshell. If you have any questions or feel that I’ve left anything out, please let me know in the comments and I’ll try to address any loose threads.
If you’ve been a Peloton member for any length of time, you probably have been hearing about “calibration”. Not from Peloton, no. They hardly ever mention it. It is a topic in social media, though, and it seems that there is a widespread problem that Peloton may have no way of getting on top of. Potentially a couple hundred thousand of these bikes are essentially out of whack, and there’s no obvious fix.
What is meant by “calibration”?
Calibration, broadly, relates to the data coming back from the equipment that is used (either directly or as part of a calculation) to give the rider feedback on his or her efforts. Calibration could involve the measurements of cadence, heart rate, etc., but when you hear “Peloton” and “calibration” in the same sentence, it is the bike’s resistance that is the topic.
If you need a quick refresher on cadence, resistance, and the other Peloton metrics, click over to this explanation of Peloton cadence, resistance, and output.
Resistance is the measurement of how difficult it is to turn the Peloton flywheel, and is displayed as a percentage. You’d think that this would be essentially linear, with 0 being no resistance and 100 being complete resistance, and that 50 resistance is twice as strong as 25 resistance. If that were the case, this would be a fairly short post.
Resistance, the mystery metric
What’s really important to understand is that resistance is at the heart of pretty much everything else that is measured (besides time and heart rate). I’m speaking specifically of power generated (watts), work done (kilojoules) and calories burned. These metrics (particularly the second) are the means by which Peloton riders compare themselves to one another. If resistance is not accurate, then there isn’t much left in the metrics you can trust.
So, how reliable is the resistance number? That is the million dollar question. There is evidence to suggest that some bike’s resistance numbers are questionable. In fact, there is far more evidence to show that bikes’ resistance numbers vary greatly than there is evidence that there is any uniformity to resistance at all.
This user rode more than two minutes at 100% resistance (and, evidently a short time ABOVE 100%)
Exhibit A: Social media posts in which people talk about how challenging a ride based on how many times they got to 100 resistance. Now, by definition, 100% resistance means that the wheel is completely resisted. That is, it cannot be turned. If it can be turned, then it is by definition not fully resisted. Yet notice the results graph in the accompanying photo in which the rider apparently rides for two minutes at 100% (and then proceeds to exceed 100%, at which point I guess the bike should actually be forcing your pedals backwards, or something).
There are many anecdotes about broken bikes that show 100% regardless of how much resistance is actually added, but it’s probably safe to assume that they are a pretty small minority. If, however, there are some percentage of bikes that people can pedal at 100% resistance (with difficulty, as the proud social media posters note), it begs the question of whether your 100% resistance is the same as my 100% resistance.
Giving %110
It’s like the koan-like question: how can we be sure that when I see the color “blue”, the color I see isn’t the one that you’d call “red”? I know something is blue because it is the same color as other things that I also identify as blue. But I have never seen anything with your eyes, and I have no idea what the color blue looks like to you. I only know that something is blue because I compare it to other things I call blue, and things are only more or less blue compared to my internal frame of reference.
We face the same dilemma when it comes to resistance. Compared to the color example, it is a bit easier (but not so easy) for me to determine if your 40% resistance is the same as my 40% resistance. If it’s wildly different, then I can perceive of the difference, but if it’s close, then it’s not likely I’d be able to discriminate, say, between a few percentage points.
Resistance is futile at the Peloton mothership
I have personally ridden on about five Peloton bikes, and I’d have to say that the ones I rode in the Peloton store, my own bike at home, and my brother’s bike all felt about the same to me. The bike I rode in the Peloton studio, on the other hand, was conspicuously easier than any of the others. Yes, maybe I was pumped up for the ride at the Mothership (SO to JJ!), but I don’t think that accounts for the difference. The PRs I set that day still stand, and my next best effort isn’t close. Although I have no data to back it up, I am convinced that the bike at the Peloton studio was the “easiest” bike I’ve ridden.
This is where “calibration” comes in
This all comes back to “calibration”. Calibration is the act of accurately setting the measuring devices, and in the case of these bikes, is performed at the factory. Presumably, there can be some change over time (“drift” is what it’s called) or calibration could be affected by jostling that occurs during the delivery and installation of your bike, so the calibration tools are included with your bike when it is delivered to you. (Anybody have their bike calibrated by the installers? Didn’t think so. Anybody want those guys making adjustments on your bike? Didn’t think so.) I won’t go into the specifics of calibration, but you can do an internet search to find Peloton’s own instructional video. I’ve been through the video and, in my humble opinion, their process still includes a fair bit of subjectivity that could lead to variations even across “calibrated” bikes.
So, how do you trust that the resistance numbers (and, by extension, the all-important output numbers) are the same from bike to bike? This would seem to be nearly impossible to know. To accurately determine if the amount of effort needed to turn one bike’s flywheel is equal to the effort required for another bike one would need additional equipment, such as replacement crank arms or pedals with power meters built-in. Of course, THOSE devices would need to be calibrated, too!
As it is, I don’t believe anyone has an accurate picture of the amount of variability there are in the power calculations across bikes, and I don’t believe there is really any way that Peloton could measure and correct for this, even if they wanted to.
The good news is that if you bear in mind that your true competitor is yourself, then none of this should really matter. Your own bike’s resistance calibration is not likely to drift significantly over time, so if you are now cranking out 30% more KJs this year over last, you can be pretty sure you’ve made some serious progress.
As for me, I just assume that anyone ahead of me on the leaderboard needs to get their bikes calibrated.
Last week, fitness startup Peloton (you’ve seen their commercials) announced their second product, an Internet-connected treadmill called “Peloton Tread”. This is a pretty dramatic step (no pun intended) for the company, but (pun intended this time) are they putting their best foot forward?
I’m not an expert in the fitness industry, and I’m not even much of an athlete. That said, I’m an active (bordering on fanatical) Peloton rider and I’ve been following the company closely. I’ve become a big fan of the Peloton bike in the past six months since I worked it into my daily schedule. I’ve seen some big gains in my fitness (my doctor was very impressed) and on many days the 45 minutes I spend on the bike are the best 45 minutes of the day. The $2K cost of the bike plus the $39/month subscription, while extravagant by my tastes, has been worth every penny.
So, I’m definitely a fan, but that doesn’t mean that I necessarily agree with every move Peloton makes. And I’m not all that enthused about the Tread, at least not yet.
The New York Times wrote a very good article (What a $4,000 Treadmill Means for the Future of Gadgets) that captured many of the reservations I have, and it’s worth a read. They discuss the price ($4,000) and some of the ways in which the treadmill is different from the bike and therefore might not expect the same level of success.
On top of these observations, I would add one more. When the Peloton bike came to market, they had a model to emulate: the spin class. The Peloton bike faithfully reproduces the spin class experience (so much so that the rider of the Peloton bike is expected to set his or her own resistance via a large plastic knob, where exercise bikes costing much less will do so automatically). You can capture the Peloton bike experience in a sentence: it’s a spin class you don’t have to leave home for. For someone like me, that’s the difference between spinning and not spinning.
Is there an analog for running? Although I am not (nor have I ever been) current on exercise trends, I don’t think there are running classes, where a room full of people come together to run on treadmills, led by an instructor. My own experience with the row of treadmills at health clubs and fitness rooms is that it’s a solitary activity. Each runner has his or her earphones in and is usually watching Headline News on TV, as far as I can tell.
Peloton seems to recognize this, and even in the very first paragraph of their email announcing the Tread to current Peloton members the company asks us to look at it as more than a treadmill:
Peloton Members,
On behalf of the entire Peloton team, I am incredibly proud and honored to announce the launch of our second-ever product, the Peloton Tread™. While we believe it is absolutely the best treadmill ever created, its name and looks are a bit deceiving. Similar to the Peloton Bike™ being #morethanabike, the Peloton Tread is much, much more than a treadmill.
(continues …)
The plan, as it’s been variously described, is that a Peloton Tread workout will be more than running on a treadmill. It will be weights, isometrics as well, so that the workout is not just lower body and cardio (which the Peloton already covers as well). Even the first promotional video, seen on the Peloton website, has as many scenes of our fitness model working out OFF the treadmill. The photo accompanying this article is striking to me because the model isn’t even on the treadmill, instead using it as a $4000 monitor stand.
I am having a hard time getting my head around it: the pitch for the super-expensive treadmill contains the assurance —up front and center— that you will be doing lots of things other than running on the treadmill. It’s a big piece of equipment to be used as a video monitor. And speaking of that, I find it somewhat inconvenient to use my Peloton bike for the “beyond the ride” (off-bike stretches and dumbbell) exercises because the bike itself is often in the way. It’s hard to lie on the floor and try to follow the instructor’s lesson when there’s a large exercise bike in the way. I don’t see that situation being much improved with the Tread.
I hope I’m wrong about that. The “beyond the ride” feature is very compelling and I hope that the new Tread workouts spill over to bike users as well. In the meantime, I am going to be following the rollout of the Tread with some trepidation. Peloton is a quick-growing company with an exciting product in the bike and a lot of potential, and this is a major step that I’m not sure is in the direction that I think they should be going.
What direction do I think they should be going in? I’m glad you asked. If you read my post from last week, Analytics vs. Analysis, you may already know where I’m going. If you haven’t read it, well, you should. Go ahead. I’ll wait. Remember to click on the ad at the bottom and buy whatever they’re selling you, too. Thanks.
To me, the thing that is missing from the Peloton experience is connection. Despite the fact that I’m watching live video, and competing on the leaderboard against real people, I am essentially on my own in pursuing my fitness goals. While the instructors occasionally shout out the usernames of some riders (“Looking good, CrunchyFrog!”), they are really not in a position, with five hundred or more people in the class, to give personalized advice to anyone (even if a spot check of a rider’s stats would be enough to go on). This, I believe, is the next frontier in at-home fitness classes, and it’s going to be a hard one to cross.
What would make this such a challenge is that giving personalized advice is not something that I’ve seen any computer algorithms do well. My Apple Watch sets a calorie goal for me, and if I meet the goal, it suggests a higher goal. That’s not intelligent advice; it’s a five line computer program from programming 101. As I mention in my post from last week, it’s easy to report that I ran 1.71 miles today, but is 1.71 miles good? Will it improve my fitness? Depending on my physical condition 1.71 might be a monumental accomplishment or it might not be noteworthy at all.
Despite all of the metrics and connectivity that the 21st century affords, in the end I am still my own coach (not to mention nutritionist and medic, but one thing at a time…). It is still up to me to understand what all the analytics tell me, to assess my progress toward my goals and to create and refine my plan for getting there. This is where Peloton could really change the game.
Unfortunately, it seems to me that providing these sorts of services would require a lot of manpower. It would be necessary for someone at Peloton (not necessarily the class instructor, but someone) to actually know who I am, what my fitness history and goals are as well as information such as injuries and other limiting factors. My personal coach would also need to be qualified to give me advice, which seems obvious but in practical terms means that the company would not only need to hire people but that these people have special training. I don’t know how many people it takes to produce one segment of Peloton programming, but once the studio is set up I can’t imagine it requires more than two or three. So whether there’s 100 or 10,000 people taking the ride, the investment is fixed (and low). The sort of involvement I’m talking about would require maybe one person for everyone twenty or thirty members, so the more riders you have, the more staff you need. It is not a great equation for making money.
I hope the Tread is a success for Peloton. I hope that the “beyond the ride” offerings continue to evolve and that they’re able to provide a complete home fitness solution. In my humble opinion, it’s going to require offering personalized guidance to their customers, and that’s an expensive proposition. When I see the Tread, I can’t help but feel that they’re avoiding this inconvenient truth and instead attempting to recreate their bike success with a treadmill. Time will tell if this is enough to keep them going.
UPDATE: Entrepreneur Magazine posted an interesting article about the future of Peloton, and the Tread’s place in it. It’s worth a read.
Here’s my background on the subject of this essay, so you can decide how much credence you want to put into the opinions I present.
I am not an expert in the area of physical fitness, and I have no inside information on this company. I don’t have a gym membership, and generally don’t buy really expensive things. However, I do own a Peloton bike and have been a Peloton member for about half a year. I’ve been following the company closely, and have read most everything I can find published about Peloton. Am I right about the Tread? Time will tell.
