I upload all of my commuting information via Strava. If I were smart (which I am not) I would have a separate accounts for commuting, racing, recreational rides, family jaunts and riding home from drinking extravaganza’s which sadly in parenthood, seem not to happen as much as during previous incarnations of myself.
I was riding home rather lazily the other evening enjoying the humidity and marinating in my own perspiration. I finally make it home after not having pushed pace and went to upload my commute. On a fairly flat section that was made to burn down, I scored a 144 out of 147. I knew that at least 120 of those riders weren’t faster than me, though Strava don’t lie. I was almost embarrassed, but not nearly as embarrassed as number 147. I’m sure number 143 was a toddler on a trike, but to my credit, it was probably outfitted with Zipp 404’s. As I laid on the floor picking up dust bunnies with my jersey, I figured that I would never be able to escape the grip that Strava now has on the cycling community.
I’ve had several conversations where within that first sentence of recapping the story, Strava was mentioned. I’m addicted to the site as well, though I haven’t targeted a segment in months. That got a little too stupid for me, when it started taking over the enjoyment of the experience. To each his own of course, but riding for stats and not for pleasure almost makes it like a job and that’s pathetic.