When I was a kid, I yearned to have a speedometer on my bike so I could measure my sprints against the neighborhood kids, but none was forthcoming. Bike speedometers were few and far between in the small farming community where I lived, and I forgot about them as I progressed from bike to bike as I grew up.

Decades passed, times changed. When I returned to serious cycling about five years ago after a 10-year hiatus, one of the first accessories I put on my bike was a bike computer, also known as a cyclometer. I’ve since mounted cyclometers on each of my three bikes. I didn’t give this a second thought until early January when I read a discussion about bike computers on the Surly Long Haul Trucker & Cross Check Group. The original poster asked for suggestions for a cyclometer to put on his bike. He received many replies from cyclists—including me—offering their views, and a lively discussion followed. Then someone piped up with a different point of view. He wondered if he was the only person who disliked cyclometers. He finds that they detract from the pleasure of riding. Fair point, and one which got me thinking: Why do I like a cyclometer? Am I a scientist or accountant by nature, as one contributer postulated, or a practical cyclist, as another suggested?

Work and the other demands of life imposed, and I had to suspend my internal debate on the subject till now, when I have time to settle the question. Am I a scientist of accountant by nature? Yes, the former—I’m a geologist by training AND a scientist by nature—and I’m also a practical cyclist. So why do I use cyclometers? Many reasons. Aside from the child within begging for a speedometer, the more level-headed me wanted a cyclometer because I’d begun an exercise program, and a cyclometer could help me keep tabs on the progress I was making. I’d recently been diagnosed with hypertension and possible heart problems, and in conjunction with a heart rate monitor, I could temper my physical output with the demands made on my heart. I also mounted one on my nowhere bike, so I could determine how hard I was working in any given session when the snow flies and makes road biking dangerous. That’s the scientist satisfied.

 

 
The practical cyclist was interested in how long it took to go any given distance on my utility rides. This made planning possible for car-free living. If you’ve ever had to do all your chores by bike, it pays to know how long it takes to get from place to place. I live in a rural county with no public transportation, a place with a harsh climate and rough terrain, where distances between vital services are as great as 70 miles. It’s good to be able to predict your average speed for routine tasks like getting groceries, and for less routine trips like making it to a medical specialist for a biopsy. With a cyclometer aboard—and an accurate ride log—it’s possible to know the possible.

But then there’s the pure pleasure aspect of cycling. Sometimes it’s just plain fun to know how fast I’m going, or how steep a slope was. I’m not a “numbers person,” and don’t measure my success by numbers, but it can be a blast to be steaming up a steep slope and glance down to see that the cyclometer reads 12 percent. Having said this, do I stare at the cyclometer as I’m tooling around on fun rides? No. Does it draw the eye like an aquifer draws the divining rod? Uh, uh. Does it take away from the pleasure? Not at all. I can see why some cyclists would find cyclometers a distraction, but on the few times I’ve found myself staring at the agonizingly slow speeds I was making up 20 percent grades, I just rotated the cyclometer’s mount on the handlebars and gave it no more thought. In the end, though, the choice about whether or not to mount a cyclometer is yours.

 
And for another point of view, here’s what cyclist and full-time wanderer Barney Ward of the blog Old Fat Man Adventures has to say about using cycolmeters:

 
Mine is used to monitor my distance away from my start point. I know my abilities well and my inabilities better. My care is to make certain that a return is well within my ability. Then a shorter loop is ridden in hopes of making my abilities grow to longer rides. Additionally out in a lot of the West the roads are not marked and the mileage is needed to navigate your chosen route. The correct dirt road 8.3 miles down this road may not be easy to tell from the one at 8.0 miles when riding without navigation assistance.

 
I’d overlooked that aspect of cyclometers, and Barney makes a good point. Worth remembering when exploring fire roads in the Adirondacks, too. Thanks, Barney!

 
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