Tag: bikes

  • Before You Buy the Bike

    In a previous post, Comfort is Speed, I talked about the process of bike fitting and some of the advantages and gains. But there is one particular gain that needed its own post.

    When bike manufacturers build bikes, they have to cater for people of all shapes and sizes. They have to decide on average component and frame sizes that will work for the largest number of people, while also keeping design and manufacturing costs under control.

    They are in business after all. They are there to make money.

    So bikes are sold, mainly, by frame size. Small, medium, large. 50cm, 52cm, 58cm and so on.

    Those frames come with a stem length and crank length that have been chosen by the design team based on their experience. When you buy a bike off the shelf, that is what you have to work with.

    Bike manufacturers also publish the frame geometry. That means the length of the various tubes on the frame, the angles at the junctions, and the measurements that give you a general idea of what the bike will be like to ride.

    Sizing charts are published too.

    To cater for the masses.

    When I bought my Giant and my Triban, I bought them both based on my height, inside leg measurement, and the sizing chart the manufacturer had published.

    We talked about rules of thumb in the previous article, and one of those rules when buying a new bike says that if you are halfway between two frame sizes, you should go for the smaller one. The logic is that it is easier to extend components than it is to shrink the frame once it is in your shed or garage.

    I was between sizes on the Triban, so I bought the large frame, not the XL.

    It turns out that for my height, I have fairly average length legs but great big long monkey arms and torso.

    And so it transpires that the frames of the bikes I own are too small for me. Yes, they are okay for leg length, but they are too short for my upper body. To get anywhere near the level of comfort I need, the stems have to be extended.

    After a few years of ownership, that is not a huge issue. You find it out, spend some money on a new stem after a bike fit, and move on.

    But what if the bike was brand new?

    What if you had just spent a considerable amount of cash on a new bike, only to find out straight away that it needed a new stem, different cranks, different pedals, or maybe even that you had bought the wrong size frame?

    I, for one, would feel a bit miffed.

    Cue the second type of bike fitting: the pre-purchase bike fit.

    I am in the very lucky position of being in the process of buying a new bike. A lot of research has gone into this purchase. I want something I can ride all day. Something I can ride fast if I want to. Maybe even something I can take away from the main road and down quieter tracks and trails.

    Most of all, I want it to be comfortable and able to deal with the poor surfaces on the roads near where I live and ride most often.

    My recent experience has shown me that most of the comfort comes from fit and dimensions. It has also shown me that I am not an average shape.

    So I booked another session with Bike Fit Barry. No sponsorship, no arrangement, just a very happy customer.

    For the new bike fitting session, Barry used a fitting jig. It mimics a bike, with handlebars, saddle, pedals and all the adjustable contact points. He had it set up when I arrived using the same dimensions from my Giant, based on the previous fitting session. That was the starting point.

    This time Barry also measured me properly, not just my height and inside leg. He measured hip to knee, knee to ankle, shoulder width, shoulder to elbow, and elbow to wrist. In other words, he was not just fitting a bike to “someone about my height.” He was building a picture of how I am actually put together.

    I had already narrowed the new bike decision down to one of two Mason bikes: the Bokeh and the Definition. I had been in touch with Mason and had booked a test ride on both bikes, each on a 58cm frame, because that is what the sizing chart suggested I needed.

    Barry had the geometry and frame details of the Mason Bokeh in his computer, and we went through the process of getting me set up in a comfortable position.

    Seat height. Stem length. Handlebar height and width. Crank length. Each change was documented until we found a comfortable fit.

    Barry even asked if I was going to buy new pedals for the bike. I said I hadn’t considered it. He told me about some Shimano pedals with a 4mm longer axle and said I should try them.

    He went outside to his own bike, took them off, and put them onto the fitting rig.

    The change was small but significant. It released pressure I had been feeling in my hips and lower back. These micro-adjustments can make a massive difference to the whole setup and feel.

    There were three big “oh wow” moments for me in this session.

    The first was the extra axle width on the pedals making such a difference to how my hips and back felt.

    The second was the shorter cranks. Normally, on a large or XL frame, the cranks will come from the factory at 170mm or maybe 172.5mm. For me, for the new bike and the way I am built, 165mm cranks are the way to go.

    The third “oh wow” moment was the big one.

    It turns out that the 60cm Mason Bokeh frame is the one I should go for.

    Because it is longer and taller than the 58cm frame the sizing chart pointed me towards, it accepts my long monkey arms and torso without me having to concertina myself into the available space between saddle and handlebars.

    This is huge.

    This new bike is my own personal indulgence for something I really love to do, and I can only imagine how disappointed I would have been if I had bought the wrong sized frame.

    Again.

    I am still going to ride the bike before I place the order, and that will happen in the next couple of weeks. But because of the bike fitting, I now know the exact measurements of the components I need.

    The beauty of the Mason model is that I can take everything we learned in the fitting session and pass it on to them, so they can build the bike specifically for me.

    It’s like going to Savile Row and having a bespoke suit made.

    If you are thinking of buying a new bike, and if you are going to spend your hard-earned cash, find a way to budget for a pre-purchase bike fit. Make sure you buy the right size frame, or even the right brand and model bike for what you actually want to use it for.

    Many bike fitters offer a follow-up session for when the new bike arrives, just to get it set up properly. Barry does, and I will be seeing him again in a couple of months when my new bike arrives.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment.

  • The Junction at 35K

    In less than two days, I’ll be on the start line for the 150km sportive. There are two routes that day — 100km or 150km — and at the 35km mark, just after the first big climb, there’s a junction. Turn left and it’s the shorter route. Turn right and it’s the full thing. That choice feels like the whole ride in miniature: test the legs, listen to the head, and then decide whether I’ve got what it takes to go the distance.

    I’m excited, a bit nervous about riding in such a big group, but I know from experience that it thins out quickly enough. What sits with me more is whether the work I’ve done this year is the right kind of work. I haven’t ridden over 100k in three weeks, but the last one I did was 121k. The rowing and strength work mean I’m heavier now, but heavier in the right way: stronger, more resilient. I can leg press 150kg these days, not bad for someone who struggled with 70 when I started measuring this in March 2025. The endurance rows have kept the engine ticking too, even when the weather kept me indoors.

    The bike has been through its own transformation this year. Lighter wheels, better gearing, and most recently new gel pads and handlebar tape that have taken the sting out of the Irish roads. It’s not set up for rain, no mudguards, but this is Ireland, rain is part of the deal. Still, I’ll be riding with a piece of both my parents: the bike bought with a little money from Mum when she passed, and the saddle from Dad for my birthday. That matters more than any component choice.

    Success on the day is simple: finish strong without grinding myself into the ground, enjoy the company of my friends, and carry the memory with me. If the legs aren’t there and I have to turn left at the junction, then so be it. If something mechanical forces me to stop, then I’ll still have had a weekend away with good people. But if the legs are there, and the head is steady, then turning right — taking on the full 150 — will be the real win.

    This ride isn’t part of the Sub-7 Experiment, not really. Different training, different demands. But it is part of the bigger experiment: how to keep moving, how to choose things that are mine, how to remember that age hasn’t caught me yet. This is one of the rare things I do just for myself, away from family. And yet, finishing it well at 55 is also a reminder of what I bring back to them: proof that I can still do hard things, still choose adventure, still find joy in movement.

    The road will be long, but I won’t ride it alone.

    This is the Sub-7 Experiment and this weekend I am mostly riding a bike.

  • Dialing in the Ride

    I’m lucky enough to own two bicycles.

    One is a ten-year-old carbon-framed beauty with super nice wheels—it looks great, rides fast, and I love it.

    The other? A budget-friendly bike from a well-known French sporting chain. I bought it as a winter bike—something I could slap mudguards on and ride in all weathers without worrying about it. I figured if I ever crashed, at least I wouldn’t be watching an expensive piece of carbon fiber shatter into a million pieces.

    Here’s the weird thing…

    According to Strava, I set more personal bests on the cheaper, heavier bike.

    Meanwhile, when I’m on the expensive one, I feel like I’m hammering it, but the numbers don’t reflect it. It didn’t make sense.


    The Bike Fit Revelation

    A good friend has been telling me for years to get a professional bike fitting.

    I resisted.

    To my untrained eye, it seemed like a case of paying someone to adjust my saddle height—something I could figure out myself with a bit of trial and error, right?

    Wrong.

    I finally gave in and booked a bike fitting. It was a fantastic experience.

    The morning started with:
    ✅ Body measurements—measured against the bike setup
    ✅ Injury history & pain assessment—what aches, imbalances, or old injuries might be affecting my riding?
    ✅ Mobility tests—walking up and down the studio while the fitter analyzed my gait and flexibility

    And that was before we even touched the bike.


    Cleat Position: The Foundation of Everything

    Before we even looked at saddle height, we spent 30 minutes on my left shoe alone.

    Not just adjusting the cleat position but making sure that:
    ✅ I was comfortable on the pedals
    ✅ My foot placement allowed for optimal power transfer
    ✅ Everything felt natural and stable

    Then, I started pedaling.

    Cameras in front, behind, and from the side captured my riding position. These were plugged into a laptop where the fitter analyzed:
    ✅ Leg angles & hip tilt
    ✅ Arm position & reach
    ✅ Pressure distribution on the saddle

    Every tweak—seat height, fore/aft positioning, bar height, even tilt adjustments—was measured, discussed, and refined.

    One of the biggest changes? Moving the handlebars down.

    I’d always assumed, with my long torso and monkey arms, that I’d need the bars higher for comfort.

    Nope.

    Lowering the bars made a massive difference.


    Post-Fit Struggles: Where’s My Power?

    There was only one problem.

    Changing my position and connection to the bike made it feel like I had no power in my legs.

    This is expected. Even the pros experience this after a bike fit adjustment—the body needs time to adapt. The only solution?

    Get out and ride.


    Today’s Ride: Strange, but Good

    So that’s what I did.

    It was a beautiful spring morning—not too warm, not too cold, blue sky, crisp air. Perfect cycling weather.

    I did my usual 22K loop—230m of climbing, 57 minutes total.

    It felt weird.

    But also really good.

    This was only my third ride since the fit, and already, I feel stronger, more comfortable, and more stable.

    One thing became clear—I have a massive leg imbalance.

    The fitter reckoned if I had a power meter, it would show a 25% / 75% power split left-to-right.

    The fix? Conscious effort.

    A tip from the fitter:
    🚴‍♂️ On climbs, count 20 pedal strokes per leg.
    🚴‍♂️ Focus on the left leg, then switch to the right.
    🚴‍♂️ Repeat.

    By actively engaging both legs, I should rebalance the power output.

    More saddle time will bring back the power.

    I hope.

    But today was a win.

    ✅ Great to be out.
    ✅ Great to do something different.

    This is The Sub-7 Experiment.