The middle aged man walks the halls in banner painted lycra

Wheeling his bright red bicycle to the elevator

His clumpy cleated shoes tap dance on the tiled floor

Announcing his presence loudly

waiting for the elevator

Leaning on his two wheeled walking stick

This handicapped walker is like a fish out of water

Speeding downward in the elevator

Emerging at ground level into the parking lot

Checking his back pocket for keys and sugar laden snacks

A strong leg is thrown over the cross bar

Straddling the tamed beast for a ceremonial moment

Adjusting the visor on his helmeted head

Cranking the left pedal backwards

Until his foot is near the ground

A resounding click welds his shoe to the pedal

A slight backward crank primes his muscles for takeoff

The beast lunches forward as his right shoe clicks in

Man and bicycle are now welded together in unison

Hands push down on the odd shaped bars

Palms resting on the hoods of the infrequently used brake levers

Padded shorts rise skyward to meet the ridiculously high razor blade seat

Arms stretched out into the wind

A small computer on the handlebar displays his progress

Speed and heart rate rise in unison

While pedal rpms stay constant

Gear changes are fully electronic on this high tech machine

Every nut and bolt has been trimmed for weight

The featherlight carbon fibre frame mimics airplane wings

Slipping through the reluctant air softly

The middle aged man flies low at 25mph

His skin tight costume refuses to flap in the wind

It will be a short 30 mile ride today

The computer reminds him to hydrate every 15 minutes

And to eat something every hour

He obeys all the computer commands

Resembling an android caught up in an exercise video

At the end of the ride he hits finish on the bike computer

Now back in control of his own life he sighs in relief

The sweaty middle aged man walks back along the halls

Dripping perspiration along the corridor

Passing residents nod either in admiration or disapproval

Upon arrival back home he consults his home computer

Which has monitored every parameter of his ride

Via a link to his bike computer

It tells him is effort level is way too low

He needs to pedal harder and longer

He nods in acceptance of the computer instructions

Lycra goes in the washing machine for a tumble

While he naps and dreams of riding in the Tour de France

His computer wakes him up

He briefly questions why he rides this bike at all

The home computer reminds him he must try harder tomorrow 

He has had enough

The hammer pounds the home computer

Leaving debris allover the floor

Its a short walk to his beloved bike

The bike computer is switched off

Saved from the fate of the hammer

The next day

The middle aged man walks the halls in banner painted lycra

Wheeling his bright red bicycle to the elevator

He rides his usual path without data reporting instruments

Riding the rest of the day at his own pace

Stopping for lunch by a river

Dropping his bike computer into the deep water

Freedom at last

Coming home alone

No computer to interrogate him

No data analysis

No speed, cadence, distance, power and heart rate tracking

From now on its just him and his bike on the open road

Back to old school cycling

No more data driven decisions

Riding by instinct from now on

He rides in the Tour de France nightly in his dreams

The other riders are in awe of his riding style

As he speeds up the mountain

Leaving them for dust

They all ask their computers for instructions to catch him up

But their computers have no answers

They do not know how to compete with a non-data driven human

The middle aged ghost rider wins the Tour de France nightly