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