Cycling Posturing: €7,400 to Start Riding

Cycling Posturing: €7,400 to Start Riding

There is a viral calculation that leaves one cold: setting up a mountain bike with the minimum equipment to avoid being judged at a cyclosportive costs €7,405 if the frame has full suspension. With a hardtail, the cost drops to €5,905. And this, they warn, is just the floor, the bare minimum so you don't get shunned on the trail. The epidemic of "posturing" has settled into mountain biking, a sport already plagued, according to the diagnosis opening the debate, by people willing to spend a fortune to climb the social ladder and avoid being labeled as "posers" (globeros).

The phenomenon has a name and a price tag. The list is meticulous: rigid carbon bike for €4,000 or full-suspension for €5,500, GPS for €250, subscription to the trendy app for €60 per year, two summer jerseys (€150), two winter ones (€170), two pairs of shorts (€220), two pairs of long tights (€250), helmet for €120, two pairs of glasses for €100 each, winter and summer gloves (€35 and €25), specific socks (€30), shoes (€120), thermal jacket (€100). Total gear: €1,420. Plus accessories: saddle bag, multi-tool, spare tube, tire levers, CO2 inflator, mini pump, bottles, lights. Another €175. The sum is fruta.

Non-technical clothing makes you trash

What is criticized isn't that someone spends what they want. That is a fact, and everyone does what they please with their money. What is pointed out as worthy of study is that many of these people discriminate against and despise those who don't spend as much. Sweatpants, t-shirts, regular sneakers, or street glasses automatically qualify you as trash. Anything from Decathlon, even if it's cycling-specific, is anathema. An aluminum bike isn't a bike; it's a perversos piece of junk. A carbon bike older than three or four years is useless, with outdated geometry, no matter how expensive it was.

The vocabulary betrays the change in religion. You no longer go for a ride; you train. There are no cyclists anymore; there are bikers or riders. You don't eat a banana or a tortilla sandwich; you ingest nutrition in the form of gels or bars priced like caviar. You don't drink; you hydrate, and of course with isotonic drinks. If you go training and don't share it on the trendy app, it’s as if you didn’t go: you don’t exist. And everything is technical. Technical clothing, technical climbs, technical descents, technical equipment. Why use different adjectives when calling everything technical is enough?

Maintenance: the fine print nobody looks at

The initial outlay is just the down payment. The higher-end the component, the more delicate, the more prone to breaking or misadjusting, and the more maintenance required. A €1,000 suspension fork should be serviced every 120 hours of use, and servicing just the fork costs over €100. A €50 chain lasts 1,200 kilometers. After a year of riding quite often with a premium bike, one spends hundreds of euros on maintenance and repairs. If you divide the initial cost plus maintenance by the kilometers ridden in the three or four maximum years that posturing cyclists keep their mount before changing it because it’s become unfashionable, the cost per kilometer ceases to be anecdotal.

Some argue that weight reduction is the only real advantage of carbon and that, all other components being equal, the difference between the lightest carbon frame and the heaviest steel one represents a ridiculous 2% reduction in the total weight of bike plus rider of 80 kilos. For that 2%, they add, you not only pay €3,000 but also sacrifice comfort, safety, longevity, and repairability. The paradox is summed up by another calculation: you do cycling to exercise, then seek a lightweight bike to exercise less. And the cyclist-bike combo is moved by legs: taking 200 grams off the bike can cost €1,000, but afterwards you carry a one-kilo water bottle or nine kilos of fat, which is like carrying the bike on your back.

The one who rides a €380 bike and doesn't go bankrupt

Against the narrative of mandatory equipment, the experience of those who pedal without complexes. A €380 bike and another €200 for gear and accessories are enough to have a great time, according to one account. Another has been using a €500 aluminum bike for six years, maintaining it himself, and goes out on mountain routes of 50 to 80 kilometers with cheap gear, two water bottles, and two pieces of fruit, using a twelve-year-old second-hand hiking GPS. And he meets "crazy" guys with €5,000 and €6,000 bikes. The curious thing, he points out, is that they are earning minimum wage.

Some have crossed the border into France via the Coll de Ares during a heatwave, on a low-range 2010 Decathlon bike tuned with quality transmission, panniers, and Decathlon helmet and glasses, an AliExpress shop, and a night in the forest. The pros laughed at him. None of them had the guts to go out. Another summarizes his kit: €500 mountain bike, backwards cap, sunglasses, Vans, fanny pack with keys, wallet, and phone. Overtaking €2,000+ bikes with automatic shifting and full suspension on asphalt climbs produces a satisfaction that money can't buy. Arriving at a Chinese shop and buying an Aquarius without worrying about bike theft, too.

The gear bubble and the antiestéticar of obsolescence

The market pushes. Mountain bikes are a cash cow, it is claimed: now everyone’s bikes are obsolete because manufacturers decided to invent giant 32-inch wheels. Frame geometry, blah blah blah, are the same old nonsense just to feel unique. Manufacturers and importers must continue creating the need to carry a carbon frame of some unspecified modulus accompanied by €2,000 wheels at least. They are crazy, another digs.

The lingering question is whether it’s a good time to buy or if one should wait for the bubble to burst further. Prices have been and are sky-high, and some doubt that Decathlon bikes are still such a bargain. The answer is not closed. What is clear is that the second-hand market and classics offer alternatives: eternal steel bikes, elegant like good Italian loafers, cheap in themselves, with Wallapop flooded with bicycles for those who enjoy doing a bit of mechanics, cleaning, and caring for the mode of transport.

The new elite: the e-bike as a social elevator

Posturing has found a new vehicle. Those who wanted to show off money by buying expensive bikes while being in pathetic shape soon realized they weren't impressing anyone because in this world performance matters. They switched to e-bikes. Now they go fast, but they are recognized from afar by their posture: they sit on a full-suspension bike and look like ladies returning from the garden with a basket full of flowers. Class on a bike is learned through experience and crashes, but it cannot be bought.

And since everyone has a justification for riding an electric one, technical trails or remote mountain areas have suddenly filled with people who shouldn't be there, according to complaints seeing this as a problem of coexistence and safety in the mountains. The boundary between sport and transport blurs, and with it the patience of those who have been pedaling with their own legs for years.

The "Globero" as a badge

Against the contempt, the reclamation. Some declare themselves "globeros" with airs, or directly "Globero Pro World Tour." The label, born as an insult, has become a badge of pride for those unwilling to let their hobby be ruined. The complete calculation, broken down item by item, yields a surprising difference, and the conversation drifts toward collecting classic bikes, steel frames, epoxy-glued aluminum fittings, and master mechanics who at 93 still make lugs by hand. The underlying question remains unanswered: how much of that spending actually improves the exercise, and how much is pure posturing exploited by brands?