Ethel wants a Wahoo Kickr for Christmas.
Now, if your are (say) “not of the cognoscenti” – one of the hoi-poloi, in the rank-and-file of the unwashed masses – you might not know what a Wahoo Kickr is. Well, that’s your misfortune. Don’t admit to that anywhere, because – well, people would make fun of you, is what.
And, when you can get a Kickr for only $799, well, then, that’s like MAKING money!
A Wahoo Kickr is, basically, a bike trainer. You can buy bike trainers for less than a hundred bucks – heck, I bought one at a yard sale for ten dollars. I also have a good bike trainer, a CycleOps Fluid2, which I got for maybe $250-300.
But those are trainers that normal, sensible folks might buy. But a Wahoo Kickr (you’d think that, for that much money, they could have spelled out the whole word. How much would an ‘e’ cost, anyway?) is a bodacious power-meterin’ cadence-controllin’ Strava-uploadin’ computerized-trainin’ gadgetosaurus rex that will vary the load based on how many watts you want to push or based on some mapped route you downloaded or a whole of other parameters that I’m not smart enough to understand.
I don’t need a Kickr. I’ve only done four triathlons.
But ETHEL needs a Kickr, after only doing one triathlon!
(Editor’s note – I have to admit that everybody that I know who’s used a Kickr wants one (it seems). They seem to be really cool gizmos. And, of course, anything that Ethel wants, she can have, and I say that emphatically. I, myself, don’t need a Kickr; for one thing, Kickrs are to help one train HARD, and for the next several months, I’m just trying to regain my aerobic fitness, and off of my cycling is recovery work, done around 17 mph with a heart rate around 100. If I do do any hard training, it will be running, because, well, that’s who I am.)
Truth be told, Ethel went to a Kickr training session at her coach’s house, and came home raving about it – and anything that gets Ethel that excited simply must be obtained. It’s so much fun watching her do this training thing that I’m helpless to resist and request; enthusiasm is its own salesman.
And I paid almost that much for my own power meter, a Stages crank assembly for the bike – now, my power meter can’t simulate a route segment of the Tour de France, but you can’t actually ride up Big Mountain Pass with a Kickr on the back of your bike, either.
One problem with getting Ethel her Kickr, though, and that is that it’s going to make the Office of Ouch very, very crowded. Right now, we have my work desk and chair, the dreadmill, and the CycleOps trainer; when we put the Kickr in here, that’s going to mean walking around something to get anywhere. We’ve talked about swapping out the guest bed from upstairs – in Ethel’s office – and putting all of the workout stuff up there. This makes sense, as we are working out every day, but we’ve never actually HAD a guest stay in that guest bedroom.
What am I thinking? I don’t have to wonder about all of this stuff. It’s Ethel’s Kickr – let Ethel figure out where to shove it! 🙂