My old Cannondale weighs around 21 pounds (aluminum and upgraded with new wheels). My Trek, about 19 pounds (cf) and my Venge, 16 (cf – after $1,000 in upgrades – and I still have $600 to go which will drop it down to the upper 15 pound range). I’ll cop to getting into the weight game a little bit because it’s fun (if expensive) and I do ride in the mountains at least once a year, but is the money spent necessary? In terms of happy cycling, it’s worth every penny. In terms of performance, the weight game is pretty much a waste unless you’re talking about some serious poundage. For instance, after training for two months (a bit over 1,200 miles) on the set of wheels that came with my Venge, I upgraded to a set almost a full pound lighter. I absolutely felt the difference. Did the upgrade make me faster? Marginally, if at all but my bike looks really awesome.
First, the weight game will largely depend on the size of your wallet, let’s just get that cleared up right away. There are few cheap tricks to making a bike lighter but mostly they’re ridiculously expensive… The simple thing to do, if you want a light bike, is go to a Trek store and buy and Emonda, the nicest one you can afford ($1,650-$15,750) and call it good. You will have the lightest production bike sold in whatever price-point you choose. It’s that simple and a whole lot cheaper (and easier) than buying a heavy bike and trying to upgrade the weight out of it. The low-end Emonda weighs 19-1/2 pounds and the top of the line weighs 10-1/2. You can get the SL 8 for $4,520 (roughly what I will have into my Venge when I’m done) and end up with a bike 1/2 pound lighter (15.5 pounds) – and with a better group set.
With that out of the way, does it matter?
Yes and no. Nine pounds will make a difference no matter what the cyclist weighs, there’s no doubt about that but there’s a price to riding lightweight equipment: Durability. On the other hand, and let’s use me as the example, a recreational cyclist husband and father of two small children, who makes a decent living, taking into account the terrain that I ride on (mainly flat with no “rated” climbs within a 100 mile radius) and I can think of no scenario in which I would need a ten pound bike. Now, a 16 pound bike? That fits my situation a lot better, both monetarily and terrain wise. I can make up any disadvantages with “want to” at that point. In fact, I think the lightest bike on our Tuesday night club ride (the ride that draws all of the high-priced carbon) is 14 pounds, an S-Works Tarmac. Most are around 15-18 pounds.
The title of this post is What Does a Road Bike Weigh though and before we get into this there are a few things that we should get straight. First, weight matters most in the mountains. Second, “want to” will trump a fifteen pound bike six days a week and twice on Sunday. Legend has it that Peter Sagan once won a race on his sister’s bike. So when you hear people tell you “It’s not the bike, it’s the engine”, they’re not kidding. Finally, unless you’re in the mountains, aero trumps weight.
That said, here’s the approximate breakdown by cost/class:
Big-box road bike ($200-$400), twist-grip shifters, steel frame or maybe aluminum frame: 25-30+ pounds. If you have serious road cycling plans, these are to be avoided at all costs. I know, you think $200 is a lot to spend on a bike but if you want to ride with the big dogs, $200 is a lot of money for a pair of shorts. On the other hand, if this is the best you can do, have at it. Just know those twist shifters alone will put you at an exceptional disadvantage… And to upgrade away from them later, you’ll have to change the crank, the rear derailleur, the cassette, the front derailleur, the wheels (probably) and the shifters. Total cost? More than you would pay for a decent entry-level bike.
Entry Level ($600-$900), integrated brake/shifters (Shimano Sora or Claris), aluminum frame, carbon fork: 20-23 pounds.
Mid Grade Entry Level ($900-$1500), integrated brake/shifters, aluminum frame, carbon fork, leisure components (Shim. Tiagra or 105): 19-22 pounds.
Entry Level Race Ready ($1500-$2500), entry level racing components (Shimano 105, SRAM Rival) aluminum or carbon fiber frame, carbon fork: 17.5-19 pounds.
Race Ready mid range ($2500-$4000), entry level racing or 2nd tier racing components (Shim. 105 or Ultegra, SRAM Force, Campagnolo Chorus), carbon fiber frame and fork: 16-18.5 pounds.
High End Race ($4000-$7000), 2nd and Top Tier Components (Ultegra, Dura Ace, SRAM Red, Campagnolo Record), carbon fiber frame and fork, aluminum or carbon wheels depending on price point: 14-17 pounds
Dream Bikes: ($6000-$20000) Top Tier and Electronic Shifting (Ui2, Di2, SRAM Red, Campagnolo Super Record) carbon fiber frame and fork, carbon fiber wheels: 10-15 pounds
Weights are approximations and do not including pedals and cages. Frame sizes do effect weight. Classes and Components are an estimation, the combinations available on the market are too broad to properly classify. The basis for group set types is here. Bikes shown are property of Specialized and Trek bikes, they are used as examples only and are not meant to be a full representation of all available – I stuck with what I know, love and ride myself.
There is a simple rule for buying a bike that works no matter how much or how little a person makes: Buy the best bike you can afford and don’t test ride anything out of your price-range… Best not to know what you’re missing.
In my short write-up on yesterday’s 49 mile ride, a woman who has been reading my blog for years commented that her “OCD would have kicked in” forcing her to ride that last mile to make it an even 50. I like how she thinks, I considered it as well. However, once I reached my driveway, on fumes, I knew the extra mile wasn’t in the cards.
What I failed to mention in that post was that I’d pulled for most of the ride, probably upwards of 70%, including an epic eight mile stint into the wind that was so strong I had to slow down so my riding partner could catch up – twice.
Yesterday was one of those rare occasions when going that last, extra mile isn’t necessary. I already had, for 49 of them.
My buddy Mike likes to ride early, just after sunup. We didn’t have plans to ride but I figured I’d head over to his place to see if he was heading out or not. It was cold, below freezing. Two miles after pulling out of my driveway I wasn’t exactly cursing my decision to suit up in the first place but I was glad that I didn’t run into Mike at the same time. I turned around and headed home having gotten a text from Phil that he’d be riding later after it warmed up a bit.
I rode to meet Phil at the bike shop at 11:15 and we were off. With the wind out of the southwest we were suffering right out of the gate… It was still cold but 45 is a whole bunch better than 31 and the temp was on the rise with abundant sunshine.
We hit mile 18 or so and finally got a little help from the wind which had been steadily picking up in force and that’s exactly when this ride got fun.
I had been pulling for the last eight miles and I was cooked. I tucked in behind Phil to regroup for a couple of miles and we cruised toward home at an easy 20-23 mph.
It was a 49 mile day when it was all over, Michigan fall cycling at it’s best.
When I decided to upgrade my Venge’s handlebar from the aluminum Tarmac drop that came on it to the Specialized carbon Aerofly bar I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the old bar from the Venge was going on the Trek, one way or another. In fact, I’ve been anticipating this change for quite some time. I’ve hated the drop bar that came on the 5200 since the day I bought it. Folks, I’m using the word hate here. First, the original bar was 44 cm wide. I’m a 42 and the old Venge bar is a 42. Now many people will think, “my God, it’s less than an inch, how could that possibly matter!” If you aren’t already aware, the setup of a road bike is a matter of millimeters so centimeters are huge and everything matters. I wasn’t, of course, aware of this important little tidbit about the bar until I brought my Venge home and rode it the first time. The difference, after logging upwards of 5,000 miles on the 5200, was stunning. I went from my arms being just a little too spread out to perfect, instantly. It was a nice change.
Also, and equally important, was the style of drop on the original Trek bar. It was a deep drop ergo hybrid with a flat run under the shifters that is supposed to be more comfortable for your hands when riding in the drops. Looking back, the bar always bugged me but not enough to go through the process of trying to figure out what I did like. Instead, it took a little bit of luck with buying the Venge. Once I rode in the drops on the new bike, I knew what I wanted on the Trek.
I did all of the work and ordering for this little upgrade and there was a lot to it. There were several problems that had to be worked around before I ordered anything. Here are the particulars. The clamp circumference of the new and old bars is different. The new oversized 31.8 mm on the Tarmac bend and standard (26 mm) for the old 5200 bar. This meant the quill stem that I had on the Trek was not going to work. In fact, I don’t know if they even make a proper quill stem for the oversized drop bars anymore, but I was never going that route anyway – finding the proper quill stem for the original bar was difficult enough.
Now, the proper workaround for this is to run out and pick up an Enve fork ($400) and have the threaded headset system swapped out for a threadless headset ($150-$200), then buy a new stem ($65) and I’m good right? For my backup bike? I don’t think so. Instead, I hit Nashbar and picked up their quill stem adapter ($13) that allows one to use a modern threadless stem on a threaded headset (old style) fork ($20). So, $650 or $35 for the rain bike… It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out for a husband with a family of four to think about.
That said, there were still a lot of logistical gymnastics to work through. First, and easiest was the quill stem adapter. All I had to do was measure the diameter of my current quill stem on the 5200 and order the proper adapter (1″). Simple enough. Next up, the stem… I needed the newer oversized 31.8 mm for the bar but it also had to be short (70 mm). The old stem off of my Venge, which was upgraded three weeks ago, is a 110 mm stem so that couldn’t be used. Had I tried to install that on the Trek (a larger frame – 58 cm opposed to a 56 for the Venge) I’d have had to reach almost a full 2 inches further to grasp the bars. Unfortunately, I can’t make my arms longer. To get the length right, you measure the current stem from the center of the bar to the center of the post (the end that goes into the bike’s steerer assembly). Fortunately Nashbar had a great stem for less than $20 that fit my requirements and only weighed 10 grams more than the $165 carbon wrapped stem that went on the Venge just a few weeks ago (don’t tell my wife, please). Add to that, $22 for some new black Bontrager bar tape and I was good to go.
So I ordered the stem and stem adapter from Nashbar and picked up the bar tape from my local shop… Incidentally, I did try the shop for the quill stem adapter first but the one they had in stock weighed about a full pound by feel so that wasn’t going to work. The aluminum Nashbar equivalent was less than half that. The stem and adapter showed up yesterday afternoon so I took to putting everything together. Start to finish, including getting the shifters leveled out and aligned properly and wrapping the bar took about 30 minutes give or take (I didn’t pay attention really, but it didn’t take long at all).
Bob’s your uncle:
I’m not quite done yet, there will be some tinkering to do I’m sure… Whether it’s adjusting the bar up or down or adjusting the hoods a little bit, a little tweak is almost inevitable once I get a chance to put some miles in on the Trek (the Venge is perfect, so I want to mimic that the best I can).
That said, here’s where I’m at, eyeballing the setup on the Trek:
As you can see, the saddles are dead nuts and the hoods are almost perfectly aligned. I’ve got two bikes, different styles of frames, different geometries, different sizes even, different steering assemblies… You know what, let’s keep this simple, the bikes are different in almost every conceivable way with the exception of wheel size, but I managed to get the same setup on each bike to suit how I best put power to the pedals.
If you’re just planning on riding a couple of miles into town at an average pace of 14 mph for a coffee and a muffin, going to this length isn’t entirely necessary. If you’re going to be tearing it up for a couple of hundred miles a week at better than a 20 mph average, this attention to detail is an absolute must.
I was just informed, by one of the clueless Info-babes on the news, that I’d have to run four miles to burn off a bottle of Coke and that “scientists” are pushing to have “fitness information” printed on soda containers (once the soda manufacturers cave, as those sissies always do for something like this, the fast-food industry will be next, mark my words).
I am so utterly tired of this idiotic bullshit. First of all, if I was a 110 pound girl and only ran ten minute mile, maybe it would take me four miles to run off a 20 oz. bottle of Coke (250 calories). Maybe. You know what though? I’m not, I’m a 170 pound chunk of awesome – I could run that off in two miles. Two miles, half what was reported.
So what has me so boiled about this? I get the concept, use it myself in fact when I want to go to the store and pick up a Coke… I think, “look if you buy that Coke (I only get the small size, not the 20 oz.), three or four miles of your evening ride are going right to that bottle – and usually that’s good enough for me to skip it. The problem is that your average porker doesn’t care how many freaking miles they have to run or ride to burn off a bottle of Coke because they don’t RUN OR RIDE. If that wasn’t bad enough (it is), your average plumper doesn’t even drink Coke – they drink Diet Coke. What are you going to put on that? “You have to run 0 miles to burn off the contents of this bottle”. Yeah, that’s brilliant. Incidentally, fatties are why they print caloric content on fast food menu boards and soda bottles in the first place!
If that isn’t bad enough (it is), we’ve got kids being given a few pieces of sliced ham, a couple of crackers, a small chunk of cheese and a nasty piece of cauliflower and a splash of ranch dressing for a school lunch. If I found out that my kid was served that for lunch, shit would hit the fan. My kid’s are freaking competitive swimmers for God’s sake. The 8 year-old swims for an hour straight. The 11 year-old for an hour and a half. They’d burn through that stupid lunch in the first fifteen minutes. You know, I’m a fairly decent, tolerant fellow but I can’t believe somebody actually paid money for that lunch. I’d have thrown it at the “dietician” in charge of ordering that shit.
Here’s my problem: Do-gooder brain dead Liberals make these dumbest-down policies because fat people can’t control themselves around food. Unfortunately it’s only we smart folks who pay attention to that shit so we have to suffer the idiocy too. You could print that you’d have to jog across America to burn off that 20 oz. Coke and people would still buy it. The people for whom it’s intended don’t care. They will care about how this rant of a post was written though:
Fun with Words…
Now, if you’re average you got up to “porker” and I had you. If that didn’t get you, “plumper” got the job done. If you’re an exceptional person you made it all the way to “fatties”. If you’re Mother Theresa reincarnated you made it to this point… You’re about to head to the comments section to accuse me of “fat shaming”. If you’re not overweight or a brain dead Liberal, you’re laughing and already get the joke.
What do you think the intention is in printing how many miles you have to run to burn off a bottle of Coke? It’s meant to shame you into grabbing a water instead. Those “scientists” want to shame you into thinking before you open your mouth to place something in it.
Get it? Have a Blessed day, and I apologize in advance for the language used in this post. It was meant to get a large segment of the population to think. I happen to be a recovering chubby myself.
I have written about my own personal weight loss on any one of my bikes over the last few years. I started out at 170 pounds, dropped down to 149 and then ran my weight back up to 170 at my wife’s request. Now, I may weigh exactly what I did when I started cycling but the weight is distributed differently. I was a runner prior to cycling and I used that to drop from 195 pounds down to 170 but my legs were still less than stellar. After three years of cycling they’re tree trunks of awesomeness. Guessing, five to ten pounds that used to be elsewhere on my body in fat are now concentrated in my quad, glute and calf muscles.
I have a problem though… Popular thinking is that there’s a “fat burning zone”. Getting to that zone is actually quite easy because the target heart rate is only slightly higher than a warm-up pace. This should be fantastic news, especially for those folks who would rather the “Minimal Effort” option of losing weight and getting fit. Here’s my problem: I don’t buy it.
Perusing the web this morning I ran into a compelling article that supports my suspicion that if you want to lose weight, regardless of the mode of propulsion, the best way to do it is to get after it, hard. Now we can’t go hard all of the time, but I don’t like the notion of “hitting the fat burning zone” either. Allow me the dalliance of explaining: While, it appears to me, the article gets the calorie counts wrong (at least for cycling) it does go a long way to explaining one of my long-time suspicions:
So you have gone out at your medium pace (approximately 60% of VOmax) for an hour and burned 400 calories, primarily fat, good work. After the workout you are hungry so you go grab some food… Well, your carbohydrate stores are mostly full because you didn’t use any… Better store most of that 500 calorie meal as fat… Wait what?
Your body is designed to use what it needs, and if it doesn’t need it it will store it as fat until it does.
You go as hard as you can for an hour and burn over 1000 calories, primarily carbohydrates, hard work. After the workout you are hungry so you go grab some food… Well, your carbohydrate stores are depleted because you primarily used them… Better store most of that 800 calorie meal (you are more hungry than example 1 because of the hard workout) as carbohydrate.
1000 calories – 800 calories = 200 calorie net loss = good = weight loss.
Additionally, when you workout that hard you continue to burn calories long after the work out has ended.
Now I’m not trying to say the fat burning zone won’t work for some people, clearly it can. What I take issue with is the notion that finding the best way to lose weight on a bike. First, managing my weight when I was all fast all of the time was much easier. I had to eat a lot more and was perpetually hungry (which helps) to maintain my weight at 160. This year I’ve incorporated many more slow speed rides (16 mph average which would be right around that fat burning zone) and have had to watch at times how much I was eating. I’ve managed to keep my balance and my weight steady, I just had to be a little more careful to do it. In summation, if I have to be more careful and eat less, it would make sense to come to the conclusion that slower speeds don’t burn off more weight (or fat).
Where this gets interesting is when we factor in top speed. I’m clearly faster this year, there’s no doubt about it. I’m up more than one mile per hour on my Tuesday night club rides, consistently. Part of this might have something to do with my bike (my “aero” Venge is said to be 45 seconds faster over a 40 k than my old 5200)… But that’s only good for about 1/3 of the increase. The other 2/3’s is all me, baby and it was completely unexpected. I was certain I’d lose a little speed for the one or two slower days a week I’ve taken this year even though a lot of the evidence points to at least one slow ride a week being beneficial. Of course, the last time I read about mixing slow rides in with the hard days, I picked up a quote that’s stuck with me since, “Your slow rides should be slow enough that you’d be embarrassed if your friends saw you riding that slow”. Technically, I have my wife to thank for riding with me… Not only do I not do “embarrassing myself” well, I got to go completely the other way and enjoy those slower rides. Talk about a gift!
To wrap this up, the purpose of this post isn’t to debunk or refute the “fat burning zone” hypothesis, it’s simply to offer another option if that doesn’t work for you. If nothing else, you get to enjoy a lot more speed than you would at 60% of your VO2 Max.
UPDATE: This evening was my perfect example of a good, hard workout… 19-20 mph into the wind, 21-22 with a minor crosswind and 24-26 mph with the wind at my back. Wind speed was 7-10 mph out of the west. With less than three miles to go I puked in my mouth and still managed a 23 mph average over the next mile and a half. Now I did have my minimalist cycling computer for feedback but truthfully, it’s the old puke in my mouth that lets me know that I rocked my butt. If you never have experienced this rite of passage, there’s only one way: try harder.