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Is Running Slow Safely Safer than Running Hard After Safely Securing Safe, Yet Expensive, Running Shoes?
If you’re scratching your melon at the Title question, well, it’s not you.
There is nothing I disdain more than presenting an argument that is the exact opposite of the truth, then supporting said argument with false evidence that is spun to make it appear real, to prove a point that isn’t possible in the first place.
President Trump, call the Oval Office. Or the President of Ukraine. Or something.
I read a post a while back that proposed running barefoot or, at the very most with minimalist shoes, was better for one’s feet than running in expensive, padded running shoes, that running in “expensive”, heavily padded shoes causes more injuries. My jaw hit the left-click button on my laptop. Especially with the “barefoot” part. I used to follow the blog of a woman who was trying to run barefoot. She claimed it better connected her to the earth. Well, she wasn’t wrong. Several lacerations and overuse injuries, she’d spent more time nursing injuries than running. It was a horror show. She was persistent, though. I’ll give her that.
This re-jiggering of reality was first presented in Born to Run, where the author tried to claim that shoe companies were cashing in and bilking runners whilst, and at the same time, hurting them because of their overindulgence of padding the foot, which in turn cushioned the blow to the body’s joints and muscles. That allowed people to run faster than they should run, therefore causing injuries. The additional claim was that the padding of said shoe related to the price. The post I read linked to this post.
The minimalist craze was born! And minimalist shoes, with no padding to blunt the shock to the body, came out… and they were the same price, or more that their padded brethren. You couldn’t have made it up. Oh, the Vibrams! The ugliest damned thing ever to be put on a foot… well, that may be a little over the top, but not much.
And then running injuries increased exponentially. Too many runners, new to the minimalist craze, tried to do too much, too fast for their muscles to handle the extra load.
Including this guy.
I tried minimalist running for exactly 1.25 miles. I’d gone less than a mile before pulling the plantaris muscle in my upper calf (just behind the knee). I went another quarter of a mile trying to see if the pain would go away. It didn’t, and a trip to the doctor was in order. Fortunately, I didn’t miss any more time, but you can bet I immediately went back to running with normal running shoes.
See, here’s the real, no BS truth; running with minimalist shoes really is marginally safer, because the shock of running hurts so f***in’ bad, you actually have to change how you run to be able to run more than once a month. This requires one slow way down and build up speed over a series of months, or even a year because the muscle groups fire different for front foot striking.
The horse-pucky in the study, however, arrives when you count the break-in period. The number of running injuries during that time, if one makes just a simple mistake in foot fall, are through the roof – and the report in question even says this is the case, it just pretties up the language to lull the reader to sleep and then tosses the baby out with the bathwater, as they say.
In other words, something stinks – and it ain’t high-priced running shoes.
This leads us to the most important lesson, however. Having been a runner myself, now fully enmeshed in cycling, because it’s way more awesome; buy a bike. You won’t have to worry about who’s fleecing you and why. EVERYTHING is expensive in cycling… and as long as you don’t get squished by a car, taken out by a friend, or a deer, or a charging pitbull, or a runaway squirrel, or struck by lightening… Um… well, it’s usually much better on your body.
PS. That’s the same look on my face when I pass a runner with that wrinkled up expression of pain and suffering stretched across their face. It’s saying, “I feel your pain, my friend… but only as a memory.”
I’ve been struggling, a happy struggle mind you, with the saddle on my Trek 5200. Specifically, the height of said saddle on said 5200. The fore/aft location is darn-near set in stone, as I prefer my kneecap to line up with the pedal spindle per the normal setup of a road bike.
First, that Montrose Pro carbon saddle is one fine saddle and some the best money I’ve spent on that bike went to that saddle. It’s got the perfect blend of lightweight, flexibility, and padding for a long distance saddle. I can even wear my thinner chamois bibs for 70+ mile rides on it – bibs I once only wore for 25-35 mile rides on inferior saddles.
My biggest issue has been getting the height dialed in so my Trek feels like my Specialized, though. So, second would be the disclaimer that I’m notoriously picky about saddle height. Obsessive isn’t really a good word, but it comes pretty close to reality.
When I picked the saddle up, I first set it just a touch too high (my measurement is exactly 36-3/8″). I lowered it once because my keister was hurting. Then I lowered it another bit because it still hurt my heinie and by that time, my back was hurting and starting to seize up on me every now and again. The second lowering did the trick, and that’s where I left it for DALMAC. I rejoiced for the weekend because the saddle felt excellent, with only a minor flareup of baboon @$$.
It wasn’t until I got back and rode the Venge a few days, then took the Trek out once more, that I realized the saddle on the Trek was a little too low. It felt it at the time, but in reality, it wasn’t by much. It just felt… off. It felt like I wasn’t getting my full leg extension, that I was working just a little too hard.
Well, Saturday afternoon I raised the saddle up to test my theory, thinking maybe I lowered it too much the last time. I didn’t raise it much, maybe 1-1/2 to 2 millimeters:
With the heightened chance of rain on Sunday, I rode the Trek. At first he saddle height felt right, or better at least. I was definitely getting full leg extension, and I felt a bit stronger. 40 miles in, I was antsy in the saddle and my back pain started in again. I knew I’d raised it too much. There was too much pressure on the sit bones. On coming back, I split the difference and lowered it by about half… and nirvana!
I rode with my buddy, Chuck Monday night, picking my lightest pair of bibs, and I could tell instantly, I nailed it. Finally.
I almost can’t believe it, the infinitesimal amount I’m talking about, but I’m here to tell you, that millimeter made a difference (actual difference once I lowered the saddle is half the gap shown above between the seat post and the marker line).
So here’s what was messing me up; having the saddle high helps keep your butt up and your head down – it’s aerodynamic. Having the saddle up also allows for a stronger pedal stroke. Unfortunately, having the saddle too high also hurts like hell.
Does it help that I’ve got the Venge to contrast what I’m feeling on the 5200?
*Does it or doesn’t it help to have a phenomenal race bike to contrast my other bikes against? Look, this is going to be a matter of perspective. It’s more a blessing than a curse as I see it. Having the Venge to match the Trek to has made the Trek a significantly better bike. I never could have gotten it to where it is, as fast as I did, without the Venge. Mrs. Bgddy might disagree with that assessment as it pertains to cash, though. Ouch.
My friends, there once was a time I thought a lightweight race saddle was going to be a relatively hard saddle that had to be put up with, rather than enjoyed, over a long haul.
I had a beautiful Selle Italia 110 gram saddle on the Trek, then on the Venge, that was close to fantastic but it was in the realm of the hard saddle that had to be put up with when the mileage bounced over 50. It was nice enough, and was a huge weight improvement over my 274 gram Specialized Romin saddle that goes on the Venge. It was an even bigger advantage over the $25 mountain bike saddle I had on the Trek, though that mountain bike saddle was comfy.
The Selle Italia started out on the Trek at the beginning of the year, then went over to the Venge when I decided I wanted to get all weight weenie to see how light I could make it. I loved it on the Trek, early in the season. It wasn’t great on the Venge, though. I just couldn’t get comfortable in it on the longer rides. As I put more miles on my butt throughout the season, I became less and less fond of the saddle on the Venge so I switched it back to the Trek. That magic I’d felt early in the season was gone. With 4,000 miles on my hind end, what was once fairly wonderful became a bit like riding on barbed wire after a metric century. The saddle had to go – I’m not paid to ride and I’m not putting up with an ultra light saddle just so I can say my Venge weighs 15-1/4 pounds instead of 15-1/2. Better, it’s the difference between 18 and 18-1/2 pounds on the Trek. Folks, 18 pounds is 18 pounds, and I need something I can be comfortable in on the long haul rides, because that’s what the Trek is for.
On a fluke I happened on a sale on the Bontrager/Trek website. They had the Montrose Pro on overstock sale, $100 off. I paid $120 for mine – a fantastic deal for a high-end saddle.
The profile is almost a perfect match to the Specialized Romin on the Venge that I absolutely love. A little less rise on the nose, but otherwise, a spot-on match.
After the storm, the clouds parted and the sun shone…
After a couple of test rides I took the saddle and my Trek up north on a road trip with two of my best cycling friends. 77 miles on day one, 67 on day two. The saddle is my new favorite. It’s a fantastic balance of bounce and padding – and my 5200 needs a little help in that regard. It’s a pretty stiff ride for a carbon fiber frame and fork.
There’s about 50 grams difference between the Montrose and that previously mentioned Selle Italia saddle, and it all went into padding in the perfect places, and no more than absolutely necessary.
I am not all that flexible (I’m no spring chicken) and I ride an aggressive setup, so having the right saddle, that allows my hips to rotate a little so I can get low enough, is a requirement. That’s exactly what the Montrose’s profile does.
I’ve always wanted the 5200 to be just a little more comfortable than my Venge so I’d ride the Trek more… and I’ve always felt that was impossible. The Specialized is fourteen years newer so the technological ride advances are huge. Not only do they make today’s bikes light and aero, with a little manipulation of the lay-up, they can make today’s frames stiff where it’s needed for power transfer, but compliant where that’s needed for ride quality. Not to mention, the Trek will only fit a 24mm tire while the Trek will easily fit a 26… more volume in the tire means a better ride.
The Trek has one thing going for it over the Venge; the Trek is just a touch more vertically compliant than my Venge. Vertically compliant means I’m not quite as low-slung on the Trek. Add the Montrose Pro to the mix, with 24mm wide tires, and what was once thought of as impossible is now a reality. My 5200 is slightly more comfortable.
The Montrose Pro is a fantastic saddle and decently light at around 160 grams. It’s an all-day saddle that, once properly set, keeps me comfortable for hours. I am perfectly pleased with it and can’t recommend it highly enough.
Specialized does it through shop employees with measurements, angles and videos too numerous and complex to get into, they call it their Body Geometry fit (I had one, when I bought my Venge, and it was awesome). Long before that wonderful day and after a few months on my new (to me) 1999 Trek 5200, I went to the local shop complaining of immense pain due to my saddle after a steady increase of miles. Walter quickly measured my sit bones on a handy-dandy board with memory foam on it and handed me a Specialized Romin (143mm) saddle. The old, original saddle was a 155 – no wonder it hurt. The 143mm Romin, with its marvelous contours, just happened to be the exact saddle for me. I even put a second Romin I own on our tandem.
Fi’zi:k does it with an app. Hold your smartphone at your chest and bend over as far as you can… they match you to the proper saddle of their three different types. Not bad, but I’m in between saddles according to the app (or at least I was last I checked). Doesn’t that just figure? I can measure twice in a row and get two different saddles. Fortunately, luck got me where I needed to be previously, anyway.
Bontrager seems to have simplified everything and explained it so anyone from a leisure cyclist to a road racing cyclist can easily see what will likely be the best saddle fit for their riding style. It’s not, after all, rocket science. It’s close, though, once they really start looking into the science and how a saddle will affect a cyclist. Behold, simplicity and the Performance Postures (or as they like to call it in technical terms, “InForm BioDynamic Designs”):
To keep things moving, I’m a Posture 2. I ride an aggressively set up road bike (both of them):
Then they got into the contour of the saddle:
And followed that with the profile:
Without question, especially looking at my Venge up above and how much I love the Romin saddle, I’m a Posture 2 guy, and it makes sense now that this is all laid out above:
Now, will this way of looking at saddles tick everyone’s boxes and make them comfortable on a Bontrager saddle? I would land somewhere between “doubtful” and “not a freaking chance” – saddle choice is too personal and complex. That said, for me, it works and it makes sense.
Where this gets a little sticky is that saddle on my Trek, a Selle Italia. It’s basically a flat saddle with a minute curve to it. It’s a full carbon fiber saddle that weighs in at a miniscule 110 grams (Bontrager makes a 64 gram saddle, basically the weight of two plastic bottle cages, if you’re interested):
Contrast that with the saddle on my Venge (or one like it) on the Right and a Bontrager Montrose on the Left:
My friends, I may ride low but I am not flexible. I can barely touch my toes (though barely does count!). That little bit of contour in the saddle helps me rotate my hips forward so I can ride comfortably in the drops and on the hoods. I do have to make sure to bend my arms sufficiently when I ride with my hands on the bar top, though. Sitting upright isn’t comfortable on a contoured saddle like the two above – at least not the way I set mine up, with a 3° drop from back to front (measured the full length of the saddle).
People can get sucked into the wrong saddle pretty easy. Whether they’re in it for the weight, or just trying to get a cool-looking saddle… Folks, some saddles just fit some butts better than others. The more information you’re armed with, though, the better equipped you’ll be to help a knowledgeable person at a shop help you into the proper saddle… or try luck. It did work for me.
The Noob’s Guide to Cycling: The Bicycle Saddle – Everything You Need to Know to Fit Yours By Feel… Or At Least Enough to Be Dangerous.
My friends, cycling saddles are the
fourth fifth greatest controversial cycling topic next to whether or not clipless pedals (that’s “clip in” pedals) are even necessary (they’re the greatest invention in the history of the bicycle after the safety bicycle… and maybe derailleurs), tire pressure, integrated brake/shifter levers on road bikes (the second greatest invention in cycling history after the safety bicycle… and maybe derailleurs), and disc brakes. We won’t even get into shocks on mountain bikes, which were thought of as a gimmick by most purists when first introduced.
To go through every single saddle type would take just shy of forever and would probably require a book, so we should probably just skip to the good stuff – the basics, because with a few simple principles, you can set a lot of different saddles to your liking. The impetus to this post was a post I read the other day in which a friend was complaining about classic wide saddle issues; hamstrings (back of legs) hurting, hip pain, inner thigh pain, etc.. He wrote in the post that he’d picked up a Specialized Power saddle and that he hated it… Well, my friends, that’s one of the best saddles made (I bought one for my wife), so that someone hated it made me look a little closer at why. The only thing that made sense is that maybe he hadn’t offset the saddle the required 2.5cm. See, that’s a snub-nosed saddle, so if you install it like a normal saddle, measuring from the nose to the center of the handlebar, you’re going to have your saddle 2.5cm too close to the handlebar and you’ll likely then ride too far back on the saddle – on the wider part of the wings which will hurt the inside of your thighs, hips, and eventually the hamstrings. I only know this because I had a wide saddle on my Trek when I first brought it home, and that’s exactly how the wide saddle hurt me.
Next, let’s look at my wife’s issue. She had her bike fitted (again) recently and had her saddle in the perfect position. Then I upgraded the crank on her, which required a new, wider bottom bracket. Her legs are now 3/4’s of an inch wider each side of the crank so her saddle had to be lowered a couple of millimeters to accommodate the change. In that case, it’s just a matter of lowering the saddle a millimeter at a time until she’s happy.
So, to get to it, most saddle manufacturers won’t make a saddle to hurt people. Their goal is to get as many butts on their device as is possible. For most saddles, it’s just a matter of getting the thing in the right place.
What kind of cyclist are you? The type of cyclist you are will help you figure out what kind of saddle you want to ride, flat, in between, or curved. I’ve got one of each on my race and rain bikes:
While the fit on each saddle is a little different, the method I used for dialing any saddle in is the same: Measurements first, then dial it in by feel. My measurements are, for a standard saddle, 22-1/2″ to 22-3/4″ from the center of the handlebar to the nose of the saddle. So if I was using a Specialized Power saddle, I’d add 2.5 cm to that distance, or exactly 15/16″ (I’d round it to an inch and adjust if necessary). That position, the fore and aft, of the saddle, has to do with how your feet end up over the pedals. Too far back or forward and you lose leverage on the pedals. After that, the saddle height. Mine is, from the top of the pedal with the crank arm low, in line with the seat tube, 36-3/8″ on the nose. Any higher and the pain on my ass and hips (and nether regions) is excruciating. Much lower and I bounce when I pedal and the loss of power from a low saddle is intolerable (same with too far forward, but let’s not get too lost in the weeds).
So I know my measurements and I know where my saddles need to be within a quarter of an inch… the question is, what feels good and what hurts.
For the flatter saddles, like my first example up there, the Selle Italia on the Trek, even with that substantial drop from the saddle to the handlebar, I want that sucker pretty level (it’s actually 1° nose down) or it won’t cradle me right. I end up with too much pressure up front, where pressure simply isn’t acceptable, or I want to slide up to the nose of the saddle if the nose is too low. To complicate matters, I want to be comfortable in three positions; with my hands on the bar top, on the hoods, and in the drops.
For my Specialized Romin, the second saddle, that style is a little trickier to get right, but if you’re less flexible, the saddle will allow you to ride a lot lower than a normal flat saddle will:
Now, for the wavy saddle, I set mine with a 3°, almost 4° nose down. The front half of the saddle isn’t quite level, but it fits perfectly for how I ride:
Again, the idea is for the saddle to cradle me, so if I drop the nose any more than where it’s at, I feel like I’m sliding to the front of the saddle. If I raise the nose, it digs into places that don’t like being dug into…
This leads in to how I set my saddle to get it right. Again, I go with the measurements first. I set the saddle at 36-3/8″ on the nose, then measure from the handlebar to the nose of the saddle. It used to be 22-1/2″ but by a fluke I moved the Trek’s saddle back to 22-3/4″ to get the proper angle of my foot and knee over the spindle (the front of the knee and the end of the crank arm should be plumb to the ground, measured with a 4′ level) and I loved it – I even changed the Venge, just to see if I liked it as much on that bike – I did, but not quite as much, so I split the difference and that’s got me very happy. Then, I check the height again, crank arm low, in line with the seat tube, and measure up the middle of the seat tube to the seat top: 36-3/8″.
Then, with the bike on a trainer, I ride it for ten minutes with my hands on the hoods, so I can get a feel for where my butt is and where it naturally likes to hang out. Then I switch to the drops for ten minutes. Am I sliding to the front of the saddle? If so, I adjust the nose up. Am I feeling too much pressure where I don’t want to feel pressure? Lower the nose a skoche. Then I check riding with my hands on the hoods, though by the time I get saddle dialed in for the hoods and the drops, I’ve never had the bar top come up wrong (but I rarely ride with my hands up there anyway).
After all of that, it’s time for a road test. 18 miles minimum, but I like 25.
This is where I find my saddle height issues. It’s often just a touch too high (dependent on saddle and chamois padding). Over a 20 or 25 mile ride, the sides of my thighs, where the hips come together with the sit bones, if my saddle is too high, I’ll get some pretty intense pain on the sides. If I’ve got the saddle height right, it’s just going to feel like butter. If not, if there’s pain on the sides on the sit bones, I lower the saddle 1mm at a time until I feel “right”. The same goes for the angle of the saddle. A road test will reveal if the saddle is really dialed in to the right level, switching between the hoods and drops. If I feel any pressure when I switch to the drops from the hoods, I lower the saddle nose by 1mm at a time until I can seemlessly go from hoods to drops without pain. This is how I know I’ve got my saddle dialed in.
With the flatter saddle, the process is pretty close to the same, I just have to pay better attention because that happy zone where my butt likes to sit is much smaller.
In the end, to recap, the most important pieces of information I can keep on my bikes are my measurements. 36-3/8″ saddle height, 22-1/2″ to 22-3/4″ from the center of the handlebar to the tip of a standard saddle (I measure any saddle I try to make sure there’s no deviation – if there is, I adjust from there and check my knee/crank arm for plumb with a level). For a curvy saddle, I’m typically 3 to 4° nose down. For a flatter saddle, just 0.5 to 1° nose down. With those numbers, I can get any saddle close. From there, it’s just a tweak here and a tweak there.
One final note that I should have added at the beginning; everything I know about cycling, everything that’s technically correct, anyway, began with getting my bike fit to me by a professional. Everything.
Cycling sacrilege is right! But let me go back a bit, to bring this home correctly. You know me, I don’t do much half-assed…
Five months ago, a friend gave me a Selle Italia carbon saddle. It’s ridiculously, outrageously light. It also required a special saddle collar to fit on my Venge so I tried it on my Trek first, just to see what I thought until the proper collar I ordered for the Venge came in. The saddle was magic on the Trek. It was so perfect, I almost cancelled the collar and left the saddle on the Trek. But I had to try it on the Venge. I had to. After all, an ultra-light saddle would perfectly round out that spectacular bike (it also took the bike from the high 15 pound range to the mid-15’s).
Well, a month(ish) into that experiment and I didn’t like the result. Most of my problems are likely due to fit, but I’ve adjusted the saddles and I just can’t quite get to the bottom of the issue… if you know what I mean. The saddle on my 5200 was spectacular. On the Venge, it was a little closer to “meh”.
Over the last month, as I’ve started ramping up the miles, I just couldn’t get the Selle Italia saddle to a position I liked as much as I had on the Trek. I hemmed and hawed for at least two weeks about switching them back. Then, with my second big tour of the year looming, I decided to switch them back – against every weight weenie fiber in my body. Unfortunately, a flared up hip made the decision a little easier. After changes are made, sometimes it takes a good bit of miles to really evaluate the change. I really started feeling the pain last week, maybe two weeks ago, butt in hindsight only. With two hundred mile days in a row looming, I had to change something before that sore hip became an actual injury.
And just like that…
My first ride after having swapped saddles was a big one – go big or go home (or both in this case). Typically, it’s
a little stupid not adviseable to swap out a saddle and head out for a big mile ride, but if you’ve read this blog for very long, you know me; overconfident in my mechanical abilities, and often lucky enough to be right (or at least close enough for government work).
Last week, my Garmin died toward the end of a 65 mile ride so I had my buddy, Chuck add me in to his for Strava. He finished that ride with 71 miles, though, so I had some penance miles to make up. Well, I got four of those done on Tuesday night but I still had two left, so I decided to make them up checking my saddle position yesterday morning before our ride. It felt great so I rolled with it.
Fourteen miles into the real ride and I knew I’d missed the mark, but just barely. At our first stop, because I was smart enough to bring an Allen wrench with me, I lowered the saddle by a millimeter. And there it stayed for the remaining 64 miles. Amazingly, the saddle felt like butter – much better than it did on the Venge. I have no idea what gives, but I really don’t care at this point. My hip soreness even let up after 20 miles.
My 1999 Trek 5200 is now down to the low 18 pound range and My Venge is still technically a 15 pound bike – and both bikes are now wildly comfortable. I made the light bike heavier and the heavier bike lighter…
Sometimes you have to go to any length for things to work out right in the universe – or buttiverse as it is in this case. My heinie is happier… and I’ll stop there, before going over the line – or down the crack. In this case, even though that badass (there I go again) Selle Italia saddle belongs on the race bike, it just doesn’t work. No sense in trying to stick with it till I was injured.
And incidentally, with the Specialized Romin saddle back on the Venge, the good bike is vastly more comfortable as well. I did two more penance miles on the Venge to make sure I’d gotten that one right as well. I can live with an extra 110 grams (a quarter-pound) for a peppier posterior.
Numbers, contrary to popular mathematical belief, can lie when it comes to cycling and saddle position. Numbers are a great start, but sooner or later you’re going to want to go by feel… And I’ve never subscribed to the notion of “level it and forget it”.
When you’ve got some padding on a saddle, you have a little room for error in the setup when you’re riding 30-40 miles.
Take away most of that padding and jump that mileage up by double or even triple, you better have that saddle right or you’ll be hating life. And your bike. And your shorts. And your saddle.
Now, keep the mileage up and cut the padding in half again. One look at that saddle and you wonder if two pairs of shorts would work…
No two saddles are alike… unless they really are alike. Erm… I’ve got two Specialized Romin saddles, one on the Venge and one on the tandem. I set them both by numbers, then feel. By chance, I had them set side by side one day in the bike room. A simple glance and I noticed they’re on exactly the same plane. I set the saddles next to each other and stepped back for a closer look; same plane.
Over a hundred miles (or 50 on the tandem), the heinie don’t lie.
So, I thought I might take a moment to share with you, my friends, my unscientific method for dialing in a new saddle.
First, as the process goes, the less padding, the better – you get a lot more feedback.
I like to start on a trainer with a new saddle. I’ll be in the saddle most, if not all, of the time so it helps to feel what’s going on. For the new Selle, I matched the tilt from the old saddle after setting the fore/aft. Then I set the height (36-3/8″, to be exact). Then I climbed on with the intention of giving it 45 minutes.
I lasted five. Maybe. I could feel my hips rocking a little bit. Hips rocking means the saddle is too high. I don’t know how that was possible, though. 36-3/8″ should have been dead nu… Um, phrasing. I lowered it a millimeter. The saddle could be a little farther back than the old saddle was, that would require the saddle to be a shade lower…
Another five minutes. I lowered it again. Just a millimeter. Another 20 minutes.
I could feel pressure from the nose of the saddle that kept me from wanting to ride in the drops. It wasn’t outrageously uncomfortable, just a little nag. I lowered the nose a quarter-turn on the front bolt.
And there the saddle stayed for more than a week. I thought I was done. The saddle felt okay, about as good as you’d expect from just one millimeter of padding (not much).
I’ve worn, over the last week, every pair of heavily padded bibs I own and took a few spins on medium padded bibs to make sure the saddle is where I want to it be. Last night, I’m about ten minutes into my ride and something just wasn’t right. The fore/aft position of the saddle was perfect, I’d already lowered the saddle a couple of millimeters so that wasn’t it… I could simply sense something was a little off, a little pressure where there shouldn’t be pressure in front of the sit bones. This calls for a systematic “shotgun” approach. I had a sneaky suspicion I just needed to lower the nose a pinch… I backed out the rear mounting bolt an eighth of a turn and tightened the front bolt the same amount and climbed aboard.
And the angels sang.
Once the pressure was off… um, a very delicate area that doesn’t much like pressure, and the saddle felt like a $400+ saddle should feel like. It’s still stiff, but I wasn’t thinking much about where my butt was on the saddle as I finished my ride, either.
This is why I love breaking a new saddle in on the trainer. Outdoors there are too many distractions and variables. Bumps, rough pavement, in the saddle, out of the saddle… up a hill, down a hill. Accelerate, decelerate, headwind, tailwind, crosswind, traffic, pedestrians… On a trainer, it’s just my butt and that saddle for 45 minutes. I get a lot of good feedback when all I have to distract me is a movie I’ve already seen five times.
And that’s about the done of that. I think. Maybe.