
| Jesse LaLonde celebrates making history as the first singlespeed mountain bike rider to win the Chequamegon 40 in the 25 years the race has been held.
Photo by Tom J. Kelly courtesy of the Chequamegon Fat Tire Festival |
| Singlespeeding not just for the pure of heartby Mark Parman About 10 ten years ago at a Wisconsin Off-Road Series (WORS) race, I saw my first singlespeed racer. At
the time I thought he was an eccentric, maybe crazy. I remember wondering why anyone would want to do that. Mountain bike racing is hard enough without the self-imposed handicap of a single gear. But I would eat those words when five or so years later, a friend, Mike Haag, talked me into doing the Ore-to-Shore Mountain Bike Epic race in the U.P. on a singlespeed. He'd been toying around with one, and I think misery needed company.
So I pulled the shifters and derailleurs off an old Bontrager Race Lite, spun off all the cogs except one, and installed a Campy Nuovo Record rear derailleur as a chain tensioner. It was a low-budget bike, built up from parts lying around the basement. I rode the bike a few times before making the long drive up to Marquette. At the starting line, I remember the race announcer saying the course would be a "bit longer" – 46 miles
instead of 40. I looked over at Mike shaking my head. All those miles on one gear. I'll never make it. Why did I let him talk me into this? At that moment, I thought seriously about letting the air out of my tires. To make a long story short, I was unexpectedly and pleasantly surprised that day. The race was so enjoyable that I haven't raced a mountain bike with gears since, a decision I haven't much thought about
until writing this essay and wondering why I like to ride a single. I still own two off-road bikes with gears and ride them occasionally, particularly my cyclocross bike. But I don't foresee any races with gears in my near future, other than perhaps a cross race. I could see running a one-speed setup for cross as well, though. In the last decade, singlespeed mountain bikes have grown in popularity and acceptance, the fields swelling
in some popular events and one-speeds no longer a novelty on the local trails. At the Chequamegon 40, the singlespeed division is the fastest growing division, with 86 men and seven women completing the long race this year. These numbers don't include the DNFs or those who didn't register as singlespeeds, like race winner Jesse Lalonde and his brother Marko who finished 4th overall, just
a few seconds behind Jesse. The Lalonde brothers obviously don't see a single as a handicap. In fact, their stunning singlespeeed rides at the Midwest's largest race will no doubt bring new respectability to the bike and draw even more converts. Clearly, singlespeeds are the in-thing these days for a variety of reasons. It's no longer a punk rock statement. For years, Bianchi has had singlespeed bikes in its lineup (the C.U.S.S., the P.U.S.S., the
S.A.S.S.), but now most major manufacturers offer singles. These companies market their bikes in magazines, increasing exposure, interest and demand. I've heard more than one rider say that singlespeeds are "pure," "untainted" (by gears), "perfect" (all you need is one) or "simple." The problem with being untainted and pure is it makes the act of singlespeeding sound like some religious experience only for the devout and faithful. That leaves anyone who uses gears as
tainted, fallen and unrighteous. Riding a single then becomes more an act of separating oneself from the unpure, which is always a dangerous proposition, especially since riding a bicycle is supposed to be fun, not something to crusade for. Singlespeeds are indeed simpler because they have fewer moving parts. For some, the simplicity is a rejection of the complexity of everyday technology. Life is complicated, a whirlwind of planned
obsolescence, and the singlespeed appeals to a desire to pare things down. Or the simplicity could be a longing for the good old days when we were kids and all we had were one-speed bicycles. Simple can also mean reliable. A singlespeed, and often a rigid bike, tends to be a more reliable rig, unfazed by mud and ice and accumulating miles. In theory, they should have fewer break downs and require less
maintenance than say a dual-suspension 27-speed. Although singlespeeds come in many price points, they tend to be affordable. As it turns out, $600 to $700 is more than enough machine to complete in and win any race. According to Tom Held on his Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel "Off the Couch" blog, after Lalonde won the Chequamegon 40, Gary Fisher congratulated him for an amazing ride, then told him he was making it hard for his company to sell geared bikes. I can see Fisher's point.
In fact, many riders don't even need to go out and buy a bike right away since they can most likely build one with parts at hand – that old frame and wheels cobwebbed in the corner and maybe a chain tensioner from a company like Surly. That said, it is nice to own a bike with sliding rear dropouts or an eccentric bottom bracket to tension the chain. I've replaced my high-tech Campy chain tensioner on my old Bontrager with an eccentric White
Industries rear hub that takes up the chain slack via the off-center axle. Still, one can build a singlespeed with old and odd parts and get a feel for the ride and decide whether or not singlespeeding is for them. Singlespeeds do require a certain state of mind because they're more demanding of a rider. Singlespeeders need more strength and drive to finish a long race. On any given ride, the gear will be both too tall and too
short. Some hills will force dismounts and some flats and downhills will force a single rider to spin like an egg beater. The chosen gear is rarely the perfect one, but the challenge of making it work stokes some riders. In the end, however, I think the reasons to ride a single are personal. I like the way my rigid singles ride. I feel more connected to the trail – every rock and stick, every climb and descent. The ride is precise and
crisp. Others would see it as unforgiving and harsh. But those people probably ride bikes with gears and plush suspension. We should all ride what we want to ride and what feels comfortable. If that's what keeps us riding, why not? Mark Parman lives in Wausau, Wisconsin, where he teaches English and journalism at the University of Wisconsin-Marathon County. He bought his first serious bike, a Raleigh Competition, in 1982 and hasn't stopped riding since. |