Can you feel it? That pressure to whip out the smartphone for the fifth time on the Saturday ride to document your humorously childish store-stop candy selection? Or to humblebrag your finish at the Tuesday Nighter? Or maybe just to rep your club? #WeOutHere, right?

As my involvement with cycling deepens, so too does an awareness of the unceasing sharing of any situation that might bolster the social proof of one’s belonging to the cycling community (or maybe “scene” is a more appropriate word here), especially roadies. On weekend mornings, we hop on multi-thousand dollar bikes wearing hundreds of dollars worth of carefully curated clothing, often displaying affiliation with a team or brand. The people with whom we meet closely match us in education, income, preferences and ethnicity. Off we go into the countryside, each equipped with a smartphone capable of capturing and sharing one’s own narrative interpretation of the experience. There’s nothing wrong with this per se, but it sometimes feels like the ride has become almost secondary to the production of likes and follows.

To me, frequent brand mentions are the most suspect. When was it decided that providing free advertising for brands of interest was an aspirational behavior? Do I need to shout out to the manufacturer of my gels, shoes, bike, etc., after each use? Actually, this has been going on for a long time in one form or another, but aren’t we moderns more self aware than that in 2021? What if I want to go to the bike shop or have a coffee without spewing @s? “Want to” isn’t even the issue. Can I resist the urge to do so or has my iPhone completely hijacked my brain?

The life and career success of those I sometimes meet on group rides is amazing. Degrees from top schools and high-status professions are common. I recall listening to two acquaintances deliberate about WWII politics for the duration of a long group ride and, often, the jokes go right over my witless head. Another riding friend will soon be off to MIT to teach mathematics. Shouldn’t, then, our sharing lean more toward the realm of ideas? Perhaps the insights gleaned from overcoming adversity on the bike, or the beautiful scenes through which we glide? I do see some of this but, even then, it’s often marred with declarations of product allegiance.

As a previously avid runner, putting on my shoes and heading out for a “little journey”, as I often thought of it, along my favorite routes was a joy. There was simplicity in this and an opportunity to be with my thoughts. The iPhone stayed home, so natural beauty or interesting cityscapes seen along the way were transient pleasures only to be revisited in memory.

Now in the cycling world, I find myself scrolling endlessly, looking at products I can’t afford, experiencing FOMO about rides and events, and an inadequacy about racing fitness I can never achieve. The prevailing narrative of running-Instagram seems to be “isn’t this great?!”, while cycling channels communicate “aren’t I great?!” and “buy this thing!”. It can be crushing when approached with the wrong mindset.

Admittedly, much of what I see is still quite motivating. On days that I’m not quite feeling the vibe of spending hours in service of my two wheeled machine, these posts provide enough inspiration to get me out the door (or on the trainer). If they’re doing it, I can too, right? Social media is also one of the best ways to discover group rides, events, places of interest, etc. — all the things that keep riding exciting.

Cycling also seems to attract a grittier and more competitive crowd. Not that runners aren’t a tough bunch, but bikes, by their nature, are extremely efficient machines. Achieving high fitness is impossible without a huge time commitment. Putting up with the long hours of training, financial burden, injury, and self-imposed suffering takes a special kind of person. In enduring such things, I think a certain pride develops, a feeling of having reaped a reward and, with that, the desire to show it off.

I don’t recall being frequently honked at, given the finger, singled out by police and politicians, misunderstood by anyone operating a motorized vehicle, or hated on in Twitter/FB comments as a runner (except for bros shaming runner bodies), but all these things are a matter of course to the devoted cyclist. Putting up with it all engenders a sense of camaraderie in this niche community that strengthens the desire to share and signal one’s belonging.

And, if I’m honest, many of these over-sharers are pretty darn impressive people. High level amateurs put in what almost amounts to a second full-time job, while also maintaining successful careers and family lives. The completeness of their involvement in the sport is inspiring. Brands and businesses I follow are both the nodes around which the cycling community congregates and success stories in this incredibly difficult business.

Of course, we can’t forget racing. Bicycle races are part athletic achievement and part performance art. Managing one’s fitness, equipment and team, and having it all come together on race day is an achievement that deserves to be shared. The brands and businesses that help make that achievement possible, in so doing, earn the admiration (or contempt) of their customers.

So, are cyclists vapid? It often feels that way but, despite my social media fatigue, I don’t think so. While the posts in my feed often feel ostentatious, the truth is that these people ARE doing something awesome and I AM missing out. This fringe, dangerous, beautiful sport needs to look as cool and rewarding as possible if it’s to survive in the US, and every small brand, team or lone wolf destroyer of pack sprints should continue to generate as much admiration and desire in the cycling masses as they possibly can. We need you, oh #break40 crit racer, oh #bikepacking adventurer, oh “master’s elite” gravel grinder. Feel no shame, and post your experiences in the saddle whenever the muse strikes.