Bruce Davis of Hazard's Cyclesport

Trying to ride a bike that’s not properly fitted is a bit like listening to someone play an out-of-tune violin. In both instances, pain ensues. I learned this the hard way. In recent months I fussed and fidgeted with my ancient (but form-fitted) road bike, changing saddles, seat posts, and cleated bike shoes, all in short order. In the process, I heedlessly messed up a carefully calibrated ecosystem of ergonomic geometry. Before long, the constellation of muscles around my right hip and hamstring became an aching ball of chronic pain. Adding a dash of humiliation to this excruciation, people twice my age — and three times my body mass — were now passing me by without breaking a sweat (not that I’m the least bit competitive). I sought to re-adjust my cleats. What was bad just got worse. A ferocious charley horse attacked my left calf and wouldn’t let ago. As a weekend road warrior and hard-core bicycle commuter, this approximated an existential crisis in the first degree. I was a gimp.