Bytager the publication "Strava.com or Alibi.com? When the cyclist becomes his own double agent"
Remember Alibi.com, that comedy where Philippe Lacheau runs a company that invents false pretexts to cover up other people's lies? Well, it seems that some cyclists have found a way to adapt the concept to Lycra sauce: welcome to the era of the Strava Jockey, the substitute rider who pedals in your place while you sip a cappuccino on the terrace.
Text: Jeff Tatard, Photos: IA, 3bikes.fr
Yes, yes, you read that right. While you're looking for an excuse not to go out in the rain, a guy on the other side of the world gets on his home trainer, puts on his cardio and... pedals for you. All recorded on your Strava account. The activity proudly displays: “Tempo ride – 78 km – average 31,8 km/h – great feeling”. And you, you reap the rewards kudos Like nothing ever happened.
In the past, cyclists cheated with a motor plate or a small shortcut on the climb. Today, we outsource the sweat. Sport is becoming an outsourced performance—a sort of outsourcing of the calf. We no longer optimize our training; we outsource our effort.
And on Leboncoin, it seems, we find offers: “Strava jockey – smooth pace, deliverable within 24 hours – decreasing rate per kilometer”. We can already imagine the dialogue:
— “Honey, are you coming home covered in sweat?”
— “No, it’s my jockey, he was hot for me.”
There's something fascinating, almost poetic about the concept: you pay to live vicariously through your own endurance. As if you could buy pain, discipline, and glory—without ever experiencing them. When will the Premium version be available? "KOM package guaranteed or your money back."
But let's be honest: there's a kind of unintentional humor here that only the world of cycling could generate. This planet where the slightest climb becomes a digital battlefield, where an 800-meter "segment" is worth more than inner peace, and where some would rather die (literally) than admit they rode without a heart rate monitor.
Behind the joke, there is still a malaise: that of a sport that is increasingly measured by pixels, sensors and virtual rankings. Strava was originally a logbook. route convivial. Today, it is a stock exchange of sporting vanity, where every watt becomes a social argument. The “jockey” is only the ultimate symptom: that of a generation that prefers to appear efficient rather than actually sweat.
What if we took the subject in reverse? We found an offer at €25 per ride… so why not turn it into a source of income? Imagine: every time you ride your bike, you earn money. €25 per ride, or nearly €800 of pocket money per month. Finally, we no longer make fun of the “Strava jockey”… we just wonder where to sign.
So yes, let's laugh about it. It's absurd, grotesque, and terribly revealing of our era: one where effort is outsourced, performance is monetized, and sweat becomes an on-demand service. But if some people pay €25 for a stranger to pedal for them, perhaps the ridiculousness shifts. Because at that price, our Sunday outings suddenly take on the flavor of an investment. Imagine: every ride with friends, every mountain pass climbed, every KOM narrowly missed... transformed into little virtual bills. The "jockey" would no longer be the one cheating, but the one taking advantage of the system—honestly, by pedaling for real.
What if, in the end, the greatest revenge for a passionate cyclist wasn't beating his friends on Strava, but making the lazy pay for his passion? So yes, let's keep making fun of each other, but let's keep the idea somewhere in the back of our minds: maybe one day, while others are buying their segments, we'll make them pay.
