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Remember Alibi.com, that comedy where Philippe Lacheau runs a company that invents fake pretexts to cover other people’s lies… Well, it seems some cyclists have found a way to adapt the concept to the Lycra world: welcome to the era of the Strava Jockey, the stand-in rider who pedals for you while you sip a cappuccino on a terrace.
Text: Jeff Tatard, Photos: AI, 3bikes.fr
Yes, yes, you read that right. While you look for an excuse not to go out in the rain, a guy on the other side of the world hops on his indoor trainer, puts on his heart-rate strap and… pedals for you. All recorded on your Strava account. The activity proudly appears: “Tempo ride – 78 km – 31.8 km/h average – feeling great”. And you collect the kudos as if nothing had happened.
In the old days, cyclists cheated with a motor in the frame or a little shortcut on the climb. Today, they delegate the sweat altogether. Sport becomes an outsourced performance — a kind of calf outsourcing. You no longer optimise your training, you subcontract your effort.
And on Leboncoin, apparently, you can find offers: “Strava jockey – smooth cadence, delivered within 24h – sliding scale per kilometre”. You can already imagine the dialogue:
— “Darling, are you coming home covered in sweat?”
— “No, that’s my jockey, he got hot for me.”
The concept has something fascinating, almost poetic: paying to live your own endurance by proxy. As if you could buy pain, discipline and glory — without ever feeling them. When will the Premium version arrive? “KOM package guaranteed or your money back.”
But let’s be honest: there is a kind of unintentional humour here that only the cycling world could produce. This planet where the smallest climb becomes a digital battlefield, where an 800-metre “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 an unease: that of a sport increasingly measured in pixels, sensors and virtual rankings. Strava, originally, was a friendly logbook. 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 would rather look performing than really sweat.
What if we looked at it the other way round? We found an offer at €25 a ride… so why not make it a source of income? Imagine: every time you hop on the bike, you earn money. €25 per ride, nearly €800 of pocket money a month. In the end, we stop laughing at the “Strava jockey”… we just wonder where to sign.
So yes, let’s laugh about it. It is absurd, grotesque and terribly revealing of our times: one where effort is subcontracted, performance is monetised and sweat becomes an on-demand service. But if some people pay €25 for a stranger to pedal in their place, perhaps the ridicule changes sides. Because at that price, our Sunday rides suddenly take on the flavour of an investment. Imagine: every ride with friends, every col climbed, every KOM narrowly missed… turned into little virtual banknotes. The “jockey” would no longer be the one who cheats, but the one who profits from the system – honestly, by really pedalling.
And if, deep down, the passionate cyclist’s finest revenge was not beating their friends on Strava, but making the lazy pay for their passion? So yes, let’s keep making fun, but let’s keep the idea somewhere in a corner of the brain: perhaps one day, while others are buying their segments, we will be making ours grow.
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