I’ve heard that people only resort to a single speed when they don’t know how to use their shifters. In my case, I started riding single speed for the same reason that I started telemark skiing: boredom. The mountain biking trails in Indianapolis are about as exciting as the ski hills and I needed something to take the edge off of the repetition. Losing my gears was just the ticket. But in losing the gears, I found much more.
There are dedicated single-speeders who will tie you to a chair and lecture about Zen, the oneness with the bike, and relying on yourself rather than technology. I actually agree with them on some levels, but I can’t use those arguments to convince anyone else to ride a single speed. Instead, I’ve been thinking about why I’ve enjoyed the experience so much. In fact, it’s been so positive that I’ll always have a single speed in the garage, ready to roll at a moment’s notice.
One huge attraction is the simplicity. For me to completely tear apart, clean, service, and rebuild a full-suspension, geared race bike would take the better part of an afternoon. I can do the same thing to my single speed in about an hour. Even something as simple as cleaning and lubing the chain takes less time without the bother of derailleurs, jockey wheels, and cassettes.
Losing all of those parts also makes the bike lighter. I have a steel frame single speed mountain bike that weighs 21 pounds and a roadie that tips the scales at 17. People pay BIG money for that kind of weight with gears, yet I’m enjoying it for less than a grand in both cases. The lower weight makes my singles accelerate faster, climb better, and drive the corners more quickly. I know there are plenty of people who will argue that a difference of 2 or 3 pounds isn’t much, but I’d bet those folks haven’t ridden a single speed lately.
Fewer parts also means fewer breakdowns. I’ve had half-a-dozen bent rear derailleur hangers in the past 15 years . . . but not on a single speed. I’ve also had issues with chain suck, ghost shifting, and chain skip. But, again, not on a single speed. In fact, I’ve never failed to finish a ride or race on a single speed because of a mechanical issue. There just isn’t that much to go wrong with only one set of gears. I can’t say the same for my bikes with the shifty-bits.
However, my favorite part about single speeds is the ride itself. I’m always amazed when I compare my single speed times to my geared times. Yes, I’m faster on a geared bike, but not by as much as I would have thought. Geared riders often shift at the worst possible moments. For instance, when you start up a steep incline and lose speed on a single speed, your only choice is to hammer what you’ve got, preserve all the momentum you can, and get to the top. On a geared bike, the rider downshifts, backing off to let the chain jump to a lower cog, and losing more speed in the process. Spinning up the hill at 70 or 80 RPM is easier, but it can also be slower than mashing up in your only gear.
Understanding that your bike has limitations changes how you ride. When I approach a steep climb on my single speed, I accelerate into it and push all the way through the top to maintain my hard-earned momentum. On a geared bike, I get lazy and know that I can just downshift. In tight trails, I’m more likely to accelerate hard coming out of the turns because I’m always in the right gear to attack – the only gear.
Shifting becomes second nature and the act of changing from one ring to another takes no real effort, but there’s definitely a cost. The average rider will find his gearing on the edge of his consciousness, affecting his tactical decisions. Not pushing over the top of a small rise and through the other side, because his gearing is wrong and the opportunity would be lost in the second it would take to shift. Not accelerating on a short, straight section of trail because he’s already spinning at 90 and shifting would put him in the wrong gear for the upcoming turn. He relies on the shift instead of the effort. But, you get the point.
Riding a single speed has taught me to think ahead and attack when I can, no matter what position my derailleurs happen to be in. If I have an opportunity, I take it. If I have a chance to improve that opportunity with a shift on my geared bike, I will. If not, I won’t. But letting the opportunity pass without responding is the penalty of laziness paid by many who rely too heavily on their gears.
I’ve found that I’m actually faster through some of the tight turns and small climbs on my single speed because I throw myself at those sections completely. I can feel the greater effort that I put into them on the single speed, so I’m not sure why my faster time surprise me. If I put the same effort into them a geared bike, I’m sure the results would be similar. As it is, I’m faster going up smaller hills and in technical sections, and slower on downhills, in the flats, and on long inclines.
Make no mistake, the single speed hurts. If you ride it hard, you will know. The only way to back off is to slow down or stop – there’s no dropping into granny gear and pretending that you’re still working. That’s actually another advantage if you’re looking for a performance improvement. It will teach you to push through the discomfort, and even increase your effort when you’re already burning. Early in the season, there’s nothing quite so painful – or strength building – as clawing up a long climb in the saddle of a single speed. Later in the season, long trail rides on a single speed in varied terrain will boost your endurance.
I’m convinced that the time on the single speed has made me a better rider and helped me think ahead of where I am at the moment. I’m also sure that it’s made me a better racer by improving my tactical thinking, riding habits, and conditioning. It’s exposed some of my weaknesses on the bike and allowed me to overcome them. The trick, then, is to carry the lessons to the geared bikes as well.
I encourage you to include a single speed in your riding routine, whether you’re training for races or just having fun. It will teach you things about yourself and your abilities that will come as a surprise. And, best of all, you’ll have a lot of fun doing it.

Aren’t single speeds for people who don’t want to accept new technology? That’s like insisting that your car have a carb instead of injection, then saying the carb is easier to maintain.
I don’t get it.
That’s one way to look at it, Matt. But there are lots of other ways, too. I guess that it’s not really the argument that it’s easier to maintain (or ride, or race, etc.), but that it’s more fun. At least for me.
And don’t get me wrong. There are days when I’d kill for the lightest carbon fiber, full suspension bike out there!
In my continued interest of learning more about cycling, what I have found is that single speeders (at least Mountain Bikers) are a unique bread. Not that cyclist themselves aren’t but those that ride the single speeds are a little different, in a good way.
http://outside.away.com/outside/culture/200908/single-speed-world-championships-1.html
This will give you a taste of what I mean. A very unique World Championship I must say.
Gotta love unique bread.