I am a runner, bicycle rider, cross country skier, designer and an unsatisfied user of workout gadgets and services. During the last years we have been equipped with products and digital services aimed at helping us to perform better and exceed our goals. We use Runkeeper and Nike+ to measure and share our results, and we use pulse watches to track a more qualitative training based on heart rate and timing. However, all these products and services are more or less tricky to use during the actual workout. Smartphones are utterly clumsy to use while performing, and if you train in conditions where gloves are needed, don’t even think about it. Pulse watches are slightly smaller and lighter but the screen can be perceived as too small, too cluttered, and the buttons tiny and difficult to press.

A couple of months ago I rode my racing bike between Bormio and Stelvio in the Italian alps. It’s the road from heaven and hell. Going up is a steady climb of 21km. Before I took on the challenge I had no idea if I was going to make it, I am not a seasoned rider which is recommended for this type of adventure. I made it, but I’ll admit that I indeed cried during the last 500m. I was immensely tired, my muscles screamed for mercy and I had to trick myself into pushing it forward. Eventually I reached the top. Incredibly happy. Finally I could relax and enjoy the magnificent view and environment for real, until I realized: I have to go down as well. Going down is the sum of all my fears. Going down is like going to hell. I’ll rather go up for another 100km than going down. Going down means flying like a little pinecone down a devious road, more or less totally out of control. I wish I could brake the whole way down, but the brakes would probably not endure the load. I did the mistake to stop once and touch the tires and wheels after some steady braking and they were sizzling hot. More fear. I understood I had to let go of the braking and get up to speed, try to control it as much as I could. Braking enough before each turn in order not to fall over. Oh boy, was I horrified. I focused so hard on the road in front of me my eyes could have been arthrodesised for all I cared, I would not take my gaze off the road no matter what. Then all of a sudden I hear this shaky whisper in my head: “What if it’s a speed record? Schh, zip it. Not now.” I hush back. A few seconds pass, then it’s there again, a little stronger this time: “What if it’s a speed record? ...What.” I yell, quite distressed. The voice strikes back immediately: “WHAT IF IT’S A SPEED RECORD, YOU MORON!?” Huh? What if it’s a speed record? Oh my God, what if it’s a speed record? I have to know if I am setting a new record here. But wait, that means I have to look at the meter on the handle bar. I have to take my eyes OFF the road. Never. But what if it’s a speed record? Oooh, sweet Lord Byron, I have to look at the meter... Holy crap!

The story contains emotions from a first hand experience, and empathy from others that clearly could be useful in a design project. If it was up to my mother to improve this situation her solution would have been to forbid bikes and lock me in. But I took this story along with the one where I fell hard on my rollerskis when I had to check my pulse watch and fastened with my poles in a fence, and the other one where I was running 30km on a slippery forest trail and stumbling had to check my time every kilometer in order to keep a feasible pace, to my team at Ocean Observations.