You start with a simple question:
“Should I lower my psi for winter?”
But what you’re really asking is:
“Who am I?”
Welcome to the annual tyre pressure identity crisis.
It’s wet. It’s confusing. And it starts at 6 a.m. in your garage with a track pump and a deep sense of personal inadequacy.
No one agrees on anything
You Google. You scroll forums. You regret everything.
One guy says 90 psi is perfect for all seasons.
Another says if you’re not riding 62.3 psi on 32mm tubeless with a cotton casing, you’re basically a criminal.
Your coach says “experiment and listen to your body.”
Your body says “I have no idea what’s going on but I’d like to stop vibrating please.”
You start second-guessing everything.
Are your roads that rough?
Are your tyres that wide?
Are you that heavy?
Should you be measuring air pressure by bar now? Are you a bar person?
You don’t know anymore. You don’t even know if you like cycling.
You just want to stop hydroplaning and maybe feel joy again.
You become obsessed with psi
It’s all you talk about.
You whisper it at café stops like a secret code.
– “What are you running up front?”
– “Dropped 5 psi this week. Changed my life.”
– “I’m thinking of going tubeless, but emotionally I’m not there yet.”
You stare at your tyres like they’re trying to tell you something.
You squeeze them with your thumb like a 19th-century doctor diagnosing a lung infection.
You have a digital gauge now.
You call it “the truth machine.”
Every ride becomes a test
You try 85 psi.
Too firm. You bounce like a trampoline full of bad decisions.
You try 72.
Too soft. You corner like a greased manatee.
You try “whatever felt right.”
Big mistake. The ride ends with a slow puncture, a minor breakdown, and a long text to your tyre brand asking if they do therapy.
Every bump, every slip, every time your rear feels “a bit squirmy,” you spiral.
Is this me?
Is this the pressure?
Or is this the consequence of years of emotional repression finally manifesting through sidewall flex?
You project onto your tyres
You are not okay.
But instead of addressing that, you ask if your tyres are underperforming.
You mutter things like:
– “I just don’t feel supported right now.”
– “I think I’ve been too inflated lately.”
– “What if I’m the one who’s not gripping anymore?”
Your bike rolls silently beside you. Judging. Softly hissing.
You settle on something. Briefly.
You land on 78 front, 82 rear.
It feels… fine. Not amazing. Not terrible. Just fine.
You ride like someone who has made peace with compromise.
You no longer flinch at every wet leaf.
You start to smile again.
You take corners with cautious hope.
You tell yourself it’s not about the numbers — it’s about the journey.
Then someone on your ride says:
“You’d probably be faster with a few more psi.”
And it starts all over again.
