Today’s stationary trainer experience relies on such an octopus of ‘ware, hard and soft, that it is difficult to know where to direct your critical finger for either praise or blame. Is your firmware firm? Apps de-bugged? How does your dongle dangle? Operating equipment like this is about more than simply owning an object—it is a relationship, between, of course, yourself and a small host of chat-room CSRs and the authors of help forum discussion threads, but also between you and your aging Apple technology and HR monitors. Just to say, there are a lot of people in the room.

Spinning the heck out of a Computrainer for the past 18 years, my wife and I have grown used to its simplicity. Or maybe our well-grooved habit creates the appearance of simplicity. Either way, my recent long term relationship with a Kickr introduced me to a sleeker, more personalized world of indoor suffering.

The Kickr itself is a real looker, about as elegant as a trainer can get, requiring only a single cord and with lines so clean that even I could sketch them. And because I have to live indoors with my trainer, dealing with its guilty looks as I sneak by the guest room where it lives all winter, looks matter. Where our Computrainer requires a minimum of five cords to operate and looks like the time machine in Primer, like some project you never quite put away, the Kickr looks self-contained and intentional in your home. And wherever you place it, it will probably stay there; though it has legs that fold, the Kickr’s heft—which is also a sign of its solid construction—makes it unlikely you will be sliding it under your Eames chair after every use.

The folks at Wahoo assert that a Kickr can be assembled in 90 seconds, and, depending on your wheel-change karma, that is true, but assembly is only the beginning of the process. Questions await you: What apps are refined enough to run this thing well? Even finding them on the app store is not without its complications. How do you keep your apps talking to your device of choice?

People like to think of today’s app-based interfaces as “intuitive,” but I am beginning to see this word as a euphemism for “you’re on your own; figure it out.” And, though my experience is my own, I had a lot to figure out. Most of my issues were related to a minor, but persistent refusal of the Segments app, for importing Strava rides, to actually control the resistance I experienced on the bike. With the help of an extremely efficient and responsive Wahoo CSR, this issue was fixed…until the next time I tried to ride. I found myself forced to re-install the app nearly every time I rode. In my experience, then, this 90 second set-up turned into something of a continuous tinkering.

Once connected, the Segments app is more or less very cool. I suggest importing long private segments that you create yourself because, at least where I ride, most segments tend to be less than a mile. I enjoyed this option quite a bit, and the Segment app really lets you feel like you are rehearsing for your next PR assault. As a result, I found myself gravitating toward this one app and spending less time customizing or downloading workouts calibrated for specific goals, as is possible, for example, with Wahoo Fitness.

During your workout, the Kickr is dreamy in the consistency of its resistance and especially in its quiet. The Computrainer creates enough noise that my workout soundtrack or podcast has to be played loudly enough that I worry about my hearing. But the Kickr is much less imposing on your home environment here, and everyone in my house who was not riding my bike when I was, appreciated that greatly. Also missing with the Kickr, is the wear and tear on the bike itself created by the Computrainer like scratches on your quick-release or worn rear tires. Don’t get me wrong: I love my CT, and I’m glad I have it; I just regret having to end my Kickr relationship just when we were starting to understand each other.