And now you, a perfectly normal human with normal hobbies, must find them a gift.
The problem is that buying something for a dedicated cyclist is almost impossible. You can never match their setup, their preferences or whatever obscure standard they pretend every rider should know. Even if you ride yourself, unless you’re in the same group, on the same trails, at the same level of obsession, you’ll still miss wildly.
Still, there are a few things that even the most hardcore cyclist won’t hate. And if the planets align, they may even like them. But before we get there, let’s throw some cold water on your feverish instinct to open Google and just buy the first suggestion that pops out. I guarantee you it will be wrong. Very wrong. So, let’s first generalise what not to gift any cycling fanatic.
What you should avoid at any cost
Well, in short, you’re screwed. Cycling is an expensive, highly personalised sport. You can’t just get anything. Well, you can, but no one will ever use it. So, for example, you can’t just buy a random bike part. Mainly because these things are expensive, and also because you need to know their bike setup. Buying anything Christmas-themed will instantly find its way to the trash. It’s pointless, most often very low quality, and we are riding in summer. Why would I wear a Christmas jersey?!
Protection gear is another no-go. Firstly, the protection gear should fit perfectly to be effective. More importantly, there is nothing worth buying under 100 Euros.
Finally, avoid any pointless junk that is cycling-themed or even worse, made from old bike parts. Just no.
So, now that I brought you to the edge of despair, let’s talk about what you can actually buy a cyclist this holiday season.
A new bottle (bidon)
A bidon is the safest gift you can give a cyclist, mostly because it’s a consumable with the lifespan of a houseplant in a smoker’s home. These things age fast. The soft plastic wears out, the nozzle gets chewed by habit, and the inside starts developing flavours that can only be described as “electrolytes of the days long gone”. If your cyclist rides off-road, the situation gets even worse. Muddy MTB rides turn bidons into biological experiments. They return home looking like props from an ’80s swamp monster movie, and no amount of scrubbing can restore a bottle that’s seen horrors. Those get replaced every few months, sometimes weeks, depending on how aggressively they plough through puddles.
A bidon is the safest gift you can give a cyclist. © Profimedia
Even roadies, who pretend they live cleaner lives, rotate their bottles yearly. Plastic absorbs everything. Dust, gels, mould, and even sweat and tears if the wind is at the right angle. Unless they enjoy a delicate bouquet of microplastics, they’ll appreciate a fresh one. The good news is that bidons sit comfortably in the 10-20 euro range. They are cheap, practical, and guaranteed to be used. You can even get a novelty design, as long as it’s season-neutral. Do not buy a Christmas-themed bidon. They will use this thing mainly in summer, and nothing kills a July climb quite like drinking lukewarm water out of Rudolf’s nose.
A merino bandana
A Merino neck warmer is the closest thing cyclists have to a comfort blanket. It works in winter, summer, wind, heat, and even when crying… uh, I meant raining. Merino regulates temperature, keeps sweat under control, dries fast, refuses to smell like you’ve been trying to hide your scent from The Predator, and somehow manages to feel warm when it’s cold and cool when it’s hot. That alone makes it a miracle fabric – or at least the woollen equivalent of a cheat code.
And unlike most cycling accessories, a Merino bandana escapes the bike-specific trap. Cyclists also hike, run, ski, walk the dog, shovel snow, and do all sorts of questionable things outside. A Buff or Zajo neck warmer fits all of that. Even if they already own one, another is always welcome. Sure, merino doesn’t hold smells and is very durable, but it still can’t survive a mud bath on a spring trip to the mountains or the spray you get when riding in the draft on the road during rain.
But the real reason this is a guaranteed win is that cyclists over 35 have an emotional relationship with their neck warmers. After you hit that invisible barrier, you start making noises from your neck that you thought were only comic expressions in animations. Now, they are called “turning your head left”. The years of descending at high speed, dripping wet with sweat, without the trusted merino neck warmer, are precisely what brought me to this point. Since I’m yet to find someone looking passionately forward to bone spurs in the neck, the bandana is now a protective amulet. This fabric insurance policy keeps the cold air away from the place where all adult suffering accumulates.
The best part is that Buff and Zajo offer a safe, respectable choice, with high-quality bandanas priced between 20 and 40 euros. The best thing is that you will look like you actually know what you’re doing.
A free maintenance gift card
Maintenance is the cycling equivalent of a quantum state. The bike must be maintained, the bike is constantly being maintained, yet the bike is somehow always undermaintained. We clean our chains, we lube our pivots, we adjust our derailleurs, and the moment we step back proudly, something starts creaking. Riders talk about maintenance as if they love it, but the truth is simple. Maintenance is time-consuming, and it is not riding, which automatically makes it awful. A free maintenance gift stabilises this entire paradox. It collapses the wave function, replacing it with something every cyclist secretly craves. A proper tune-up from a respectable workshop, done by a mechanic who will not judge them too loudly for whatever horrors they uncover in the drivetrain.
Every bike needs regular cleaning, and some bikes demand more. Usually, riders do the lighter tasks themselves, but once a year, during season prep, the real work begins. That job takes hours. Every bolt gets checked, every cable threatens to snap, every bearing decides it might be the day it quits. This is where your coupon becomes a lifesaver. Instead of wasting their weekend wrestling with a bottom bracket, they can hand the whole problem to someone who owns more tools than you own spoons.
A proper service is not cheap. Depending on where you live, the labour alone can cost anywhere from fifty to seventy euros. That is precisely why this gift works. It saves time, saves money, and saves the rider from confronting the truth about the state of their bike.
A cycling cap they might actually wear
Cycling caps are landmines. Get the wrong one, and you gift them a fabric insult they will bury at the bottom of a drawer. Team caps are the worst offenders. Unless they actively worship that specific team, handing them a pro cap basically says, “I learned nothing about you and I never will.”
The trick is simple. Make it funny. A good cycling cap should feel like a personality test they would willingly fail. Something with a clever print, a mildly ridiculous phrase or a downright absurd design. Go for brands that understand humour without leaning into costume territory. Caps that try too hard end up looking like souvenirs from a petrol station near a forgotten bike race. A funny cap works because cyclists treat their helmets like rent-controlled apartments. They will not give up the space underneath unless the cap brings them joy. And joy, in cycling terms, usually means mild chaos, self-mockery or a design that reminds them they are voluntarily climbing hills for fun.
Choose something light, breathable, and absurd enough to spark a smile. If they wear it even once, you know you succeeded.
A high-end race snack bundle
If you ever make the mistake of asking a cyclist about eating during rides, prepare yourself for a two-hour lecture. Not a conversation. A lecture. You will learn about carb absorption rates, fuelling windows, glucose-to-fructose ratios, the exact number of grams they must consume per hour, and how their entire performance collapses if they mis-time a single bite. By the end, you will know more about mid-ride nutrition than you know about your own diet.
All this obsessive detail would be admirable if high-end fuelling weren’t priced like liquid gold. Maurten, SIS Beta Fuel, Enervit, Torq, Clif, Chimpanzee. Every gel and drink mix looks small and innocent, yet somehow costs as much as a proper meal. Cyclists buy them anyway, then complain about the price, then buy more. It’s a cycle of self-inflicted financial suffering. That is why a premium race-day snack bundle is an excellent gift. Even if it is not their favourite brand, they will use it. No cyclist is picky when they are one climb away from blackout and their soul is trying to exit through their ears. High-end nutrition is always welcome, always needed, and always appreciated because it saves them money and saves them from th
`eir own poor planning.
If you want to reach the next level of gift-giving, stalk their pre-race or pre-ride photos. Cyclists love arranging their snacks like a tactical layout for a military mission. If you see the same brand appear more than once, you have found their preference. Buy that. They will think you understand them on a spiritual level.
Something that has absolutely nothing to do with cycling
Cyclists look like single-purpose organisms, but beneath the layers of Lycra, chain lube, and the crazy spending habits, we are still normal human beings. We have hobbies that do not involve gradients or tyre pressure. Some of us dance. Some of us cook. Some of us read, build things, play instruments or get lost in absurdly specific documentaries. Yes, cycling takes most of our time, money, and attention, but believe it or not, we are more than our hobby.
That is why a non-cycling gift can be a quiet masterpiece. It shows you tried. You didn’t grab the first bike-themed mug you found online. You actually paid attention. You listened. You asked questions. You tried to learn something about the person behind the helmet. Maybe they mentioned dancing, or baking, or gardening, or being into board games. Maybe they have a favourite author. Maybe they love live music. Once you stop viewing them as “the cycling fanatic”, the world opens up.
And that, ultimately, is the real spirit of Secret Santa. Not choosing the most predictable gift, but discovering something small and meaningful about the person you’re gifting. A tiny connection, wrapped in paper. Something thoughtful. Something personal. Something that proves you saw them, not just their bike.