Don't be so quick to dismiss the value of simplicity in the face of data-driven training. While it's true that smart trainers provide a wealth of performance metrics, it's possible to become overly reliant on them, losing touch with the fundamentals of cycling.
You bring up the mental aspect of training, which is indeed crucial. However, the idea that immediate feedback is necessary for motivation and pushing limits is debatable. Some riders might find the absence of constant data empowering, allowing them to focus more on their sensations and instincts.
It's also worth considering that not every cyclist thrives on precision and analytics. There's something to be said about the rider who finds value in the raw, unfiltered experience of a ride. Embracing the simplicity of a "dumb" trainer could be a form of rebellion against the hyper-quantified culture of modern cycling.
Adapting to limitations is a skill in itself, and those who succeed with "dumb" trainers are demonstrating resilience and creativity. It's a testament to their understanding of the sport's essence, which goes beyond technology.
However, I'm not suggesting that everyone abandon smart trainers. Instead, let's recognize that there's no one-size-fits-all solution. The beauty of cycling lies in its diversity, and that includes the tools we use to train. So, let's not romanticize simplicity or data-driven training; instead, let's celebrate the coexistence of both worlds.
In the end, it's not about the bike, the trainer, or the data; it's about the rider and their connection to the sport.