What does the layman observe when he sees a cyclist in the wild? While we do our utmost to Look Fantastic, in our own eyes and minds at least, outside observers may as well be witnessing little green aliens who’ve just stepped off their spacecraft and are heading to their very first fancy dress/drag party on this weird and wonderful planet called Earth. We go to great lengths to carefully match our kit, keep our shoes clean, make sure we are smooth and hairless, tanned, toned and terrific. We check the mirror as we’re leaving the house and see Merckx or De Vlaeminck looking back at us, hair slicked back and perfect sideburns. We see the brown skin and lean, lithe body of Contador or Nibali. Others may be greeted with a reflected visage of a Thor, Tommeke or Spartacus if more on the ‘Classics’ scale of the cyclist’s BMI. We see greatness, a fine example of athleticism and presentation, bound to turn heads and elicit breathless epithets as we glide easily by.
What the man in the street sees is a twat. And he probably has a point.
You’re out for lunch or coffee and witness a bunch of podgy, balding, pale middle-aged men ride up, awkwardly dismount then stand in the coffee queue while dripping sweat, smelling like a deceased polecat and talking loudly about how they “got spat out the ass” or “took a huge pull until I blew”. Your first reaction would probably be to grab your children, or anyone’s children, by the arm and quickly vacate the premises, protecting their eyes and ears from the freaks in tights and ballet shoes standing in their own puddle, oblivious to the small piece of snot perched on their crusted, bristly upper lip. The poor student behind the counter notices it though, and does his best to stifle a dry retch as he takes the Amex card from the increasingly crimson-faced road warrior. The clip-clop of his ridiculous yellow, red and silver shoes resonates on the tile floor, now glistening with salty accountant discharge, filling the remaining patrons with hope that there may be a fall coming… not bad enough that said patrons may have to actually help the stricken fellow who appears to work for SkyTV, but just enough so that there’s some major bruising to the ego of the whiffy real estate agent who apparently has recently returned from a trip to Kazhakstan.
This may all seem far-fetched, but it’s how myself and other Cyclists are perceived every day, from whichever side of the fence one may be positioned. No matter how good a Cyclist looks, or thinks they look, we still come off as tossers by the very nature of our sport’s equipment and apparel requirements. But try telling your 45 year old colleagues that it’s all for performance and you’ll be rightly met with a comment of the ilk of “what, are ya racing the farkin Tooer dee Fraaance or sumfin, are ya?” Once again, they may have a point.
Why can’t a serious cyclist wear less revealing and body-hugging attire, even if not racing? Why not a pair of shoes in which we can walk like a normal person, rather than a duck with a gammy leg, if we know we’ll be making a coffee stop before and probably after the ride? Do we really need to be pushing our spuds to the side of the plate and adjusting ourselves in full view of the Sunday brunch crowd who only want a sausage in their mixed grill, not in their faces? Why can’t we just be more normal?
Because it doesn’t make us feel Pro or remotely Fantastic, that’s why. It doesn’t make us feel like we are Cyclists. The same reasons weekend rugby players don’t wear their jeans and hoodies onto the pitch, even if that’s their uniform off it. But face the truth… we are average men, with average talents and average ambitions (if any), despite the possibility that your talents and ambitions are at a level above most of your other average cronies. We can, and should, do our best to look good when we ride our bicycles. But remember, no matter how good we think we look, we don’t. Especially in cafes and pubs.
Here’s my tips for a successful coffee/beer ride with minimum twat factor:
1. Go for a ride.
2. Don’t dismount anywhere, ever.
3. Go home.
4. Showered? Changed? Now you can go to the pub.
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What we see.
What they see.
Never heard anyone complaining when I walked in with my 'revealing and body-hugging attire', looking 'smooth and hairless, tanned, toned and terrific'... (ehum)
Being a woman has it advantages... ;)
Frank et al, been trying to register (fellow Dutchman living abroad, but when growing up in Limburg managed to do the Keutenberg) but for whatever reason I do not receive a password. Can you webmaster maybe give me a hand here? Thanks!
@brett
Some years ago I was coming to the end of a ride with a mate and we had ridden down to Brighton (UK) to meet up with the VMWs. As we came into Brighton we noticed some signs "Bike Event ->" and when we pulled up at a set of lights were suddenly surrounded by a small fleet Harley's. We looked at each other a bit worried and then this beard in leather looked us up and down and said "Nice bikes, come far?". Turned out before the beard and leather he had been a bit of a cyclist and we had a bit of a banter with a few of them before the lights changed.
@scaler911
You've always done your part to bring a whiff of civilization to Vantucky. And you're still doing it.
@Teocalli
Nice. Last summer during the descent of Mt. Rainier on Day 2 of the V-to-V Cogal, we shared the road with a small fleet of Harleys. (Personally, I love motorcycles in general but find the noise of Harleys to be thoroughly obnoxious.) I enjoyed taking the turns in their midst, and they rode intelligently, giving me an appropriate amount of room.
Had the hill been steeper at that point, they would not have been passing me at all...
Great read. I have been cycling since the mid 80's in various redneck southern town, and the looking like an alien thing has never went away. The hillbilly redneck diesel trucks get their kicks blowing smoke when they pass.
@Teocalli
I had a nearly similar experience here in New England: during a brief end of ride stop, two monstrously huge, tatted-up biker types checked out our machines parked outside then made a beline straight towards me and my equaly lithe riding buddies. Our thoughts of "we're fucked" morphed into a ten minute completely earnest conversation about our bikes and how far we'd ridden.
Granted, monstrously huge, tatted-up biker type describes most males here.
@scaler911
This. And all of this is awesome. I try to look fantastic, but saw a picture of myself recently in kit and I cringed. This made me embarrassed because it was after a good ride. I vowed from that point to improve my look, but it's not exactly a quick process. No matter what we do the others will look askance at us. @velojello has it right. We do what we love, other's opinion doesn't really factor.
When my then maybe 9 year old daughter was visiting in Abu Dhabi and saw various bib-shorts and jerseys hung up to dry, she asked were they mine, and of course I said Yes... why?
I will never quite erase from my mind the look and tone mainly of incredulity but possible a little horror as she said "But they're so small".
It was in my mind even before this article actually, having been issued with my very first team TT skinsuit this week. I thought I knew a racing cut before but...
Will post photos after the race tomorrow if they are decent. Unfortunately we have a guy in our team who is skinny to the pro level. He just came 7th in the UK National Hill Climb. So it doesn't matter how lean I am I will appear obese next to him.