The First Post

An end to the beginning

Posted on Tue 17 November 2020

First posts are notoriously hard to compose.

I am not entirely sure what I want from this website; nor am I sure of what this website wants of me. It sounds very philosophical, but the prospect of a first post can make you feel very philosophical.

I have toyed with the concept of a blog, or some sort of platform since I began cycling properly in about 2018.

So, I suppose this is it.

Prior to 2018, I had always been a runner. I started running over a decade ago to combat the teenage angst and anxiety that came with doing a-levels and applying for university. I always found identifying as a runner easy: you put on some trainers, moved faster than a walk, and you are considered a runner. Identifying as a cyclist was (and is), to my mind, much harder - and it came as a massive shock to me. What bike I rode, what clothes I wore, how fast I cycled, what distances I chose to cover all became implicitly tied to my status as a cyclist. Riding a bike didn't make you a cyclist - it made you a hobbyist.

The more I explored the cycling world, the more I noticed niches. The roadies in their seal-skin lycra; the mud-clad mtb-ers in their ancient baggies showing off their war wounds; the bike-packers in flannels and sporting beards and faded frame bags; the triathletes maxing out efforts; the wise and bedraggled audax-ers; the weekend warriors with carbon framed TT-bikes; the commuters who didn't see the appeal of any of it. The frustration of it stemmed from a complete inability to fit in anywhere neatly - and the deeper I looked into these niches the less diversity I found. If I didn't feel comfortable, surely there were lots of others who felt the same way?

Perhaps part of my discomfort came from recognising that I didn't know another woman who cycled. Not one. Not even a famous one. I didn't see women cycling on any of my rides, and rarely ever saw a female over the age of about 8 on a bike whilst out and about. None of my friends or family rode, so much of what I learnt had just been from muddling through and begging my partner for help when I couldn't figure something out. Initially, the lack of reflection in my experiences made it more difficult to reconcile my own feelings and achievements to that of a 'cyclist', but gradually the lack of representation became jarring and excluding. If you don't see people who look like you, it becomes difficult to ever see yourself included.

I have joined some club rides and have ridden with others. But I find it difficult to find a group that suits my needs and timetable, and most importantly, one that has enough women in it to make me feel fully comfortable. In some ways it has been a lonely existence, but in others, it has been the most liberating of experiences. I find cycling alone enjoyable, and for the most part find my own company to provide a sort of meditative space and feel that any achievement can be maximised when I know that I completed it alone.

I started my Instagram page during the first UK national lockdown in June 2020 - more as a reason to get rid of as many of my cycling photos as possible (I had around 5,000 or something insane). It quickly, and organically, became a place to start talking about some of the things I had noticed on entering the cycling industry as an adult - and within a few posts, I realised that I had much more to say than the character count would allow. I also began to uncover a lot more than people posting pictures of themselves in expensive lycra - instead, a whole network of individuals working tirelessly to disrupt the traditional narrative the cycling industry has cultivated and carve out a more inclusive and welcoming space.

It is this space that I hope to expand and grow within. I have a lot of ideas, and a lot of things that I want to say. It is my hope that this the platform to say those things, regardless of whether anyone reads them or not.