She stoops to conquer - The Femule

Way back in 2005 I first saw a young 23 year old female called Victoria Pendalton. She would not have looked out of place on the front page of any glamour magazine or stood next to David Craig on a film set.
However this was no glamour girl, this was a serious ‘butt kicking’ track cyclist clad in Lycra.

I found myself admiring her shapely legs, not for the obvious aesthetic quality, but for the serious horse power that lay beneath the surface.
Underneath an over sized helmet there was another similarly impressive quality, a steely resolve to succeed.
Since that time she has featured in more glamour magazines than those dedicated to cycling and I’m sure Mr Craig is still drumming his fingers in anticipation.
She has also obtained a large number of gongs, bronze, silver and lots of the gold ones.

The thing that has impressed me most about Ms Pendalton is how she has changed women’s cycling. It is something that I applaud wholeheartedly and something that I am very grateful for

For years the fairer sex appeared to be content with propelling their comfortable, aesthetic conveyances over the cobbled streets, or to the other end of the village.
Baskets and panniers would act as a storage facility for both household shopping and retail therapy. Speeds were governed not by ability, but by conversation and the ability to pass the time of day with welcoming gestures.
Accompanying clothes were not chosen by the bikes colour, saddle or frame dimensions but by what felt right.

Don’t get me wrong there were a small number of female cyclists on Sunday club run.

Although they were always welcome they were seen as ‘One of the guys’ and never taken seriously in their own right. They were also anonymous, constrained by male machismo and of a desire to conform.

Now when I take part in sportives I see a marked increase in the percentage of women taking part. There is no way that they could be described as being ‘one of the guys’.
I usually end up admiring their legs in the same way as I did with Ms Pendleton……when they fly past me !!!!!

These are often sassy girls with attitude, who will pull at the front, box you in, and shell you out of a chain gang like an errant pea on a dinner plate.
They don’t need to ask the question ‘Does my bum look too big’.

By regularly taking part in such events, this is one sport that helps subdue such a question.
You are more likely to strike up a conversation about cadence, power weight ratios and the new Sidi race shoe range.

Our ‘Travels with my mule’ cycling team has its fair share of women who all keep us in check.
Joanne my partner used to go shopping on a weekend on her dutch town bike.
The thought of covering herself with Lycra and being locked into pedals for five hours appeared as attractive as cleaning the cooker. Four years later she now has 1000’s of miles in her legs including a number of Century rides. She commutes to work by bike, and can change an inner tube in less than five minutes without breaking a nail.
She spends more time on the Internet looking for cycling gear than she does looking at anything else and can always give me give a run for my money on any flat course that we cycle.
She is also as feminine as it comes.

I am reliably informed that the wives and girlfriends of some of our Mules have thought about

getting on their bikes.

Well the message is clear

Our stable door is always open !!!!!!

Become a FeMULE

Slow down............your killing me

This week Joanne and I had a 'big tiff', and as its cycling related its permitted for blog exposure.
Two weeks ago I started up a cycling club at work for Thursday evening rides.

I wanted to try and promote cycling by getting people out of their cars and onto bikes.

My idea was to wean them in slowly through gentle, weekly, social rides - no more than 20/30 miles, with the odd visit to a country pub thrown in.

Despite the wide range of bike/ body types and fitness levels, I wanted us to pace ourselves at the pace of the slowest cyclist.

I guess that's fine in principal, but if your the slowest cyclist It cant be much fun, especially when you think your slowing everybody down.

On our first week we had lots of promises, but only the already committed hardcore cyclists turned up.

Joanne had decided to come too expecting a nice evening ride, rather than to watch 'road racers' in front of her, champing at the bit. She was naturally apprehensive about joining us again.

This week I was assured by many other riders that they too would come, making it a greater cross section.

Despite reassuring Joanne of this she was having none of it, and harsh words were spoken.

So she went her way and I went mine ......on our bikes that is.

The social ride was far better attended with numerous people fighting for the slowest pace position.

Half way through the ride we saw a cyclist dressed in pink ahead of us, who then made a right turn, away from our desired route.

The consensus of opinion was that it was Joanne, so I went racing ahead trying to make my peace.

As I got closer and seemingly in ear shot, the road started climbing and the distance between us steadied.
'Joanne' I shouted 'wait up'

There was no response, so knowing that Joanne probably had her I-pod on I pushed harder, shouting all the while.

'Look I am sorry......I do understand, but we are a lot slower this week'

Still no response, by this time I was getting a little bothered.

Not because I was being ignored, but due to the sudden injection of speed that I was now having to contend with.

Rather than the gap narrowing it started to widen!!!!

With my heart rate already up to 160, I had got it in my head that Joanne had been deceitful and leading a double life.

She was a secret speedster, a true 'Ms Velo' probably competing with Victoria Pendleton during the week, when I thought she had a steady office job.

Frustration turned to anger which increased my adrenalin output.

As I stepped out of the saddle, my heart rate rocketed to 185 - way into the red zone.

'For F*** sake slow down.......your killing me' I shouted in vain as this pink apparition was climbing away like the late Marco Pantani.

There were of course numerous other words that I used, but half are too obscene to feature hear and the others my spell checker does not seem to recognise.

Regardless there was still no response.

By the time I had pulled up alongside, my mouth was frothing, my face was as red as an over ripe tomato and I was sweating like pig in a sauna with an advanced state of malaria.

It was precisely at that moment that I realise it was not Joanne.

The timing was perfect, because It was also exactly the same time, that this lone female cyclist saw a mad, demented, stranger with a frothing mouth, riding alongside her.

As I braked hard, my pitiful 'sorry' seemed totally inadequate.

I could just have wrecked an aspiring cycling career.....the poor girl may be traumatised forever.

When I got home Joanne had done nearly 60 miles at a pace far greater than our group and promised to come next week.

When I recounted my story, she reminded me that 'judgement', like cycling is sometimes better served if it is considered at a slower pace.

Training
This weeks training has been fantastic, I completed 284 miles in total, making 3,297 miles for the year. It included a 76 mile jaunt to York and back on Sunday (pictures below)

Months ago I set myself a personal goal. To ride a virtual route from Beverley to Houston (4772 miles) before the start of the Hotter than hell at the end of August. At that time I thought it a tall order and maybe just out of my reach. I still think that, but I know what I am like. Once I get a whiff of the finish, ill be cycling through the night.

Certainly with this increased intensity, I could just do it.

This week my virtual tour has had the benefit of a tail wind, I have flown through Massachusetts, New York State and am now in Pennsylvania.
Our 'Travelwithmymule' concept is still progressing slowly and we have finally ordered some shirts which I think are great. We are always looking for new riders, check out the website.