A Girls’ Cycling CompendiumJune 2007 Issue 1

that you wouldn’t usually be seen dead in? Sure, there are some days that you want to go faster- and for those you want to smooth on the Lycra and adjust the perfect cut of a cuff in the pursuit of improved aerodynamics. But sometimes you want to have fun on a trail, hop into town and have a wander without looking bike geek - or to even just know that if you want to sling your leg over a cross bar during the course of your day that you won’t be desperately uncomfortable.

Indulging my inner cycling fashionsta is what led to minx-girl.com, cycle clothing that you might just want to wear off the bike too. But now it’s more than just the clothes (hard to believe I know), as customers have become friends, wear testers, bike lenders and best of all, sharers of stories. It felt like time to write some of them down, so welcome to the fi rst issue of the Minx Girls’ Cycling Compendium. Lovely Ali says it’s a gentle meander through some hardcore. I like that.

P.S. I would like to make it plain that any slack attitude towards sisters wrenching for themselves or references to persuading blokes to carry kit are purely the result of my own ineptitude and laziness respectively, and in no way represents the expertise of other women.

I’VE ALWAYS loved my bikes - from hurtling up and down the pavement outside my grandparent’s house, to my fi rst ‘serious’ bike. It was a

graphite grey (colour is SO important) Evans tourer and my colleagues were horrifi ed that I’d bought a bike for about the same amount of money as the cost of a car. I used it to commute around London and ever since then, even though I’ve had decidedly sexier machines for road racing and mountain biking, my favourite is always the quiet one that gets pulled out of the shed to put in some miles on a Sunday morning before the rest of the world wakes up, the easy call for nipping out to get the papers... You see I like bikes that integrate themselves into your life - before you know it there’s a whole lot of history going on. I never worried about borrowing bikes until someone gave me a fi xie that they’d ridden across the Golden Gate Bridge on. It felt like I was the keeper of their memories. Well actually I still am- I will give it back one day Gordon, I promise...

It’s a long way of saying that if bikes and the riding of them can seamlessly be part of your life, then why do the clothes that your wear have to be so different- and frankly the sort of stuff

…from the editor

Jenn’s 24 Hour Solo Checklist

bike / spare bike .....sometimes even singlespeeds go wrong mud wheels ...at 4am you don’t want to think about swapping tyres helmet / night helmet / gloves x 4 ...there’s nothing like clean, dry gloves and a fresh snot wipe shoes x 2 / oakleys, lenses / shorts ...favourite expensive pairs for the beginning and the end, plus the super-comfy eight-year-old pair that are baggy around the edges but have become the arse equivalent of a wooly jumper hug jerseys ...minx 3⁄4s / leg warmers / arm warmers / wool base layer...sheep know stuff special warm thing ...jo’s old pace jersey, bobbly and with holey pockets, full of good memories to see the night through gilet /windproof / waterproof / galoshes / socks ...every last pair multitooltyre / levers / spare tubes / patches / C02 spare air cans / blackburn mammoth mountain / tool box / zip ties / gaffer tape / lights / battery / battery charger and back-up light / petzl ...fixing punctures and night time portaloo visits ibuprofen ...singlespeed back plasters / germolene / arnica / spare contact lenses / baby wipes / toothpaste, toothbrush, carmex lip balm ...make it feel like morning ipod ...the national, del amitri, deep dish, counting crows, patty griffin, gianni schicchi, wailin’ jennies, ryan adams, stone roses, nada surf, radiohead, lo fi allstars, josh rouse, the eagles of death metal alarm clock / rice pudding / jelly / caffeinated powerbars / ginger torq bars marshmallows / walkers ready salted crisps / torq gojuice / vanilla powergels / pink iced ring doughnuts wiv’ sprinkles / flapjack dried apple / more crisps ...burp water / bottles / full hip flask... forget porridge, a nip of malt sees in the day stanley the magical thermal mug... sometimes fairies arrive under cover of darkness and fill it up with hot, sweet tea beer... for the first swig that washes the sweat from your lips, the dust from your throat and tells you that once again, it’s over

www.minx-girl.com

bike / spare bike .....sometimes even singlespeeds go wrong mud wheels ...at 4am you don’t want to think about swapping tyres helmet / night helmet / gloves x 4 ...there’s nothing like clean, dry gloves and a fresh snot wipe shoes x 2 / oakleys, lenses / shorts ...favourite expensive pairs for the beginning and the end, plus the super-comfy eight-year-old pair that are baggy around the edges but have become the arse equivalent of a wooly jumper hug jerseys ...minx 3⁄4s / leg warmers / arm warmers / wool base layer...sheep know stuff special warm thing ...jo’s old pace jersey, bobbly and with holey pockets, full of good memories to see the night through gilet /windproof / waterproof / galoshes / socks ...every last pair multitooltyre / levers / spare tubes / patches / C02 spare air cans / blackburn mammoth mountain / tool box / zip ties / gaffer tape / lights / battery / battery charger and back-up light / petzl ...fixing punctures and night time portaloo visits ibuprofen ...singlespeed back plasters / germolene / arnica / spare contact lenses / baby wipes / toothpaste, toothbrush, carmex lip balm ...make it feel like morning ipod ...the national, del amitri, deep dish, counting crows, patty griffin, gianni schicchi, wailin’ jennies, ryan adams, stone roses, nada surf, radiohead, lo fi allstars, josh rouse, the eagles of death metal alarm clock / rice pudding / jelly / caffeinated powerbars / ginger torq bars marshmallows / walkers ready salted crisps / torq gojuice / vanilla powergels / pink iced ring doughnuts wiv’ sprinkles / flapjack dried apple / more crisps ...burp water / bottles / full hip flask... forget porridge, a nip of malt sees in the day stanley the magical thermal mug... sometimes fairies arrive under cover of darkness and fill it up with hot, sweet tea beer... for the first swig that washes the sweat from your lips, the dust from your throat and tells you that once again, it’s over

SCBFree race : Cyclocross format*

• No permission• No insurance• No pits• Any bike• Anybody

11am for a noon start Local pickup at the bridge Friends welcomeBring your own beer

*Rules are flexible and at the organiser’s discretion - it is his birthday after all.

IT WAS CLEAR that the Skull & Cross Bikes race was not going to be your average Cyclo-Cross Race but the scene was set. In total 30 or so riders turned up, varying from local trail pixies to hardened sponsored racers and hungover bike industry folk. As everyone arrived for pre race tea and buns they were treated to one of the wettest days of the winter. Perfect ‘cross weather.

Unlike many ‘Cross races, from the start line there wasn’t a muddy field in sight. Instead the course was a laid out in a patch of muddy woodland - well out of the way of innocent bystanders. The first lap started with a sprint down a gravel track then in to a steep muddy singletrack climb which, for many, turned in to a trudge. After that the course levelled and sent the racers in to slippery, rooty singletrack which was so waterlogged it had become terrifyingly fast. Then there was a slimy drop down the hill into a quarry, a quick dismount to scramble over a rotting tree and up the other side of the quarry. Finally there was

place, opted to strip down to shoes, helmet and heart rate monitor strap. His bonus lap got him past Edinburgh rider, The Dark Marquis. Jenn Hopkins decided not to follow Phil’s example and instead chose the straightforward tactic of simply riding faster than anyone else. A controversial technique, but one that paid off as she placed fi rst girl. As the riders trickled in to the fi nish, the remaining beer was polished off and already everyone was reminiscing.

Rumour has it that this winter’s series will stretch to 5 rounds. No whiners please. Exhibitionist tendencies an advantage. Welcome to pure sweet hell.

another slimy drop which spat you out at the climb or the shortcut. Oh yes, the shortcut! Racers had the option of riding the off-road climb or downing a bottle of cheap continental lager and riding up the road to the start of the singletrack. This option proved popular. That’s not how they do it in Belgium. They have much better beer.

While some did their best to survive an hour plus a lap, many duked it in the mud, fi ghting for one more place. Half way through a surprise rule was announced: “The Nudity Clause” any rider fi nishing the race in their “birthday skinsuit” (in honour of the birthday occasion of course) would be awarded an extra lap. Only two riders opted for this ploy but it proved decisive: Singlespeed racer Phil the Horse got lost on the fi rst lap and, despite valiantly fi ghting back to second

Exhibitionist tendencies an advantage.

I LOVE MY ROAD BIKES. Not that long ago I was a confirmed dirt evangelist, flinching from skinny tyres and drop bars like a vampire traversing Ventoux on a summer’s day at noon. Then I went to France. And then to Italy, and back to France again. I caught glimpses of a cycling culture that has road riding at its heart, in countries where cars beep at you not to express disgust at the two-wheeled contraption impeding their progress but just to let you know they’re there, have seen you and will wait for a sensible place to pass, thanks. Where grizzled pensioners who have cycled for work, pleasure and transport all their lives and don’t see any reason why they should stop now, spend their Sundays winching their way slowly but determinedly to the tops of cols before getting a lift back down after a wine-soaked lunchtime picnic. Where workmen wind down the windows of their vans to shout the encouraging “allez madame, allez, courage!”, rather than to jeer at the freak in lycra. Where the tarmac is as hot, smooth and black as a perfect espresso, and every col and mountain pass has a history so full of stories and fables that I couldn’t even begin to decide which ones I wanted to be scared of.

cuppas and crumpets

So, I bought a road bike, just to try it out. Second-hand, very much pre-loved, and really rather brutal. Then I bought another one. More forgiving, more me-shaped and, pure luxury, brand spanking new. Then I bought a fixed, just for something different, and now I ride more on the road than I do off it. Part of that is down to the sheer tedious impossibility of riding lots of winter miles off-road in this particularly sticky corner of the country. In the winter, I can go for a two hour mountain bike ride, spend the entirety of it struggling through thick mud and hub-deep puddles and then spend half an hour cleaning the bike, and a further hour releasing shoes from their concrete entrenchings, de-muddying Camelbaks and unblocking the washing machine

welcome to the dark side

Continued...

welcome to the dark side

before I even get myself anywhere near the bath. Or I can go out on the road bike, ride for miles in relative ease and be sitting on the sofa with a cuppa and crumpets before Countryfile has even started. No contest. And on a hot summer evening, there are few things more pleasant than a gentle pootle along the coast; flat, breezy, and blissfully sweat-free after a sticky day at work.

There’s more to it than the practicality, though. Something about road riding makes it more pleasing to the soul and often just more satisfying than any other type of riding. Tarmac hours make an altogether more balanced equation than the thrutch and scuffle of muddy mountain bike miles. There is a grace and peace to the quiet one-two of you and the bike versus the road that’s obliterated by the clatter of two wheels forced through and over the worst of the countryside. If I want time to think, or rather I don’t want to concentrate on thinking at all but just want to ride, with the clicks and whirrings of my mind knocked down a level or two on the volume scale, then the road bike comes out. Alone in the lanes the silence is bliss and there’s no tyre talk or faffing to tolerate, just as much or as little effort as I wish to prescribe for myself and the freedom to roll mile after mile away under my wheels.

breaking the rules

Group rides on tarmac, however, are a whole different kettle of fish. Road riding is shrouded in an almost masonic air of mystery; customs and traditions, language and kit that bear no resemblance to the lighter-hearted, muddy side of the cycling world. It can also seem like a world of blind prejudice and pointless restrictions. There are practical considerations behind the majority of road riding’s major do’s and don’t, but if you can find a way around them, or even just live with them, then who’s to say you shouldn’t?

…welcome to the dark side

Helmet peaks can obscure your view in the drops, but they also keep the sun, or more often the rain, sleet and hail on this damp little island, out of your eyes. ‘Proper’ road shoes and cleats might give you a stiffer pedalling platform and up your power transfer no end, but try walking across a shiny fl oor in them carrying tea and buns for six and see how many records you break then.

Baggy shorts fl ap a bit and can chafe when it’s raining but let’s be realistic about this - are we really that likely to be heading out with any intention of going at warp speed if we’ve got baggies on? And why would we, as members of the fairer and more practical sex, ever ride without mudguards in the rain anyway? What you wear has a profound effect on how you feel, as all good Minxes know. Soft, comfy, forgiving baggies keep the easy days calm, the cafe rides chilled, and somehow make any wolf whistles received whilst commuting seem a little more fl attering and less, well, seedy...

the joy of socks

All of these ‘mistakes’ will no doubt draw stares from the hardened tarmac warrior. Meet a dyed-in-the-wool roadie with your baggies fl apping in the breeze and your helmet peak hiding your wayward fringe, and there’s a strong chance you won’t even get the slow single index fi nger lift that passes as a greeting from behind dropped bars. Does it matter? Probably not. We don’t ride for approval from others but to soothe the soul inside. There’s nothing wrong with being a dirt roadie. But please always, always make sure you wear the best white socks.Jenn Hopkins

don’t ride for approval from others but to soothe the soul inside.

“WHAT’S IT like living with a mountain biker?” That made me think a bit. You see I have absolutely no idea what it’s like to live with someone who isn’t a mountain biker. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve even given it serious snogging consideration. That might sound a little like positive discrimination, but consider the advantages:

» First date ‘what-to-wear’ anxiety doesn’t exist. Hell, he asked you out even though he’d only ever seen you in mud-splattered lycra – relatively speaking you’re gonna be a goddess.» He doesn’t complain about your ‘food-as-fuel’ cooking skills.» You never have to do the shoe thing of knocking a zero off the price before you tell him what your new bike cost.» You are not required to explain patiently and at length why you need three bikes – because he has nine.» He doesn’t come over all sensible when you fi nally have some money in the bank but blow it all on a cross-frame that’s been hanging on the local bike shop wall for months with your name on it.» He understands when you get out of bed at 7.00am on a Sunday to get a few road miles in the name of fi tness. » He never wants to lie on a beach in Greece when you could be in Moab.» You have someone to carry spares and tools on rides and an in-house mechanic on 24-hour call. In fact what more perfect expression of his affections than the day he builds a bike for you?

Oh good grief, I think I’m falling in love all over again……”

3» Learn to ride a fixieOK, SO I KNOW that back in the day all bikes were fixed. My Father is always pointing that out to me. But as someone who got into riding a mountain bike in the 1980’s I like my gears. My conversion was gradual, first onto a singlespeed mountain bike then my boyfriend thought it was time I learnt the ways of the fixie. He’s been riding one to commute for years and felt I should experience the sensation. Opportunity came with the impulse purchase of a former British Team Terry Dolan track bike in a cadette size (I’m 5’2”). This threw me in at the deep end, as at the time I was even a clipless pedal virgin and the bike had a very racy set-up. What an absolutely odd experience. After I had mastered clipping in and out of the pedals, I started gingerly down the quiet street. John was behind me with words of encouragement, but I didn’t really listen, all I could hear was myself saying “Don’t stop pedalling’ and “ Don’t be a stupid wimpy girl”. After an hour of so cycling around the block I had managed to pick up speed and was confident(ish) at stopping at junctions.

baby steps

That first day my front brake, (yes, I know perhaps a heathen thing to do on a track bike, but really, I wasn’t going to ride brakeless!), took a bit of a beating, and the next morning my thighs burned from all the braking with my legs. But after a few rides I felt pretty confident. I even rode down Park Street in Bristol (anyone who knows it will understand- it’s not a ridiculously steep hill but it is a popular shopping area so has lots of people, cars, and buses on it…not particularly fixie friendly.) Now I’ve changed the original set up to make things more comfortable (flat handlebars and a mountain bike brake lever), I would happily ride my fixie to the pub and the shops. And you never know one day I may even have the confidence to use it as my commute bike.

I will never forget the foreign feeling of riding that bike for the first time. It reminded me of the emotions I experienced as a child learning to ride. I guess learning anything new gives you the same kind of apprehensions, but there’s something very humbling about re-teaching yourself how to do something you think you can already do. Mel Lyons

pick three new things to try this year…

» Bake a cakePerfect post-ride banana bread

• 250g plain fl our• 2 tsp baking powder• pinch of salt• 3 very ripe bananas, mashed• 125 g butter• 150g caster sugar• 2 large eggs• 1⁄2 tsp vanilla extract

Pre heat the oven to 180˚ C.

Cream the butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in the eggs one at a time, followed by the vanilla and then stir in the bananas. Combine the fl our, baking powder and salt and fold into the mixture with a light hand. Bake in a loaf tin for about an hour.

Consume post-ride in a single sitting or take to races for instant cycling domestic goddess status. Divine with cream cheese.

» Take up Yoga

All poses taken from: Yoga for Cyclists by Andria Baldovin. From www.minx-girl.com £17.00. Thanks to Yoga Jane and her bendy hair.From www.minx-girl.com £17.00. Thanks to Yoga Jane and her bendy hair.

Dancers Pose

Improves balance and stretches quads.

Triangle Pose

Stretches the back.

Side Arm Balance

Strengthens shoulders and core.

Upward Plank Pose

Strengthens shoulders and butt.

3 pick three new things to try this year…

FOUNDED BY Jennifer Steketee, the Harlot Clothing Company makes bike kit for proper curvy girls that fits and flatters, and makes you wonder why you put up with boy-shaped shorts for so long. Jennifer has a happy knack of knowing just what you want to wear - from MX inspired camo shorts to the perfect pair of three-quarters that look as cute off the bike as they do cool on it. She also developed the barely-there and rather deliciously named ‘Beaver Comfort Zone’ system of lightweight padding. Minx and Harlot love each other to bits. Here’s why...

The really obvious one- how did you get into all this?

I got into cycling later in life than most. I suppose the story is no different than for a lot of women: I started dating a boy who was an avid cyclist, and he introduced me to the sport. Though I had been an athlete all my life, I did not take to biking quickly or easily. Frankly, I found the whole thing to be quite a struggle. Part of the awkwardness for me was the clothing. I just felt ridiculous in lycra (which is hell for big hipped girls like myself) and the more mountain oriented attire was so bulky and unflattering. Vain, I know, but I hated getting dressed for a ride.

Years passed, that boy became my husband, and I ended up being submerged into the bike industry (my husband owns a bike company). As I met more people within the industry, I would always whine about the clothing options for women. Everyone agreed that there was a need for more apparel companies directed at women. After waiting and waiting for someone else to do something about it, I finally jumped in and started Harlot about 3 years ago. I am truly the most unlikely person to have created something like this and wonder daily how I ended up here.

Harlot at work

Minx loves the name- which is almost rude in the UK. How did it come about?

The name Harlot is definitely rude here in the US too. When I decided to start the company I wanted the gear to hark back to the older days when clothes were more simple. Some of my frustration with the available cycling gear was that it was all technical fabrics and molded chamois pads, fancy zippers and excessive cargo pockets, when all I wanted was a comfortable pair of shorts that made my bum look OK and didn’t catch on my saddle. I started looking into the history of women on bikes and found that women were very much ridiculed and called names for saddling up back then. Harlot was one of the names those first women cyclists were called. Though I knew it would probably offend a few people, I liked it and decided to go for it. Plus, I never thought the company would actually get off the ground.

What was the first thing you designed?

The first thing I designed was a REALLY ugly pair of shorts. Comfortable but BAD.

And the inspiration for the Beaver Comfort Zone?

Um, the Beaver Comfort Zone is the result of one drunken ski day, a few too many hours in the lodge “brain storming” with some punk ass friends, and a dare.

What is the biggest headache when trying to design something that fits (most) women?

Women come in every possible shape and size and are generally made up of curved surfaces. It’s near impossible to design clothes to really fit women well, yet women are much more picky about fit than men.

Jennifer’s most wanted

Coffee: Aroma Coffee, a local beanery here in Santa Fe, with lots of cream and sugar. Bad habit.

Song: “Her First Mistake” by Lyle Lovett. I have a quirky obsession with Lyle.

Film: Office Space. Even though I’ve never worked in a traditional office setting that movie kills me.

Book: anything by Hemingway. The man understood sublety.

Time of day: very early morning before the rest of the world wakes up. Often I’m working by 5 a.m.

When did you realise that it was all going to work and you could give up the day job?

I’m still not at all sure it will all work out, but I quit my day job about 11⁄2 years ago. My fi ngers are still very much crossed at this point.

What makes it all worthwhile?

Every time a customer says “I’ve been riding for years and these are the fi rst bike shorts I’d tried on that actually fi t”. I’m always amazed by the genuine support and enthusiasm from other women cyclists.

I was the harlot in the Scarlet X Knickers!by Lucy Symons age 371⁄2

The lovely lime trousers: How clever to have “proper” woven trouser material over two thirds and then a stripe of forgiving lycra about the top and sides. I wore them to take the girls to school this morning and felt vaguely stylish, and yet... and yet... They were padded just enough to make even that hill seem like it was just a pimple, and delightfully generous when you get off, so well cut at the top with a lovely “v” dip (like those surfer dude 3⁄4 length trousers with the fl at front that are so fl attering) which makes even my slight muffi n top look more like a rich tea and less of a muffi n. AND there is an extra wide strip of lycra at the top of the back which allows for full coverage when you are leaning right in to the hill so even the largest of arses would be fully covered. Because they are not so tight they also don’t look as if you are wearing anything padded either, so you can maintain your hard reputation and not seem like the cream puff you really are. No sausage legs here, or squidgy bits sticking out over the top, and who can resist the fact that the person right behind you is not only eating your dust but also reading the word: “Harlot” on your right cheek? “Does that really say harlot?” my riding companion asked this morning...

Minx likes volunteers to test new products in anger - if you’d like to sign up to try new stuff please drop her a line via www.minx-girl.com.

shorts I’d tried on that actually fi t”. I’m always amazed by the genuine support and

I don’t ride my bike to get thin or be fast. I don’t ride to win but I don’t like to lose - even in the

‘cross race I enter for fun once a year. I know for a fact that riding a bike does not make your thighs

big but that it will give you a huge grin. Oh and I really don’t care about helmet hair. Commuting by

bike rocks and upsetting the guy in accounts when I walk past wearing shorts is the best part of my

day at the office. I love that a rusting shopper rescued from the shed to take along the sea front in

search of chips for tea can be as much fun to ride as a sleekly expensive thoroughbred machine.

Riding for 100 miles will give me a sense of achievement, but taking my bike ten minutes to the

shop for cake has the power to turn a bad mood good. (But that might be the cake.) I do not

discriminate between fat tyres or skinny nor mind if it’s road or dirt beneath them.

I just like to ride my bike.

I don’t ride my bike to get thin or be fast. I don’t ride to win but I don’t like to lose - even in the

‘cross race I enter for fun once a year. I know for a fact that riding a bike does not make your thighs

big but that it will give you a huge grin. Oh and I really don’t care about helmet hair. Commuting by

bike rocks and upsetting the guy in accounts when I walk past wearing shorts is the best part of my

day at the office. I love that a rusting shopper rescued from the shed to take along the sea front in

search of chips for tea can be as much fun to ride as a sleekly expensive thoroughbred machine.

Riding for 100 miles will give me a sense of achievement, but taking my bike ten minutes to the

shop for cake has the power to turn a bad mood good. (But that might be the cake.) I do not

discriminate between fat tyres or skinny nor mind if it’s road or dirt beneath them.

I just like to ride my bike.

With big thanks to Jenn, Fi, Mel, Shaggy, Celia, Ali, Jo, Jennifer, Lucy, Fat Bob and the Bug.If you’d like to contribute to the next issue please contact debbie@minx-girl.com with your idea for words and / or pictures. It doesn’t have to be many. Just the well chosen ones.

On 17 Jan 2007, at 16:25, Jo Burt wrote:-----Original Message-----From: debbie@minx-girl.com

>>>>Are you still on for doing me a cartoon? >>>>Same lines as we discussed before - girls/ kittens/subversive.

yup, no worries, who’s coming up with the script?

I dunno. I sort of have this image of girlies riding an ugly bit of trail (perfectly) with fl uffy kittens in wicker baskets on their shit hot bikes. The cartoonifi cation of ‘look pretty, smile sweetly and then kick ass’. I’m leaning more towards irony than a radical feminist stance, but was probably going to rely on your towering intellect and razor sharp wit to make sense of my vague thoughts.

Dx

© Minx 2007