Gloves

Having been asked about gloves, here are some thoughts.....

Definitely wear them! I started developing unsightly callouses without and I have been assured by those more experienced at falling off that your hands often go down first so they're vital to protect you from road rash.

I used to own some Altura Synergy gloves. They have gel in the pressure points and make for a very comfy ride. Said gel did start to escape after a couple of months of every day wear but, having spoken to a couple of other people, it would appear that this happens with other gel gloves and for £17.99 a pair (less when they're on sale) I didn't worry too much about it and just replaced them.

My current short finger gloves are also Altura, but they're from the Gravity range. I can't find the ladies ones on Wiggle at the moment, but that's where I got them from, again on sale. They don't have gel padding but as I'm mainly on-road that works for me. I sweat a LOT, therefore I like gloves that can be cleaned without damaging them and I don't tend to spend a great deal on them on the basis that if they start to smell, I can get new ones.

For those who fancy smarty ones in leather or the like, Knog do nice ones available from Cyclechic. The Love Hate ones in red and white are my favourite. I dunno if they'd be great for sweaty commuting though as leather can get hot.

I'm not an Altura junkie as such (I own clothing and kit but various other brands) but these are the gloves that seem to suit me and I also own a pair of long-fingers from their brand. They are fleece with grip in convenient places. Again, because I get hot I need ones that can be washed and they allow air in so stay comfy as well as warm.

Hope this helps....

Screw the scouts, cyclists are the preparation kings

This afternoon I have to cycle straight to an important appointment. It's eight miles from the office and there's no direct transport link. I don't really have any other practical option other than to cycle.

Prep started last week. I looked into the transport situation and decided to cycle.

The last two days I've been researching routes. Yesterday A2 sent me a perfect one that's not too arduous (read sweaty) and it's pretty as it goes through Richmond Park.

This morning I was up early to decide on outfit (transferable from bike to walking around looking smartish) and 'the kit'. Facial wipes? Check. Dry shampoo? Check. Deodorant? Check. Make-up? Check.

Get to work this morning. Damn! I haven't bought new shampoo (current one makes my hair greasy and gross). Off to Hammersmith Broadway in lycra to pick some up.

I'm now ready, in a transferable outfit with clean hair and all the necessary bits and bobs. I'm also knackered. Zzzzzzzzz

The pink jersey

I own two Pearl Izumi jerseys, both have pink on but one is really pink. I also own a long-sleeved one that's REALLY pink.

As a rule, pink is fairly rare among the cycling fraternity (and sisternity), particularly among those who wear lycra. This means I'm rather distinctive, especially with my bright yellow 'seatbelt' worn over the top at all times.

Yesterday A2 was in town working from a local office and saw me streak past as he ordered his corporate coffee, our company's chairman often says hello when he sees me out and about, children I teach see me and wave, my parents' church friends mention they've spotted me when they see mum and dad at choir practice.

There's an upside and downside to all this:

• The upside is that when I complain about evil bus drivers I can tell TfL that I know I've been repeatedly offended against as a personal insult because I don't look like any old cyclist; I must also be on best behaviour a lot, which to me is a good thing as it often stops me from tempting naughtiness.
• The downside is that when you nearly hit said company chairman because he didn't look when he crossed the road you were turning into you spend the rest of the day worrying that he knows it was you........
  

Smiling happy people

The last two days have seen a definite increase in smile occurrence. I even got a little wave yesterday, marvellous!

Everyone from van drivers to pedestrians seems willing to give me a grin as I whoosh past. I often smile at drivers and pedestrians in order to say thank you or, on occasion, to reinforce my moral superiority if they've acted nob-like. In the past though, I have rarely got a smile back.

Perhaps it's the fact that spring is at last looking sprung and the flowers are out or perhaps it's just that all the miserable people have sought help... and Prozac. Whatever it is, it makes a nice change from the usual grumpy faces I see every day.

My current theory is that my vibrant pink tops are finally out after a winter shrouded in a yellow jacket. The weenie butterfly is emerging from her winter cocoon. Yes, the improved mood is definitely all down to me. Weenie's plan for world peace, one postcode at a time.

Oops!

It's a beautiful day, what could ruin it.

Perhaps having to sit in the office in a retina-searingly pink jersey because you've forgotten your t-shirt. Hmmmmmmm

I was starting to feel really silly when S hurried over. 'I've forgotten my trousers!' she exclaimed. 'I'm off to M&S, oh, why are you wearing your jersey?'

I replied, it's the weather for it. Here's a tenner, size 14 t-shirt please. Oops.

**Update: Am now in a pastel blue cotton t-shirt. Bliss.

When potholes go bad

'Come out, come out wherever you are!'

This is the call being made to my lady bits this morning. They have retreated after I hit the mother of all potholes last night.
I don't know if it was the angle or depth but I had turned to check on the cars behind me, turned back and SMACK!

The car driver behind apologised profusely after hearing my gentle words floating on the breeze....

MOTHERF***ER!

I tried to indicate that the fault was not his but was in no state to gesticulate accurately. Reg seems ok and I managed to get home but as soon as I could I got into the living room and lay down on the floor. Mr Weenie was very supportive... once he'd stopped laughing anyway. I may never let him near me again AND I was wearing padded leggings. I can't bear the thought of the damage had I been wearing unpadded.

Free and effective contraception thanks to the road authorities. Lovely.

What to wear?

This morning, like many women, I was torn over what to wear.

Hmmmmmm, should I go practical? Perhaps the pink? But those leggings make my bum look big, even if they are warm and snuggly. Sigh, it's all so complicated.

In the end I plumped for my winter fleecy leggings with high waist, my rather slinky black wool base layer with a short-sleeve jersey in pink, black and white, a reflective yellow tabard just in case I took my jacket off part-way, and, over the top, a yellow high-vis jacket with bikers' stripe up the back for that authentic cyclist look.

Feeling good and looking fine I slinked my way out of the door with accessories (Reg and my panniers) in black and red to hint at vampish undertones.

Yes, I've been reading far too many fashion columns.

Come on girls and boys.... dress me!

After yesterday's clearly inflammatory reference to jeggings I've decided to use my limited and tiny fame for purely selfish means.....

Where the hell can I find some cheap, long tunic/long t-shirts to wear when I cycle?

Lycra is all very well on a weekday commute and long-distance, but when I'm out and about on the weekend I'm a Cyclechic pannier, black leggings and long top kind of gal. But I can't find nice, long tunic-style tops anywhere. Lots of long jumpers, no long tops. Even my usual stalwart of Primarni has failed me. Everything long enough is TIGHT (trust me, only capital letters adequately convey just how tight).

As pointed out yesterday by both myself and others leggings only really work if the lady bit area is covered. Frankly only a gynaecologist should have to see that. (Girl I saw yesterday in Hammersmith in the fully sequinned leggings and crop top take note.)

Frankly, given the massive publicity surrounding getting women to cycle I find it a little shocking that none of the high-street brands has jumped on the bandwagon and put together some combos that are bike-friendly and fashionable.

Then again, perhaps to be truly fashionable one can't be practical. Look at Christian Lacroix, eek!

Update: Check out H&M girls!!!!!!!!!! Thank you CC for the recommendation.

Jeggings?

Since I began cycling in earnest I have become a big fan of leggings. Not just those in lycra, I'm taking about ones you wear in every day life.

Black leggings with a long jumper/t-shirt transfer beautifully from bike to going out and I even own a pair of black calf boots bought specifically for wearing with leggings. I also own a couple of pairs of crazy tights. They're thick and opaque but one pair has a stripes in shades of grey while the other has a fabulous ribbed pattern. All well and good.

However, I was recently having a wander round M&S when I realised to my horror that the new leggings I was considering, were in fact, jeggings. Leggings woven with a pattern to make them look like the skinniest of skinny jeans. And I was actually considering buying them.

I have fairly good legs (I have been complimented on them) and they would be immensely practical for cycling as they're completely opaque but I'm unsure.

Any ideas?

Bobbing along...

Bobbing along on the bottom of the beautiful briiiiiny sea!

I have no idea but I've had that song from Bedknobs and Broomsticks in my head all day. I must have been humming it out loud without realising for some time as a colleague's just turned and asked if it was from the film.

I'll be away for the rest of the week in Switzerland so this will be the last post for a while (put away that bugle!).

I'm going out on a high as I'm actually very proud of myself after the weekend, when I cycled to Edgware to have lunch with the journalism girls. Having never ever ventured that way before I was prepared with an AtoZ and a vague idea of which direction in which to head.

I pulled over three times o check I was going the right way and had a thoroughly enjoyable, if hilly, pootle. I was the first to arrive at the destination by a considerable length and had brought not only clothes to change into but pressies as well.

After a delicious lunch and some juicy gossip I changed back into my gear and cycled home. My weird memory means I often forget what I've had for breakfast by brunch but I have a photographic memory for routes. Despite never having been in that direction before I got home without checking my map once, without making an error and 20 minutes quicker than the outward journey.

I was home safe and considerably damp, had a hot shower and was snuggled up with Mr Handsome and The Fat One when Mr Weenie arrived home from rugby half an hour later. My legs were pain-free and I wasn't particularly tired. Having checked TfL and seen the horrendous traffic on the bus route I would have taken I knew it could have taken up to two hours to get home by public transport.

I would think about padded undershorts the next time as it took about an hour of pootling on badly maintained roads but other than that it was lovely and far more intellectually stimulating than a couple of bus rides.

What on earth did I do without my bike? How did I survive? I hope only that I'll never have to find out.

Wet feet

I'm sure the rain wasn't that heavy when I looked out of my window and decided to cycle to work.

Huge ploppy raindrops yes but not that many were falling and it didn't seem that wet. How wrong I was. As I stopped for the billionth time to wipe my glasses I realised I was a very rare breed on the road. There weren't may cyclists at all and the rain seeping through my leggings was why.

The mist and rain fogged my glasses so I stopped regularly to clean them, I tried to avoid as many puddles as possible and pootled as the rain had affected my braking somewhat. Cars were, on the whole, quite considerate although there were a couple of nobbers who weren't looking. As my last accident was in rain I was in my high-vis the whole way and was extra careful at junctions and where there where blind turns.

I was warm throughout and, actually, the only part of me that got REALLY wet was my feet and I have spare shoes at home anyway. I also have waterproof socks for the journey home.

Sooooooo, the critical commuting question is: would you rather get wet and sweaty in a crammed tube carriage or get wet feet?

No contest really.

Sorting the wheat from the chaff...

Or more bike parking for me.

This morning there was just one other bike in the rack I normally use. We have other ones round the back and there were a couple in them but there are very few cyclists left.

On the plus side the waiting time for the showers has reduced dramatically and I have my pick of he bike stands. I'm also given the look of awe by some as I stride in in lycra on frosty mornings.

On the down side, it's bloody cold out there. However, my problem is not one of chilly extremities, rather it is of sweaty hotness. Piling on the layers is all well and good when you set off, puffing clouds of steam and thanking the Lord for those fleecy leggings you nearly didn't buy. Halfway to work though you've worked up some body heat and you're dripping with sweat. You can't be arsed to pull over because you've only got 15 minutes left to ride so you struggle on encased in a cocoon of clammy lycra.

You alternate between keeping those toasty gloves on and taking the damn things off for short periods when you become like a furnace.

Then when you get to work you sit red-faced in a t-shirt while colleagues pull their cardigans around them in a vain attempt to get warm.

Roll on spring.

Envy retro stylee

There was a woman on a Chopper on my commute this morning.

Yes, a Chopper.

It was clearly one from some distance because of the unique seat shape etc and the fact it was tiny small. She had the Vans and surfer-style mess of hair that meant she was obviously deeply cool and I must admit that rather than scoff I was envious.

She couldn't go terribly fast but was cruising rather than pootling, exuding the sense that she would get there when she got there and to chill out speed freaks.

Reg was the equivalent of a bowler hat and pinstripe suit in comparison to her Juicy Couture tracksuit of a bike. Her bike is probably called India or Hiawatha or something that can be shortened to C or whatever the first letter of its name is. In fact, it's probably so cool it doesn't even have a name.

I think my sense of uncoolness was magnified by my new 'Sam Browne' a reflective belt around the waist and over the shoulder. Following the accident I'm a bit nervous about being seen. I'm sure my desire to look like a clown will end eventually but for now I look like a Mexican goalkeeper.

Whitstable.... soooo tiring

So on Friday night, before the lergy set in, I headed to Whitstable with the Friday night crew. The omens weren't good. It started weeing with rain as I left Paddington and cycled through Hyde Park. I get hot at the mere mention of a waterproof jacket and as I and a couple of other early birds took shelter under the Hyde Park Corner arch we were sceptical. More and more lights blinked towards us and soon a sizable number of regulars had arrived, including the lovely Andy on this:

Yes, it's a two-wheeled recumbent with a ghost on it. I knew it was there but on dark country lanes at 3am I defy anyone not to jump a little bit when it veers into view.

Anyhoo, we gathered and had the usual safety talk from Super Simon and swung onto our bikes. As we set off it stopped raining and I'm pleased to say it remained dry until the very end, when we pulled into Whitstable bay.

We were plagued by the p******* fairy even while still in London. One of the lovely regulars went over a beer bottle at London Bridge and tore a new tyre. He was visited twice more over the ride and our total for the whole ride was 10/11 depending on who you asked.

All this meant that the first half took far longer than it should have, but, on the plus side, I got to see where the Woolwich ferry is while chatting to the lovely Mike who had his bike rigged up like a Christmas tree. I know I keep saying lovely but they just are.

The air was cool and crisp with the full moon slowly revealed as the journey went on.

The cafe stop in Rochester was more than welcome and I have discovered that there's nothing quite like a fried egg baguette to perk you up. Having opened specially for us, the owners were a little put out when a couple of revolting teenagers turned up and tried to make trouble. In the end and irate female owner and the sight of 50 weary and lycra-clad bikers forced a retreat.

We headed into the countryside proper and it was beautiful. Empty fields and minimal traffic, cold clean air and good company. Bliss.

I was promised the phenomenon of 'misty sheep' at one point. Apparently, this time last year the mist was such that all you could see of the sheep were the tops of their heads. The mist had burned off by the very end but I did get the bleating from within the fog at one point.

As we arrived in the bay the rain returned in spitting form and the sight of bikes that meant 'Cafe stop!' was massively welcome. The final destination was a fabulous cafe with a large terrace to look out over the sea. It was too cold to sit out for me but a few hardened nutters sat out there just to say they had. A few even harder nutters demanded to be served beer when the clock reached 10am.

This was easily the most knackering ride I've done but my God it was fun, more pics to follow.

A lovely morning

Last night I headed to Evans for the second round of leggings-gate.

I'd ordered in the XL Gore Wear ones and went to try them on. They fit. Like a dream. And are so comfy I could wear them forever. How annoying.

I was, in my heart of hearts, hoping that they'd be way too big but the XL fit like a glove. The fabric's so posh it feels like I'm naked and I have to keep looking down to check that I'm not. The panelling means the fabric is snug without pulling and there's so much ergonomic padding I feel like I'm sitting on a cushion. Mmmmmmmm

S and I set off and secretly I was hoping we'd escape without incident. Yesterday, her first day back after a nasty cough and cold, was horrendous. Solid traffic, a vicious left hook by an insane 4x4 BMW that would have left even the hardest lycra loony shaken and various nobbers on the road.

This morning was a dream. Very little traffic, whole stretches where we could pull out into the right lane with no one behind us and we beat the rain to make it into work dry. We also helped a fellow cyclist on a delicious looking Tricross who needed to borrow a pump. Then to top it off the lovely A2 met us in the coffee shop for a natter as we headed in to park up.

Lovely lovely.

Labia protection for ladies

I've been simmering over the Evans business.

If the staff knew that all the women's stuff is in teeny sizes why weren't there more normal sizes on the shop floor? Why?

I'm so bored of asking in a timid and embarrassed lady voice whether there are any extra larges pretty please. Next time perhaps I should just bellow, 'Hi, got anything that sounds like it's for fat people even though it's actually just for ladies bigger than a twig?' jovially as I stride through.

What horrifies me the most I think is that I'm a size 14 and find it difficult. The average size in the UK is a 16 so where on earth are those ladies meant to get their clothes? Plus, while non-cycling specific gear is ok for short hops and social rides, padding is where it's at when it comes to regular riding.

Ergonomic labia protection is, frankly, a vital part of the kit. If you asked a male cycle clothing executive whether he would expect most men to wear stuff that compromises their balls because they're not thin enough for the clothing on the market I'm guessing he'd say no, so why are women of normal and slightly larger build made to do so by sheer lack of variety?

Just because we don't feel the need to talk obsessively about our lady bits doesn't mean we don't value them highly and feel they deserve the best in terms of comfort.

Come on cycle clothing people, get with it.

Worst morning ever.

Last night I got a puncture just seconds from home so I fixed it in the living room and headed off this morning full of the joys with cycle vouchers in my pocket from my fabulous sister.

A few hundred yards in something was wrong. Yes, the front wheel was on backwards. Oops. Put it back on and continued.

Got to Evans only to discover that they only had the tights I wanted in 'small' and 'medium'. In women's cycle clothing this means 'stick insect' and fat 'stick insect'. Outraged, I demanded that bigger ones be ordered in. The guy across the counter started to ask for payment with a refund of they didn't fit but an icy glare meant the sentence was abandoned long before it concluded.

Tootling on to Hammersmith I reached a road that, while unmarked, you're supposed to go to the right or left depending on which way you're going at the T-junction. I headed for the middle as I was turning right and if you hug the right-hand curb you get squished. I was thwarted by a nobber who was crawling up the middle in everyone's way. I decided to overtake him on his right only to have a blacked-out pimp-mobile roar up my right-hand side. A cloud of suspicious smoke rolled out of the window as it was opened. 'WHAT THE F*** YOU DOING YOU C***?! STOP CYCLING LIKE A F****** IDIOT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!' Was spat out of the window by the passenger.

Normally I would have retorted with similar wording but men in hoodies in blacked out cars and who own gold teeth are, in my experience, to be avoided. 'I'm turning right and the guy in front of me won't move, what do you want me to do?' Was all I could say. I was shaking with rage and near tears with frustration a the injustice of it all.

I decided a Starbucks would cheer me up. I came out with a coffee and realised my front tyre was flat. Again.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Women's cycle clothing, we're finally getting somewhere

I have to admit that I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of stylish clothing on show. There were some very cool-looking biker-style jackets by Swiss company ASSOS and a whole stand dedicated to commuting clothes.

The BSpoke range was featured and, I tell you what, Weenie likes.

My favourite item was a black trench-style jacket with hood. Lined with funky purple it looked like a lovely going out jacket. ... to the untrained eye at least. Any cyclist worth their salt will have notice: the pull down section that covers your arse but then poppers away when you're not cycling; the hidden pit zips and inside pockets; the reversible belt that's reflective, the completely waterproof but breathable fabric. Sigh.

If only it wasn't around £120 I'd be sold. But with standard high-vis jackets, including black fitted one with reflective strips, coming in at a maximum of £70, I just couldn't justify it.

Depressingly, this was a common feature on the clothing I looked at. Cyclodelic and new designer Ana Nichooler were both at the show and had some lovely stuff (check below for pix of Ana Nichooler stuff) but all of it was expensive. A lot of my lycra gear is hard-wearing and not too hideous in the pricing range so I'm happy to throw it over London's roads and take it out most days. I would love some designer stuff but I fear it would stay at the back of my wardrobe as I'd be too frightened to take it out.

Perhaps when women's cycling becomes normal and less rarified prices will drop, at least we're getting somewhere now. On the weekends I don't want to wear lycra padded shorts as I trip round markets and do light shopping. I take great comfort from the fact that women's cycle clothing is being looked at by designers.

Ana Nichoolson stuff, I like........

Lycra, practical on men, pervy on women.

There's a bike shop fairly near work and I like it. The staff are generally very helpful and most of them remember who I am. However, there is a problem and it's one of their other regular customers. He's around twice my age and never looks at my face.

He's said hello before and I've always given the nod and silent smile of 'I'm being polite but not giving the go ahead for you to talk to me'. Normally I've managed to time my departure so I'm not alone with him and can cycle on in peace. This morning, after popping in for valve dust caps, I woefully mistimed it.

He followed me out admired my bike, then made several comments around the theme of 'You must be fit with a figure like that', 'You must cycle quite far to look like that' etc etc. I was desperately trying to get my panniers clipped and get out of there.

I've always admired women who know how to handle this kind of situation because I really don't. I cringe, I'm overly polite and all the time I'm panicking inside. When he said 'Which way are you going, because I reckon I should go that way too' with a leer I wanted the ground to swallow me. Instead I pedalled off, very fast.

So fast in fact that I overtook several swanky roadies and got into work much faster than usual.

I was wearing black cycle shorts that stop two inches above my knee, a bright pink short-sleeved jersey, trainers and a helmet. Hardly come hither attire. I've been whistled at and catcalled a few times but what I wear is not hugely different from other people on the road, it's just that I'm female.

What makes it ok to perv over a women in lycra when, quite frankly, the sight of a man in bibshorts inspires giggles in most women?

Why is lycra seen as a practical measure when men wear it and a come-on when women do?

So unfair.

The second jersey

It's arrived and it is PINK.

If you're in Ealing tomorrow you will see me coming!