Sun in my eyes yesterday and the day before! Temperatures in the 40s demanded that I mount two wheels and head off along the canal for a ride. Divine. I haven’t been a cyclist for about 30 years so it surprises me how much I’ve taken to this biking. During and after my ride is when I feel my absolute best. I’m hooked on that sensation: I get hot and sweaty; I breathe hard; I feel both energized and relaxed at the same time. It’s when I feel most prayerful, grateful for having a healthy body ABLE to make such rides!
As often as I’m riding – (I guess I’m pretty gung-ho if I’m still riding in temperatures in the 30s!) – it should not be surprising that the faces on the bike trail are now familiar to me, and I’ve become a part of that community. How unexpected! Now, after 7 months on the canal path, the other cyclists and I exchange our acknowledgements: a nod, a hand raised from the handlebar grip, a “ciao” or “salve” (more formal) as we whiz past each other. Sometimes I’ll tuck in behind another rider and use his speed as incentive to work harder. Other times, a rider and I will sprint together and have an out-of-breath conversation as we ride, then wish each other well when we arrive at our separate routes.
Along the way I see the very hard core bike jocks on their streamlined bikes, wearing their lycra race gear. These guys are serious! Then there are the “intermediate” cyclists, still out just for the ride but not quite such jocks. I encounter the men with bikes-as-transportation getting from point A to point B, and the fishermen carrying nets and rods.
MAYBE I can count one other woman in 200 or 300 riders! Where are the women riders? Are women at home? At work? Is it considered unfeminine for a woman to be sweating and racing, pushing hard in that way? What statement is made by the absence of women on the bike trail? The city’s main outdoor gear store has a large bike section but offers next to nothing for the female cyclist. A male cyclist friend explains, “there aren’t any”.
That must be why they crane their necks as I ride by. Here in Italy, I’m an anomaly in the wheeled community, but it’s nice to be acknowledged with a rolling “ciao”.