missing july...and the rapha cycle club

People were out in lawn chairs, grills and coolers set out along with friends and lovers as the bus lurched and chugged past Pelham Bay Park; and as I looked out the window, I thought it almost odd that, for possibly the first time in my life, I am looking forward to the end of summer.
Odd because for any cyclist, the summer is definitive of, well, cycling. The more competitive time it just right, to peak at whatever optimal time they’ve chosen, the more laid-back take advantage of the long daylight hours to ride until 9pm, and everyone spends July - my birth month, coincidentally - talking, watching, and obsessing over the Tour. Everything buzzes during the summer - on and off the bike - and doped up on Vitamin D, able to ride without multiple layers and/or beards, everyone seems that much happier.
But I’m still looking forward to the end of it all. Because I’m going to miss it.

Yeah, I know, there will be other Tours. There will be other summers spent watching recorded stages on various couches, shrieking at the screen or asking incessant questions about the racers. There will be summers where I can build up miles and hours spent in the saddle and go on lazy, random, evening rides. Yeah, summer’s still going to come around once this one’s done, I know. But there is something I’m going to miss, and even the fear fueled by a test meant to kick my ass and put my brain through a blender for three days isn’t doing anything for the disappointment I’ve been feeling about this one.
I’m referring, of course, to the NYC Rapha Cycle Club.
A pop-up shop meant to open [officially] on July 3rd, with an invite-only party on the 1st, it’s been talked about since what feels like forever ago. And with the official press release email going out last Wednesday, I felt justified in visiting the new space on Bowery this past weekend on a long overdue trip to NYC.
Not that I asked Rapha if I could visit the space, or go inside, or talk to the [super nice] guys that are working on getting it ready. Neither did I really have authorization to do any of the above from Portland. But maybe implied permission isn’t so much of a stretch when your boyfriend happens to be the newly hired Manager of the Rapha Cycle Club.

I remember this time last summer, talking about bikes and design and everything else in a small apartment on the Lower East Side. Mike jokingly said that we should ask Jeremy how to land his job, “but in New York.” I think I said that I’d fight him for it. Fast forward a year, and Mike seems to have managed - albeit temporarily - just that. Since the beginning of the month, he’s been telling me about the new space, what it’s going to look like, and even the potential list of scheduled events. And in between Contracts and Criminal Law, I wished I could be there.

Not that I’m going to miss it all [the pop-up shop is open through September]. But the party I somehow managed to officially get invited to, and the month of July is time that I’ve resigned myself to miss. Given that books have mostly replaced bikes by this point [other than my commute, I’ve gone on one measly hour-long ride in the past three weeks], I’m almost too busy to be disappointed. Or at least that’s what Mike’s been telling me, in a sweetly considerate attempt to divert my focus from all the awesome stuff he’s currently putting together with the rest of the Rapha crew. But that doesn’t mean all this stuff isn’t going to happen. It is. But hey, what can I do, right?
Which is one reason why, if you live in the city or make weekend trips down there, you should check it out. With a coffee bar, TVs, and a giant table to just hang out around, it’s slated to be more than just a retail shop peddling its wares for a few months. Rapha Continental riders will be there, I’m sure, as well as limited edition somethings, and if that’s not enough for you, I’ll be there in August, too.
But really, that should be more than enough. So unless you’ve got a bar exam or two to take, do me a favor [pretty, pretty please], and don’t miss July at the Rapha Cycle Club.

drawing new [tan] lines

“Nice size 36 shorts,” Mike said as he tugged on the back of my jeans shorts. The waist gaped open.
With a little wiggling, I probably could have slipped out of them without undoing the fly, but convinced that a wash would cure it all [I’m pretty sure it didn’t], I insisted that they were just a little stretched out. Besides, being a little too big for me also meant that the legs were a little longer. Almost long enough to cover my tan line.

“Is that your tan line?”
“...Yeahhh...Wow. Damn. Yours are so nice.” Jared had pulled up his shorts and pressed his thigh next to mine.
“Well, someone’s gotta be!” He laughed as I protested that my shorts were not optimal for clean-tan-line-creating. Andy just shook his head and told me that I had to ride more.
Which is true. But, in a way, I’m still sort of convinced that my Pearl Izumi Sugar Shorts aren’t going to give me the kind of tan line that makes your thigh look like it was taped off, then spray painted with tanning lotion. Being a touch too big, the padding would sometimes catch on my seat, making me stumble awkwardly. Despite the gripper elastic, the legs would creep up during my ride, too, blurring that melatonin tattoo attesting to solid time in the saddle. Never mind my jeans shorts, I needed new cycling shorts stat.

Enter Capo to the rescue. After seeing the review of the Cortina jersey, the super nice guys at Capo offered to send me a matching pair of shorts. I wanted to virtually hug them.
Let me back up. Having worn the jersey on more than a handful of occasions, even without extensive jersey experience, I can say that it is definitely super comfortable. The pockets are made of full Lycra, and while there are only two, they’re deceptively deep. Extremely soft and form fitting, there’s no flap-age, reducing the jersey to something you just don’t have to think about while you’re riding. It even passed Coach DS’s zipper test [if you can unzip it with one hand easily - no biting the collar allowed!], and the guys appreciated the attention to detail, like how the label isn’t just screened onto the Lycra. Even my fairly critical, style-conscious sister commented on how nice it looked.

All this meant that I had high expectations for the shorts. I mean, I know they’re going to look good; but Capo’s set the bar high in terms of functionality as well. When I received them, I jumped out of my jeans and immediately tried them on. The first thing I noticed was the segmented padding [ignore how phallic it looks, please], which meant the Diaper Effect was significantly reduced. The padding is comparable in thickness to my Pearl Izumis but it felt sleeker and more efficient. No more feeling like I was sitting on a Maxipad - we’re in tampon territory with these babies.

Not to mention the crossover waistband that is a godsend to those with Lycra muffin tops. It’s so thin, too, that there’s virtually no visible line under the jersey...and that jersey doesn’t hide much. My only initial doubts stemmed from the elastic around the legs; instead of gripper elastic, the shorts use a thin, slightly stretch-resistant compression elastic. The shorts clutched onto my keirin thighs and I wasn’t sure if I was going to lose circulation in my toes as a result.
But like the jersey it matches, the shorts look really good. It's dark enough that you don't have to worry about looking chubbier than you are [and what woman wants that when she's in full Lycra?], and in a weird way it almost deludes you into believing - truly believing - that you're bringing sexy back [to the bike]. Maybe I was just in a good mood, though.

But potential sexiness aside, I was concerned about how it would stand up to a decent ride. So I suited up and clipped in to drag the Cross Monster out on an easy 30 miler.
When I sat down on the saddle, my first thought was, weirdly enough, that it was slippery. The next thought was that I could definitely feel the saddle underneath me, a lot more than when I’m wearing my other shorts. Not in a bad way; I was just more conscious of it. There was no need to rock back and forth trying to figure out where my sit bones went. For once, I knew exactly where they were and I had them right where I wanted them.
To be honest, after those first two revelations, I hardly noticed what I was wearing for most of the ride and had to force myself to concentrate on whatever signals my butt was sending to my brain. The one thing that really stood out, though, is that these shorts will not budge. The compression elastic around the legs that I wasn’t so sure about wasn’t uncomfortable or distracting while riding; in fact, they held everything down and refused to creep up. There was no adjusting or pulling down because white skin was emerging from the bottom of my shorts. Unless I forcibly pulled them up or down, those things weren’t moving. At all.

Which meant that when I came home tired and happy, and peeled off my gear, the longer Capo shorts had already left a sharp, clear tan line. Like the kind that looks comically fake but has turned into a point of pride for those of us who are obsessed with bicycles. Never mind the fact that my thighs now legitimately look like candy corn, and that mini skirts might be out of the question for the rest of the summer. Those shorts are going to make me look pro, even without clothes on.
And really, what more can a girl [on a bike] ask for?

a jersey with boobs

So you know how a few weeks back I posted about the dearth of women’s jerseys without the flowers and all that other lame shit all over it? Well, a bunch of you suggested a bunch of different brands, and naturally I checked them all out.
But one...one stood out.
I thought I had my heart set on the Castelli Magnifica jersey: full zip, lightweight for summer, came in a predominately white color scheme which led me to think that maybe I won’t die of dehydration wearing it, and was just a touch over my expected budget of $150. But then Andy led me to Capo’s website, where I was immediately sold on a white jersey that was not only cheaper but came with boobs...!

Okay, not really, but...how clever. My best friend taught me this trick of framing boobs with a darker color to get them to pop out, and while I’ve never had the balls to execute it, it’s stuck in my mind since. Black is the shade of choice for many women because of it’s flattening effect: it hides the shadows that might protrude from unsightly curves like a muffin top or a tummy. That’s all and well when you’re at a black tie event, but on the bike, if you’re going faster than 5mph for more than 10min, black essentially spells death by dehydration.
But white...so pro, and yet so difficult for women to wear...! White basically takes any curves you have and blows them up by 60%, unless said curves are your boobs, in which case they’re deflated by 45%. So while you might avoid heat stroke in a white jersey, you get to look like a walrus squeezed into sausage casing. If you have broader shoulders like me, they get accentuated by 33%, rendering you into a fatter version of the Hulk on a bicycle. What to do?

Enter Capo’s Cortina jersey [$130]. When I first clicked on it, I expected to see yet another typical white and red jersey. But some genius at Capo has understood the basic concept of adding black accents in all the right places. This means that even if you have nonexistent boobs like me, you don’t have to depend on clever angling and shadow to create an illusion of a rack. BECAUSE CAPO DID IT FOR YOU, ALREADY.
Genius. Really. I can’t imagine what this jersey could do for those ladies who have extant mammary glands. But, that’s not to say that this is the cure-all jersey that’ll keep everything in while lifting other things up and together. Thin and clingy, it fits like a second skin. And being white, that means you don’t get to hide much elsewhere. But fuck me if that thing doesn’t look sharp.

Luckily, I had also ordered the Castelli Leggera vest [$50]. In white, of course. Paper thin but wind and water resistant, it breathed in the right places and appropriately refused to creep up or budge on my ride. It’s fitted enough but keeps things modest, and a little self conscious about my own winter muffin top, I layered it over the jersey yesterday. When I took it off, I experienced the joy of balling it up and cramming it into my jersey pocket. Because apparently that’s what you’re supposed to do; you’re not supposed to cram your Patagonia jacket under your jersey and head home looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Because that looks retarded, even on me.
So while I’m hesitant to get into the functionality of either the vest or jersey - they still smell new! - I did get a fair amount of appreciative looks yesterday. Which is the only thing we women care about, anyway. Just kidding! No, but if you’re in the market for a women’s jersey made with boobs in mind, do check out the Capo Cortina.
And if you order from Competitive Cyclist, take it from me that the people who work there are the nicest people around. Seriously. Not only did they call me because I was a dumbass and made a mistake when I entered my credit card info, they also pronounced my name right. And let me tack that jersey onto my original order.
Seriously <3 them. Now go stalk their site and get yourself or your loved one the most ingenious jersey I’ve found so far. Go go go.

coffee and the city

I had it all planned out. A day off Friday, an easy ride Saturday, another rest day Sunday while I traveled back to Boston, and then back on the bike for real on Monday.
Funny how things never turn out like you plan ‘em.
Saturday was bordering on cold but sunny enough and Mike suggested a quick 25 miler to Cloisters. I’ve never been so I happily agreed...that is, until my uterus was like oh, hello, it’s that time of month! Which wouldn’t have been much of an issue if it hadn’t driven home that point by making my lower back so stiff it felt uncomfortable to even sit.

Yes, I am fully aware that I will probably end up being the bitchiest pregnant person alive if or when that happens.
Anyway, so I spent the morning arguing with my lower back and my reproductive organs while Mike did the ride. After a handful or so of chocolate chips, I was feeling a little better [funny how chocolate has that effect, huh?], so we meandered through the city on a lazy afternoon mission.
But of course, first there had to be coffee. We stopped by the first NYC location of Cafe La Colombe. A simple yet open space with clean decor and bike-friendly baristas, Mike got his Ira Ryan hat photographed while we waited for our Americanos. The atmosphere is hip and cool without being overly pretentious, and while the espresso lacked the punch of Cafe Fixe’s Americanos, it was the perfect accompaniment to a lazier, more laid back afternoon jaunt.

A few blocks further into Tribeca and we were at our destination: Adeline Adeline. A few weeks ago, I had heard a rumor or two about this shop; a specialty bike store that caters to the urban leisure cyclist. On the floor were bikes by Pashley, Abici, Linus, and a Batavus with Sram on it. Wicker baskets of varying sizes, pannier bags catered with the more stylish cyclist in mind, and the obligatory Brooks saddles were smartly displayed in a bike shop that managed to set itself apart.

It’s a cool space, and one that I would patronize for a smart, sturdy city bike with all the bells and whistles. The accessories alone are worth a visit, especially if you have a thing for baskets and pretty bells.
Only time will tell if I’ll ever be able to afford a city bike in New York City, but when I’m ready to get one, it’s good to know where I’d go.

being sold short

Dear sirs [and I mean sirs] in the cycling industry,
I am a 26 year old female law student who is in love with bicycles. I commute to school in all kinds of weather, sweat it out on the rollers in the winter, and ride outdoors every chance I get. I’ve grown accustomed to the sweaty rides, messy hair, and the image in the mirror when I manage to squeeze myself into Lycra. Arguments could be made that I’ve completely let myself go. However, like most women, I still want to look good while I’m pushing those pedals.
When I got wind of Rapha’s new women’s line, a [male] source told me that it was “only” going to be a pair of shorts, a jersey, and a jacket.
“Only?,” I responded, “at least they’re making some women’s stuff!”

I think he shrugged in response, or possibly nodded. I was excited, and couldn’t see why my source expected me to be disappointed at the limited nature of the new line. What I failed to realize then was that my own statement was an admission that, since I’ve started cycling, I’ve gotten far too used to selling myself short.
In an industry where most of the consumers are male, it’s not surprising that women are asked to take a backseat. I understand market demand and enough economic concepts to realize that asking every bicycle company to devote half of their resources into development of women’s specific gear/bicycles/accessories borders on the insane. But there’s a big middle that you guys are missing here, and I’m pretty sure the women are getting restless.
Take a look at Competitive Cyclist [a site I frequent because I know they only carry quality products]. There are 7 jackets/vests listed for women, under 5 brands. Compare that to the 35 jackets/vests listed for men, under 10 brands. At 39 for men vs. 29 for women, the split for short-sleeved jerseys is marginally better; but the latter also includes 9 sleeve-less jerseys. Sure, tank tops are great for hot summer rides, but you can’t legally race without sleeves.
Yes, there are brands like Terry and Luna Gear who only cater to women, and that’s great. But just because I’m a girl, doesn’t mean I want to always look like one when I’m drenched in sweat and struggling. Besides, how am I supposed to be taken somewhat seriously with flowers festooned on my back, chest, and shoulders? It’s bad enough when the only [road] bike that comes in my size also includes some terrible vector graphics of hibiscuses...why do I have to be forced to wear the same print all over my body?

Given this dearth of women’s cycling gear without the pink, the too-bright colors, or the rounded standing collars that make me look like a linebacker, I’m prone to jumping up and down happily when any company decides to produce some stuff for the fairer sex. But when you compare the options available to men, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that the industry has consistently thrown us [women] a bone, with the mild expectation that we should be happy with whatever meager offerings we get.
And you know what? That’s insulting. It’s insulting that I’m expected to be happy with it, and it’s insulting that I’ve come to accept this as a given. I’m far from unique; there must be hundreds [if not thousands] of women out there who love to ride, who will eagerly open their wallets for gear that flatters but doesn’t simultaneously dumb down, that looks sharp but affords all the technical aspects the guys get in at least 10 different forms. And you are - for the most part - ignoring us.
That said, I’ll probably drop a pretty penny on some Castelli gear later this week, and resist the temptation to forcibly adopt running gear to work on the bike [but with Lululemon around, it’s hard to resist]. But, it did take me two weeks to find a jersey I think I might be happy with, and there’s no guarantee that other women aren’t just giving up. Or worse, settling for being content with something that should be expected of good cycling gear.
Female cyclists are a tough bunch. But being human [and female], we sell ourselves short in too many other areas of our lives; we shouldn’t have to do the same every time we get dressed for a bike ride.
Give us the credit we’re due. You may be surprised at what it might do for you, too.
Sincerely, Kaiko S.

rain = vicarious retail therapy

Ughhhhhhhhhhh soooooooooo windy out. UGHHHHHHHHHHH.
Yeah, I am currently a whine-fest, but I really love how the week after I meet with my faux-ch, it rains for most of the week. I mean, nevermind that I’m swamped with work and I couldn’t get out to ride anyway...how am I supposed to hit my 100+ miles/week goal at this rainy rate?
Well, in other news, my leg is starting to feel okay. When I told DS that my hamstring’s been killing me for the past two weeks, he informed me that my body was just adjusting to the bike. As in, HTFU. Hilarious.
With the weather being like it is, I honestly didn’t have much to post about...until, flipping through pictures taken this weekend, I found a picture of these:

Women’s Sidi MTB Dominator 5. Red. Hot. Incredibly hot.
The one on display was my size [I think God’s trying to tell me and/or my credit card something], so I couldn’t resist trying them on. They’re the first MTB shoes I’ve tried and holy shit can you say comfortable?! My toes weren’t pointing up like they do with my road shoes and I could sort of walk normally. PLUS THEY’RE RED. I'm still regretting not spending the money I don't have on these! [FYI, Sidi, I wouldn't mind if you sent me a pair of these, you know, just because.]
With my luck, some luckier girl is going to walk out with that same pair next week. But that’s okay; I’m telling myself that despite how incredibly sexy they are, they won’t match either of my bikes, nor would I be able to do longer rides with SPD pedals, anyway. Still...don’t they look good on me?!
And if shoes don’t excite you on this otherwise dreary day, how’s a sick Geekhouse ‘cross bike for you? This baby is now sitting pretty in NYC Velo; Marty himself even brought it from Boston. Which is a good thing, because it’s something like a 56cm [don’t quote me on that], and Andy actually asked me if I could bring it down with me this past weekend. I’m not sure if he wanted me to strap it to my back or actually try to ride it, but both would have resulted in a destroyed Geekhouse by yours truly.

Granted, it would have been funny to watch, but I’m pretty sure both Marty and Andy would have killed me.
Okay that’s all I got for you on this seriously shitty hump day. Vicarious retail therapy. Speaking of which...anyone have any short-sleeve jersey recommendations?