Cyclrexic: Body Image in Cycling
*Disclaimer: While I am adamant about not covering anything to do with weight loss on this site (determined as I am to shift the conversation and focus surrounding women and fitness), I am also conscious of the importance of a real and open dialogue surrounding body image and issues that affect active women. My personal stance is to focus on the feeling that fitness gives you, but it’d be beyond naive of me to infer that aesthetics don’t play a part in everyone’s journey. I just wanted to make that clear. With that in mind, this guest post really is an excellent read – Bangs.*
Guest post by Collyn Ahart
65 kilos. Sixty-fucking-five-kilos. I’ve never weighed this much in my entire life. And of course I’m obsessing about it. I’m supposed to be some sort of athlete. For Christ’s sake, I am given kit to ride a bicycle. Sometimes even paid. In truth, I’m paid and given kit to write about riding a bike, not actually ride the thing. But one goes with the other. My success on a bike is a moot point. It doesn’t matter if I cross the line first, or indeed if I cross the line at all. The brands want me to share “the experience”. For quite some time, failure was my MO.
But not so long ago, roughly a year ago, all of that changed. I wanted to be faster. I wanted to be more competitive. I didn’t want to just write about it. The kit was making a mockery of me: looks good, but can she crank it?
I looked at the little girls on their little bikes with their cut leg muscles and 2-dimensional upper bodies. I was jealous of their speed up the hills, of how they could put out the same power as me, but about at twice the speed. I knew it was down to a power-to-weight ratio. If you weigh less, it takes less power to go fast.
I could watch my carbohydrate intake, but pushing 11 hours each weekend on the road, plus mid-week training sessions, there’s no way I can ride without some quantity of carbohydrate passing my lips. I could limit my total calories, but try telling me not to eat post-ride standing in front of the fridge door, still in lycra, scoffing back tubs of hummus… yeah right. My body needs me to eat. I’m only just becoming okay with this.
Like most women, my weight can fluctuate 2-3 kilos every month, mostly due to water retention. As a one-time lightweight rower, I grew accustomed to the early morning strip weight test. Wake up. Go to the bathroom. Wee. Strip totally naked and get on the scales. This test has the uncanny ability to tell me if the day is going to be a good or bad day. Under 60? Good day. Over 62? Bad day. But today, I step on the scales and it reads 65.2. That point-2 is important. It tells me I’m not just 65 kilos but well on my way to 66. And I’m pretty sure it’s not water weight. These are good old fashioned kilograms from muscle and fat.
But here’s the thing: I’ve never been in better shape. Just over a week ago I was hitting up to 600 watts in sprint training (that’s a lot, considering my 20 minute power averages about 230 watts). My quads are actually hard, not just when I flex, but all. the. time. I rode 250 kilometers this last Saturday and Sunday, almost half of which was on a mountain bike on singletrack. I am flying. I feel like a machine. If I ask my legs to do it, they do it. There are veins popping out on my inner thighs. I can see the veins on my calves. I feel unstoppable.
Until I step on the scales.
Bad day.
My conversations with most of my girlfriends who ride almost always go to body image. We cyclists are notoriously self-conscious, putting it all on show in lycra day-in, day-out. And all it takes to shake a seemingly confident self-image is a single ride with someone slightly smaller, lighter and faster. Splat. Straight back down to earth. At 30, as professional working women, we share dieting tips like 19 year old models. We hate our thighs. We hate our fatty arms, our unshapely ankles, our non-existent belly fat which we insist is the bane of our existence. And of course, we’re all relatively tiny. I know, rationally, there will be people reading my “65 kilos” and think that is absurdly light. But I’m rarely a rational being when it comes to body image.
And it’s worse for guys too. I’ve dated three bike racers, all of whom have been borderline anorexic. And it’s no laughing matter. My friend James described to me the ideal male cyclist look is basically, “you look sick, if someone asks you if you’re feeling alright, you look sickly and gaunt, you’re over the moon [...] no man in his right mind would want to look this way, and yet, that’s the ideal”. We even have a term for this body-weight-image obsession: “cyclerexic”.
I love cycling. It is my sport. But I just need to be honest about how it sometimes makes me (and many, many others) feel about our bodies. Cycling culture makes anorexic tendencies totally acceptable. You’re allowed to skip dinner, go to bed hungry, because it’s a good way to shed the pounds. We eat “rabbit food” diets for months at a time, living on salads, chicken breasts, steamed veg. And yet, we’ve got such warped relationships with food we’ll also chase down cake and chocolate like it’s the last food on earth. My body is a constant battlefield of frustration. When I ride, my body is enemy, just as much as it is what makes me fast.
I have a terrible relationship with food. It’s no wonder so many ex-pros pile on the weight, going from svelte whippets to lumbering balls of chub within a decade of retiring. When I look at myself in the mirror, I rarely like what I see. But I know I’m not alone, so this body-loathing is acceptable. We all do it. We all encourage it. This is truly fucked up.
I’m not supposed to say stuff like this. I’m supposed to say that cycling is brilliant. That we should all do it. That’s why I get the kit I’m given. And yes, cycling does actually promote healthy lifestyles, and most people who get into it never encounter this extreme body-loathing. But it’s hard to ignore the way we talk and feel about our bodies. I know that I may never look in the mirror and see something I like. Actually, the last time that happened, I’d come off an 8-day stage race followed by a week of extreme stomach flu. I thought I looked brilliant then. I was gaunt, sickly, and rail thin. I hadn’t eating a proper meal in over a week on a stage-race metabolism. My bike-racer boyfriend said it suited me.
Of course, this sort of body-image issue is rife across most endurance sports. Distance runners have it pretty bad, too, but I know cycling.
I’d love to say I’m going to stop getting on the scales every morning. Or that I’m going to stop worrying about my body and suddenly become transformed into this body-confident goddess full of self-love. I’m not. I’m probably going to continue beating myself up about every dinner out, every sugar craving, every mid-morning snack. But at this rate, I’m also going to keep getting faster and stronger and my leg muscles will keep getting harder. I’ll just deal with it, and probably keep wishing I was 10 kilos lighter and continue to say how much I hate my thighs. The sad thing is, I love them. I do. I love my thighs. I wish more people loved my thighs as much as I love my thighs, just so I could tell them I love my thighs, and give them permission to love their thighs, calves, arms, butts, ankles too.
You can read more of Collyn over on her site and follow her on Twitter.
Really interesting post, thanks for sharing it. I struggle with my weight a great deal, mainly as I am scared of heading back into eating disorder territory, so I am overweight, but worried about dieting as I start getting scarily obsessed with it. Bit of a cycle really.
I am sure I would run faster if I didn’t have the extra weight, but then if I don’t eat enough then I don’t have the energy to run. I really feel like I could use some help….
And I am just a very slow amateur, who feels very self concious when a photo is taken of me with my tri club mates as I am the heaviest there. I can’t imagine what the pressure must be like when you are pro.
Jen
Fantastic article. As someone who danced from the age of 3 – 25 I can really relate to this not only for myself but seeing similar perceptions of the body from those who used to dance with me. Disordered approaches to eating were the norm and often encouraged. The sad thing is that although you can stop performing or taking part in a sport you still walk away with a life long battle on your hands regarding body image and food.
I love this post. It sheds light on an issue that is common in most endurance sports, as well as ‘figure’ sports such as ice-skating.
Thought-provoking and honest… I wish more journalism aimed at women was like this. Thank you Bangs and Collyn.
Fantastic, thought provoking article, my husband switched from 30 odd years as a rugby prop to cyclist after a serious shoulder injury. Its was scary to watch how quickly his body changed, and his mindset once his bike became his new obsession. Granted he had a huge challenge of a ride coming (10 Stages of last yrs Tour) but the fixation with his shape, weight, power output etc was pretty frightening to me, and I was very conscious of how he’s behaviour looked to our 3 kids (2x girls and a boy all U10). There is fine line to be walked in all sports (indeed, in life), I wish more journalism was as honest and as open as this (and yr site in general Bangs) rather than sensationalist/ scare mongering/ celeb obsessed. As a mum and an active woman, thank you, please keep doing what you do, it’s awesome.
Thank you for this, Collyn! Great, true words that every woman—not just every female cyclist, but every woman—needs to hear. It’s hard not to think about weight in a sport where athletes are willing to spend so much money to shave ounces from their bikes. And when you burn upwards of 800 calories on a ride, you get damn hungry! And is it hard not to compare oneself to other women/riders as well as one’s younger (pre-baby) self. I confess: I obsess.
But comparison is the thief of joy.
I realized that the only photographs of myself that I like are the ones where I’m in motion. I love my body best when it is moving, doing things that feel pretty damn awesome, whether muscling up a hill or floating over a gnarly technical descent. I feel most beautiful when I am covered in sweat and mud. That is why I ride. And I find that if I keep the focus on that joy, that awe of what my body can do — and not on the calories I can burn in a ride — I have a lot more “good” days than “bad.” (On the scale, and in life.)
Great job for putting yourself out there, Collyn. I love your guts. And your thighs!
Great read, so honest and brutal! My dad is a passionate amateur cyclist and has been for 50 years. He is currently going through a thin phase and I worry about him when I see him… then I look at Bradley Wiggins and think, that’s normal for cyclists
Dad is scarily fit but doesn’t eat well and I wonder how he manages to keep going. He dragged me up some hills over Christmas and while i was dying on my pedals, he was tootling along beside me like it was the easiest thing in the world. I’m in awe of his fitness and years of experience, but he is just not healthy in any other sense of the word.
I’ve been running and cycling regularly for about 6 months now. I’ve had a crap body image for years but am just getting comfortable with myself, and this is because I love what my body can do as much as what it looks like.
I’m at my heaviest in months, I’ve put on 4lbs in muscle (a lot on a small 5 foot girl who weighs heavy to start with!) but I’ve dropped at least one size in jeans. I still have wobbly bits too but yes, I LOVE MY THIGHS TOO! I LOVE MY BUM EVEN MORE!!
I love this article, thank you so much for posting.
I am a long distance runner (currently training for a marathon, and aiming for under 3hours 30) and I feel like it is a constant battle to eat enough to perform well against the feeling of knowing you are losing weight and thus, running faster.
I already have a pretty low body fat percentage (18.5), and yet I feel like if it was that bit lower I could shift a couple of minutes from my times. I know I am never going to be a Paula look-a-like, nor would I really like to be (I don’t think…) but I am driven by being the best I can be, and this has meant that having the right body is playing a major part in that.
Thank you for posting this, it has really touched a nerve and I am glad I am not the only one. Even though I knew wasn’t, not really.
I am an ex-model, beauty journalist and keen mountain biker – not surprisingly, I can relate to every word you have written!
I used to weigh myself everyday and the result would pretty much govern my mood for the rest of the morning. The best thing I ever did was pick up in the scales and throw them in the bin. It felt ridiculously difficult to do at the time, but aside from being weighed for medical purposes (pregnancy) I have rarely stepped on a pair of scales since (interestingly my weight has stayed constant – completely opposite to what I expected!). It is a liberation (if only I could do the same thing with the bathroom mirror!).
As I’m sure we’re all aware, body weight is not an accurate measure of your efficiency as an athlete, nor is BMI. When I had my body composition analysed by a personal trainer I was told I would need to gain 2kg of muscle in order to function at my athletic best – so in fact it could be that you need to be heavier, not lighter!
Second – We’re all worth much more than a figure on a scale or a distance ridden or calories consumed. There is a type of person (and I know this because I am one of them!) who needs to know when to put down the ‘I must improve’ stick and recognise that this could be a wider issue to do with fear of losing control, of not being good enough, or being found lacking. I hope this isn’t the case for you: but I know this destructive element certainly looms large at the back of my mind.
Try 88kilo in a kit. In Hawaii. I am struggling, too. Love my bike but feel like the Michelin Man when I’m riding. Have cut out white flour for fake Lent. I’m a fake Catholic, so I can. Want to see if I can live without really delicious pasta and breads. So far, not too bad. Discovering whole grains. Trying to keep drinking wine. Riding tonight. Time trial on Sunday. Someday I’ll be trim again.
Thank you. I need to touch base with women who ride and brave the spandex despite our soft and creamy underbelly.
How about we focus on the fit, and the strong? Not the thin? I am strong. Period. I love my strong body. I can be thin when I’m dead.
Well said. So agree.
AMEN SISTER
I’m sorry, i don’t think this is a great article. I don’t think we should brush eating problems under the carpet (as this is what we are talking about here as well as image), but this should not be written about like it is ‘ok, we all have it’ either.
As you say, you get free kit, you have to do publicity. Thus you HAVE to look good in your kit. You have an OBLIGATION to look great and ‘pro’ in those moody videos that Rapha so love.
To suggest that all sporty women have image issues is absolute nonsense.
Shame on you for stating that your problems are widespread amongst women, without any real evidence or real research. Don’t forget, the Rapha cycling club is not truely representative of women who cycle. It represents the elite who can afford their kit – oh yes, you get yours free don’t you?!
This is why it is best to approach sport because you enjoy a sport. Who cares what you look like. Get over that mental barrier and frankly who cares what you look like in lycra. The problem sports women have is the b1tching that goes on looking at each other up and down, rather than celebrating all shapes and sizes and at least the motivation to get on a bike and enjoy it.
Shame on you Collyn.
They say not to read comments. But it’s hard not to. Honesty means putting your name out there and taking a risk with saying what needs to be said. My honesty was not for you. It was for the people who needed it.
im sorry, but i find this blog kinda disturbing. never have i skipped a dinner to “make weight”…and putting it into other girls heads that this is normal cyclist behavior is kinda screwed up. before i was a cyclist, i was the natural t-rex build and i like this sport bc finally it’s a place that accepts me for having big thighs/legs and empowers me to feel ok about that. everyone has body image issues, but glorifying and sharing stories about how to cut calories in an unhealthy manner is not my idea of a good healthy article…not once did I hear how she’s delt with her demons and conquered them. all i hear is that if tomorrow if she steps on the scale and it’s over 60 kilos, it’s a bad day.
@Jacqueline, are you suggesting that we are only allowed to write about our demons once we have conquered them? Isn’t that rather a dishonest way of presenting our experiences? It’s lovely if you’ve never felt criticised for your body shape but maybe you shouldn’t assume that your experience is everyone’s normal.
Collyn’s attitude to food and weight isn’t my attitude but I am grateful that she shares her experience honestly. What I do share is the pressure to make reality fit the image. When I’m out in my super smart kit I worry that I will get found out for not being a ‘proper cyclist’, because I can’t ride far enough, fast enough. Which is why I mostly ride alone and am completely terrified of even turning up at one of Collyn’s Regent’s Park beginners rides in case I get laughed at by all the other women. It doesn’t help that every single woman I know who rides is a total badass. Still working on that demon, mostly by Training Hard…
Sure talk about them. But she’s still saying shes going to have a bad day if she steps on the scale and it’s not what she wants to see. That doesn’t sound like conquering any demons and infact sounds like she’s telling others that if they dont see that number too, then something is wrong with them. I don’t think there is one woman out there that hasn’t ever been critized for a body image issue. But again, I don’t hear how she’s dealing with it in a healthy way and sharing it with women…that’s what I’d like to read. I’d like to read, I’m healthy and eat to fuel my body and make my legs stronger or I might weigh more than the girl who’s next to me but I’m still beating her up a hill.
Thanks for sharing this honest account of the often contradicting relationship between sport, body image and food. I can relate to much of what you say. Performing in my sport is how I make my living although this hasn’t always been the case. When I started out I would say my relationship with food was unhealthy: I considered eating as negating the benefits I got from doing sport. I now can see this is completely stupid – thankfully as I wouldn’t be able to train as hard as I do if I had continued to think like that. If I want my body to perform I have to treat it right. Eating the right things before, during and after exercise. It took a coach to teach me that eating more would actually make me faster, leaner, and healthier and prevent the late night raids from the biscuit tin.
I love sport. And I love food. The two are not mutually exclusive. I have learnt to love my body for what it can do. It hasn’t always been the case and of course I have days when I wish my thighs were a bit smaller,or my shoulders were a bit narrower so I could fit into the “average” fit of clothes. But, then I don’t want to be average. I like riding my bike hard and running hard and I’m not going to stop doing that for any pair of jeans. I’ve thrown away my scales as I got fed up of a number dictating how I feel.
Also, as an aside, I would add that this is an issue for men and women in sport. Sometimes I think my male colleagues have more hang ups than the women.
Great, honest article and some great replies. As an overweight middle aged bloke who has always cycled and did get a ‘bit’ into image years ago all I can say is: cycling has a dangerous narcissistic edge to it. I see it every day on the faces and kit of people just commuting to work (for god’s sake). I’ve taken the opposite stance now — I deliberatley don’t wear proper kit and lycra and specced my commute bike down to a low single speed. I guess what I’m trying to say is – -don’t go down this route of misery. It’s like seeing the ever thinner utterly miserable fashion models in Vogue. Awful. Ride with a smile and take your time. You’re not in TDF (really). Stop for a cake and a coffee when you’re out for a ride. Enjoy it.
As an endurance runner who has struggled on/off with both anorexia and bulimia I have to say good on you Collyn for raising the issue and putting it out there, as it is so often brushed under the carpet. Very often in sports that favour a low bodyweight like running, cycling or ice skating a climate of disordered eating and excessive exercise is so ‘normalised’ it is seen as a part of the sport, rather than a disorder with potentially dangerous consequences such as the female athelte triad (although men are greatly affected too; this is just an example). Ironically the day I ran a massive pb in a big race, one of my teammates came up to me and basically yelled at me to sort my life out because I clearly had problems. Not to mention the fact that my family and friends were all saying I looked really ill and run down at the time. Now I am doing better, over a stone heavier and binge/purging a lot less but haven’t reached those dizzying ‘pb’ heights again.
I disagree with the poster that advised you had to have conquered your demons to be writing about them, however I think putting in your precise weight, especially without height was ill advised. Numbers like this are massively triggering and allow your mind to make even more comparisons against others, than just their performances, and implying that over 62 is a bad day does subconsciously imply it is ‘too much’. Remember that it is very likely that a lot of the women and men reading this article may be as disordered in terms of food/weight as yourself, if not more so, and so wouldn’t take this figure in a rational context. Kudos for raising the issue though.
Thanks, and good point, I’m 5’5.
Hi Collyn,
Thank you for a great article. I too have struggled with the numbers on the scales. I’m an intelligent women but I still seek validation in some arbitrary number. I went from being a ballet dancer to a crossfitter, so of course those numbers on the scales went up! I’ve probably gained about 3kgs, in the past year and even though my clothes fit better, and I’m probably actually smaller (replaced some of that fat with muscle) in some places, I still get a bit anxious about those numbers. I’m trying to break a habit of weighing myself everyday and hopefully that will help sort out my head.
I’m thankful that my mother managed to instill in me some good eating habits and food views. I love eating and cooking and see cycling as a great way to maintain a high food intake (and enjoy cake). My good habits mean that there are always good and healthy bike snacks around but I don’t feel any guilt about chowing down on a whole bunch of fatty/sugary snacks either. I have a healthy relationship with my body image (my problems with self lie elswhere) and it makes me really sad that so many women out there feel pressured to be something that may not be healthy. You don’t have to have the problem to be able to see, empathise and understand. What the naysayers don’t realise that whilst Collyns piece may not provide answers it gives other women the chance to see that they are not alone and hopefully give them the courage to seek help whether it be medical or just to talk to a friend.
Thank you for publishing this article. I’m 15 years old, and I have done ballet since the age of four. A year and a half ago I took up cycling as my Dad has always been a keen cyclist, and I love it. However, for about a year now I have been making myself sick after eating and I hate my body. I try to skip lunch every day and try and control my eating as much as I can, but this of course leads to binge eating. The bulimia varies: some times it’s every day, sometimes I manage for weeks without it. It’ so stupid and I know it’s the worst way of dealing with trying to lose weight but I just can’t not do it… My weight fluctuates, last year I was down to 43kgs at one point, but after parental pressure to be more healthy I weigh more like 47-48kgs. I am 5’3″. Though I love to dance, I hate going to dance as a cyclist, I feel like my legs and hips are too big in comparison to my fellow dancers. There’s nowhere to hide in a leotard and tights. I know that the standard of my cycling performance drops when I don’t eat an adequate diet, but I can’t seem to bring myself out of this. It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone, not abnormal- at least in the world of endurance sports. The worst thing is, when I feel myself getting better and have not made myself sick in a while, I miss it. I don’t personify it- bulimia is not my ‘friend’. I just feel very nervous and experience minor anxiety at the prospect of gaining weight, thus I feel the need to start making myself sick again.
Hey Beth,
I just came across your comment. I am really sorry to hear this. You’re not abnormal, but I do really hope you find the courage and support to get some advice and help to move into a better space emotionally with your body. I have personally been injured for the last 2 months and unable to do much more than stretch. I have put on weight and gotten a bit flabby, but you know what? I feel fine. I miss cycling, but I don’t mind how I look. I don’t mind how I feel. You’re young, and this is the time in your life your body needs good nutrition most. Please be courageous and put the scales away. Food is neither an enemy nor a friend, it’s just food. I suffered from anxiety when I graduated university and found some professional help to get me through it – and it got me through it, I saw a counsellor and went on some mild medication for about a year. Leotards are terrifying, but the pressure you’re putting on yourself is even worse. Your imperfections are what make you spectacular. Your flaws are going to be what make you extraordinary. If you need someone to talk to, please get in touch with me via Bangs and I’d be more than happy to skype, or chat on facebook. You are probably stunningly beautiful both inside and out, and your strength is what is going take you places, not the number on a scale. I wrote this article not to condone the kind of behaviour so many of us partake in, rather just to acknowledge that it exists and point out that it isn’t healthy. Media put so much pressure on us to look good – it seems it’s our most important job to do. But I promise you, they are wrong. I’m 30 now, and when I was your age I struggled with my body too, but I seriously think you should talk to your parents or your GP if you’re actually struggling with bulimia. It’s not just unhealthy, it’s actually a very real illness for which there is treatment. Be strong, have courage. There are people – including myself – who are there for you if you need a friend to chat with. x collyn