Marianne Martin: What Should Have Been

I am very happy that the Women's National Basketball Association is finally getting at least some of the attention it deserves--even if it took a heterosexual Great White Hope to get it.  As much as I like Caitlin Clark, her ascendancy begs this question:  Who will get more commercial endorsements, she or Brittney Griner?

That said, I am also happy to see the success of other women's sports, particularly tennis and soccer.  Both, I believe, have developed identities distinct from those of the men's games:  Tennis has had female players (like Billie Jean King, Martina Navratilova and Serena Williams) who could beat most men, and female footballers had the advantage of not only being great, but also of not having to compete with men (at least in North America) for attention.

Once upon a time, women's cycling was like that, at least in the US.  From the mid-70's through the '80's, a generation of great American female riders won medals and accolades, though not a lot of money.  Unfortunately, time has not been kind to some of them: Mary Jane "Miji" Reoch was killed during a training ride.  Rebecca Twigg has fallen into homelessness. And now Marianne Martin has suffered a horrible crash that has left her with multiple injuries and a lot of pain.

If you're not yet in, ahem, midlife or a cycling fan, I can understand why you haven't heard about Ms. Martin.  But four decades ago, she shared the podium with Laurent Fignon, Bernard Hinault and Greg LeMond.

That year, Hinault achieved the fourth of his five Tour de France General Classification victories.  He would win his fifth the following year.  Fignon won the two previous Tours; a year after Hinault's final victory, Le Mond would win the first of his three Tour titles.  

So why was Marianne Martin on that stage? Well, she won the first edition of the Tour de France Feminin. Maria Canins of Italy and France's Jeanne Longo would finish first and second, respectively, in the 1985 and 1986 races; they would trade places for the last three TdFFs in  1987, 1988 and 1989.

In short, Marianne Martin was one of the most accomplished cyclists in the world. But her moment, like those of Reoch, Twigg and other members of that “Golden Generation” of American female cyclists (who included, among others, Connie Carpenter, Sue Novara and Sue Young) was all too brief. Some would argue that Greg LeMond’s Tour wins, and victories by other male American riders, overshadowed the women’s accomplishments. That’s true mainly because men’s sports garner so much more attention and sponsorship money.  Another reason why women’s racing dropped off the radar has to do, I believe, with attitudes about women in sports.

While there was arguably less gender inequality in American sports than in those of other countries, the distressing fact is that even in the US, female athletes got attention for things that had nothing to do with their athletic accomplishments. For all that she did on a bike, Twigg was noticed as much, or more, for her looks. In Europe, the center of bike racing, the situation was even worse: female riders often gained more fame, however fleeting, (or not-so-fleeting notoriety) for posing rather than pedaling.

Sex indeed sells, but only for so long. So does scandal. Ms. Martin did not generate, however inadvertently, the hype or hysteria of other athletes: She wasn’t even brushed with accusations of doping, as Longo has been.

Thus, riding her bike and being (as far as anyone knows) a good citizen was not enough to keep Marianne in the public eye. It took a horrible crash—caused, according to official accounts, over-correcting on the sort of high-speed turn she made hundreds, possibly thousands, of times before—to bring notice to her in a time when—I hope—women’s sports is ready taking its rightful place in the public’s view.

Taking Action—What kind?

 He takes his bike to work

and I went to Harvard—where I bought an overpriced sweatshirt.

We Won’t Stop. But We Need More

 When I crashed and was “doored” three months apart, people asked me whether I considered giving up cycling. 

That was four years ago. I’d been riding practically all of my life and a dedicated cyclist for nearly half a century. My response then is the same as the one I’d give now: “No!”

I therefore understand Jakob Morales’ assertion that he will continue to cycle as his primary means of transportation, even after being slammed by a hit-and-run driver in his hometown of Indianapolis. “I was on the bike the next day, so you can’t stop me,” he declared.

It’s as if he’d been answering the question I was asked. For all I know, someone may have asked him. But his testimony underscores something he said in response to hearing about his city’s plans to extend protected bike lanes on a major thoroughfare. It’s good, he said, but not enough. A careless or aggressive driver can literally get away with murder unless the incident is caught on camera. In Morales’ case, it was his own camera that recorded the impact, which shattered the driver’s windshield.

Fortunately for him, he came away with only a couple of scratches. But the fact that he just happened to have that device on his helmet may be what prevented the driver’s liability from being turned into blame against Morales.

And that, to him, is one of the issues his city needs to address. “It shouldn’t take a $500 camera to capture their information and hunt them down,” he says of drivers like the one who struck him.

And we shouldn’t have to live in fear—or have to answer the question of whether we’ll continue to ride.