When I rode with the Central Jersey Bicycle Club, more than four decades ago, not many women were dedicated cyclists. Save for one who was, probably, close to the age I am now*, they were usually accompanied by boyfriends or husbands.
In most couples, the male cyclist spent much of the ride “drafting” his partner: He rode a few meters ahead of her so she could pedal in the slipstream. There was, however, one couple who “flipped the script.” At first—being young and not knowing otherwise—I thought he followed because he liked looking at her from the rear. (Hate me, if you will, for saying this: I couldn’t blame him.) After a few rides, though, I realized she was the stronger cyclist.
I thought about them, for the first time in ages, when I saw this:
*—I was less surprised by her skill and dedication than I was by her husband, who seemed completely sedentary.
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