Till Rides Do Us Apart—Or Not

 

Photo by Everton Vila

Yesterday, during my bike commute, I saw a man and woman—he, on a Canyon, she, on a Cannondale—pedaling down Creston Avenue, a narrow Bronx thoroughfare that parallels the Grand Concourse. They seemed about as equally matched in their pace and durability as their bikes: one didn’t seem to outpace the other.

Later, I got to thinking about how rare, at least ini my observation, such cycling couples are. When I have ridden with clubs, it seemed that cyclists’ spouses or partners rode with family or some other group that wasn’t connected to the club—or not all.  In fact, I can recall only three or four “marriages” (whether de jure or de facto) in which both members participated in the same rides and kept apace of each other. That I didn’t see same-sex couples may’ve been a consequence of the times and places in which I joined club rides.

I have never trekked, trained or raced with a boyfriend or other intimate male partner. But I have been accompanied by girlfriends and long-term partners. Only one—Tammy, my last romantic partner before I started my gender affirmation—did much cycling before we met. And I suspect she is the only one who continued after we broke up.

One long-ago paramour, Jeanne, gave her bike away after we split up.  I suspect she wanted to get rid of it because it brought us together in the first place: I fitted it to her when she bought it from Highland Park (NJ) Cyclery, where I worked.

 I wouldn’t be surprised if the other girls/women similarly parted with—or discarded or sold—bikes I gave them.  Upset as I may have been, I can understand why, apart from not wanting things that would remind them of me, they didn’t want to keep the Motobecanes, Miyatas and other machines I gifted them. Before meeting me, they did little or no riding once they got their driver’s licenses, and perhaps not much before then.

Did I pressure them into riding with me? I don’t like to think I did (of course not!) but it would be fair to say that at least one thought she should ride with me, even though she obviously wasn’t enjoying it. I’m not sure of whether she simply didn’t care for bike riding or she was frustrated because she couldn’t ride as long or fast as I did.

I have long enjoyed riding solo. But I couldn’t help but to wonder whether I will some day ride in a romantic liaison with someone-of whatever gender identity or expression—who is my equal, or even better. 

Riding Off Into The Sunset--From A Singles' Ride

I have never been to any sort of event or function with the word "singles" in it.  Honestly, I have never felt any great urgency about meeting a potential date or mate.  Other people in my life, however, have felt such anxiety and have tried to get me to go to bars, parties, dinners, book clubs, lecture series,gallery openings, church "socials" and even bike rides for the unattached.  Or they've invited me to lunch or dinner and, when I arrived, they introduced me to some similarly solo friend or co-worker who would be "right" or "great" for me.

It seems that there aren't as many singles' events as there were in my youth, and singles' bars seem to have disappeared altogether.  The main cause, I suspect, is the all of the ways in which people can find each other online.   
So I wonder what people who met on singles' fora of the past tell their children, or other young people--most of whom, I suspect, have no concept of the sorts of things I'm describing.

I am thinking now, in particular, a woman whose story I came across recently.  Suzanne Travis, a California nurse, went on a singles' bicycle ride on--you guessed it--Valentine's Day.  

As she tells the story, she was, in addition to a nurse, an aspiring stand-up comedienne.   She went to the bike ride the way she went to other singles' events: expecting that not much would come of it besides material for her routines.  After all, how many jokes or monologues have you heard about successful relationships or people who lived "happily ever after."

From Out and About Singles

On the ride, she met a man she describes as "adorable."  And, of course, she invited him to her show.  One thing led to another and now they have been married for 27 years.

She still rides her bike.  And she tells her jokes--to her patients.  They are a "captive audience", she says.  Apparently, that's what she needs: "I found that I became a little less funny the happier I got."

Hmm...More happy=Less funny?  Could that be the reason why we haven't heard many stand-up routines about cycling?

Cycling Couples and Bike Buddies

Much has been written, on various blogs and elsewhere, about cycling couples.  Most of those articles, entries and rants are about male-female couples of one variety or another.  

It seems that at least half of what I read on the subject concerns the disparity in ability, training, interest--or in the bicycles ridden--between the female and male half of the couple.  


When I first started cycling, the subject was mentioned only in passing, and only by men.  (Nearly everyone who cycled for non-utility purposes in those days was a man.)  In one of his books, Fred de Long referred to his wife as his "tandem partner."  I always wondered whether she was already cycling when she met him.  Or, was she a "willing convert"--or a grudging one?  


John Forester, in Effective Cycling (probably the best cycling book I read during my formative years) says frankly that one of his marriages broke up, in part, over her lack of interest in cycling and, as a result, one of the qualities he sought in  a prospective partner was her willingness to share his passion for cycling.  


A few articles in the magazines of the day--notably Bicycling!--mentioned the same dilemma.  However, the point of view was always the same: that of a high-mileage male cyclist.  This, from a magazine that was edited by a woman !


Later. on club rides, I would hear complaints from women about their male partners' impatience with them--or that those men had splurged on super-bikes for themselves but bought them uncomfortable bikes that handled like shopping carts.  And those men couldn't understand why they couldn't keep up, much less muster enthusiasm!


I have to admit that at in at least one relationship, I was guilty as charged.  Ironically, my last partner before my gender transition was the only one who shared my enthusiasm for cycling.  We did a tours of the Loire Valley and Vermont togethether, and were discussing plans for another when, er, other events intervened.


In my new life, the roles reversed.  I was the cyclist; he had no interest in it at all and couldn't understand why I'd spend an afternoon pedalling to some place to which he could drive in less than an hour.  However, that's not the only reason we're not together.


If you've been reading this blog, you might know that I sometimes ride with two female friends. Before my surgery, I was stronger than them, though not by as much as one might expect.  After my post-surgery layoff, and a shorter hiatus after I developed an infection, they were stronger than I was.  I'm starting to catch up; they have been patient.  (I don't post their photos only because they've asked me not to.  One of them just doesn't want, for professional reasons, to be mentioned on blogs or in any other public forum.  The other is simply shy.)  Somehow I don't recall anything like this in the groups of males with whom I used to ride.  When I look back, I feel that in those relationships, the accent in the phrase "cycling buddy" was on the first word.


Then again, on any Sunday, especially at this time of year, you can see people who are simply buddies who happen to be riding together, like these guys I saw on the Rockaway boardwalk:

Their bikes are what we used to call POS in one bike shop in which I worked.  But they don't know that, and don't seem to care.  Why would they?