Robert Davis Is Still A Winner

Yesterday I alluded to my brief, undistinguished "career" as a racer.  Among other things, I mentioned that the best I ever did was a third-place finish (out of about 25 or so riders) that resulted from the crash of a rider who probably would have taken my place on the podium had he not taken his tumble.

The time I spent competing--and, more important, training for it--left me with respect for those who continue to train and race, and admiration for those who win.  If anything, these days, I feel even more respect and admiration for those who are not considered "elite" or "world-class" cyclists, especially with all of the scandals and shenanigans at the so-called higher levels of the sport. 

For most cyclists, the reward of cycling is cycling itself and the memories it inspires.  For a relative few, there are tangible rewards: in the rarest of cases, money, but for a few more, trophies and other momentoes.

Robert Davis, with his trophy from the bicycle race he won in 1949, when he was 16.

Robert Davis has one on his bedroom dresser.  Every morning, it reminds him of a 100 kilometer race he won.  His victory even earned him, and the race itself, an article and photos in one of the world's most popular magazines.

That magazine was Life.  The race, however, is one you probably don't know about--I admit, I didn't, either, until today--unless you were involved in it or lived in the US state of Georgia.  

Robert Davis, then.

The Valdosta Times-Boys' Club Bicycle Marathon ran for the first time in 1946 and continued every year through the 1950s.  Davis competed in the Marathon's third edition, in 1948, and again two years later.   In between, in 1949, he won.

Robert Davis crossing the finish line.

He was 16 years old and finished ahead of 100 other boys around his own age.  They all prepared for the race by riding after school and during holidays; some, like Davis, delivered the Times on their bicycles.  When he crossed the finish line, with hundreds of people cheering him on, he felt "elated," he said, that he "could have the endurance" to ride such a distance.

Davis has every reason to be proud, nearly seven decades later.  If nothing else, he's inspired some young people.  Among them are his two grandsons:  Both are avid cyclists. 

Defining A Human Right

Many, many years ago, I raced, albeit briefly.  My "career", such as it was, barely registered a pawl-click in the history of bicycle racing:  I once placed third and now I'm going to admit, for the first time, I probably finished that far up because someone better than I had a mishap.

I was young, full of myself (Who isn't at that age?) and full of...testosterone.  (You were expecting something else?)  Yes, in those days, I raced as a male because, well, I lived as one, by my given name and the gender marked on my birth certificate when I came into this world.  (It has since been amended.)  I could probably say the same for my erstwhile competitors.

The difference between them and me is that, as far as I know, they're all still living as males.  One or two might still be racing; I would guess that at least some of the others continue to ride, whether for fun, fitness or other motives.  I can't tell you whether any of them ever entertained any notions of living as anything other than the males they always knew themselves to be: My guess is that none of them have, though it wouldn't surprise me too much if one or two did.

If any of them were to undergo the same transition I have undertaken and wanted to continue racing, how would that rider be classified?

I'm not talking about "veterans" or "Category 3" or the classifications normally associated with racing.  Rather, I'm speculating on whether they would compete as males or females. 

You see, a couple of months ago, USA Cycling released its policy on transgender athlete participation to "bring clarity" to its "efforts at diversity and inclusion."  In all fairness, USA Cycling's new policy is clearly more progressive than that of other governing bodies in cycling or other sports--when, indeed, those governing bodies have written policies at all.

USA Cycling has divided its athletes into two groups:  Non-elite, which includes Category 3-5 racers, and elite, which includes Categories 1 and 2 as well as professionals.  

Non-elite cyclists may self-select their gender category, and if any questions arise about an athlete's eligibility, they may be resolved with medical documentation, how that athlete identifies in "everyday life" as well as other criteria.  None of that, really, sounds terribly different from what I used, before I had my surgery, to establish myself as female under the law as well as for employment, insurance and other purposes.

"Elite" cyclists, on the other hand, are subject to the more stringent rules of the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) and the International Olympic Committee (IOC), which focus on hormone levels and medical monitoring.  

The reason USA Cycling has these two sets of standards is that "Elite" riders can qualify for international competitions, while non-elite riders generally race only within the US.  

Rachel McKinnon, a philosophy professor who teaches a class on sports ethics and inclusion, says she has mixed feelings about this new ruling.  Her thoughts are especially interesting since she is a Cat. 1 racer who transitioned from male to female before she started cycling.  

She believes the fact that the rules even exist at all is good because they say that transgenders can indeed compete in races.  Some of us don't race--and many other would-be athletes don't participate in other sports--simply because we don't know that we're allowed to do so.  Others don't compete because we fear, or have experienced, harassment from other athletes who either believe trans people shouldn't be competing against them or simply don't want us around.   

Moreover, even if we are aware, some of us don't participate because we don't feel safe "outing" ourselves to organizations, especially if we are not "out" at work or in our communities.  Trans people, McKinnon says, " were voluntarily excluding themselves because they didn't want to take the risk."  Having a set of guidelines tells athletes that it's OK to compete, she says, and tells them "Here's how you do it."



Her praise for USA Cycling's new guidelines, however, is tempered by her criticism that they don't go far enough in another area:  Not all Cat 1 and Cat 2 riders race internationally.  (I would guess that the majority don't.)  She believes that those who don't should not be subject to a testosterone limit or any of the other medical criteria imposed by international governing bodies.  "I think that aspect of the policy fails to meet ethical standards of justification," says the philosophy professor.

In response, Chuck Hodge, USA Cycling's Technical director, says the new policy was crafted "not to create a witch-hunt" but to build "firewalls" primarily so that non-transgenders won't try to race as another gender "to prove a point".  I guess such a thing, were it to happen, would be more likely in non-elite domestic competitions rather than international matches.  Still, I'm not sure how many guys it will keep from competing as women, or vice-versa.  For that matter, I'm not sure that very many have ever tried to compete as their "opposite" gender.  

Still, I think USA Cycling should be commended for its new policy.  While it adheres to more stringent IOC (and UCI) rules about gender identity, it does affirm Point #4 of the Fundamental Principles of Olympism, spelled out  in the Olympic Charter (p.13):  Participation in sport is a human right.

The Right Kind Of Protection?

As I promised, I went for a ride yesterday.  And, yes, I was out during the eclipse.

I didn't have a pair of eclipse glasses.  I vaguely remember projecting a 95 or 97 percent eclipse through a pinhole onto a piece of construction paper or something when I was 11 or 12.  Since I couldn't recall the method exactly, and couldn't look it up, I wasn't able to view an image, let alone the eclipse itself.  Then again, even if I had remembered,  I might not have been able to see it:  Clouds moved across the sky and, I believe, the sun.  No one seemed entirely sure of whether the momentary dimming of the sun was caused by the moon or clouds.

All right...Maybe I'm just trying to rationalize not witnessing the big cosmic event of the year.  I wasn't prepared, pure and simple.  But, perhaps, someone else was:

At any rate, someone was more prepared than I was

and found an interesting way to use an old bike rack!