The Winds of the Season

 On my way back from a ride to Fort Totten, I stopped on the Malcolm X Promenade and captured (I hope) some of the energy of a Fall day.

No Tour Ahead Of The Marathon

 I participated—twice as a marshal—in 15 of the first 25 Five Boro Bike Tours. In the early years, it was a lot of fun because all participants, whether they came from near or far, were cyclists: We rode, not because it was fashionable, but rather because it was in our blood. Sometimes I feel as if I am carrying the momentary bonds that formed between me and cyclists I haven’t seen in the decades since:  We were a kind of fraternity without the hazing; we understood each other.

But as the Tour grew from dozens to hundreds to thousands to tens of thousands, it felt less like a ride with a lot of friends and more like an Event (yes, with a capital E). It seemed more important to be, or be seen as, hip, whatever that meant at the moment. Some of the “cyclists” I saw on later rides reminded me of the kinds of people who go to galleries or museums with family or friends because that’s what they’re doing before brunch.

I don’t mean to come off as elitist: I am happy whenever people choose to ride. But I am not interested in showing how sophisticated I am (though, I admit, that was a priority when I was younger); I just want to ride, take in the sights and sounds and, if I am not riding solo, enjoying the company of others.

Oh, and I simply refuse to pay $100 for a ride that lasts only part of the day—even if Amelie is catering the rest stops and Calvin Klein designs the jerseys.

For the past two decades, however, it seems that a group of cyclists is doing the Tour without the Tour, if you will.  In the wee hours of morning, they set out along the New York City Marathon while the streets along the route are closed but the runners haven’t started.

Of course, the Marathon course is shorter than the Tour. But the former includes some of the latter, which is one reason why I make that comparison. Also, the ride is not sanctioned by any group or club, so I imagine that it feels, in a way, like one of the early Five Boro rides. 

I have not participated in one of those rides, but it’s hard to see the harm in it . Most people who knew about it apparently felt the same way:  Even police officers charged with blocking off the route didn’t seem to mind.

But, apparently, some folks in the New York Road Runners’ Club weren’t to keen on it. And there was a report of a cyclist hitting a pedestrian. So, the pre-Marathon ride is now forbidden, and the NYPD says that anyone who rides ahead of the Marathon will be stopped.

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.