7th December 2022
Between the brief hill climb season and the return to a winter of Zwifting, talk of body weight becomes especially loud. Whether entering an online race or launching themselves up a hill, W/kg is the measurement by which cyclists judge their own performance and status. We are, as a sport, hooked on weight-watching. Whether losing weight annually by an increase in riding, or gaining weight in a long period of rest of change, we are always aware of our body’s size as part of our hobby. The virtual world of ‘Watopia’ with its potential to escape the laws of ‘meatspace’ entirely, instead closely tracks it during competitions. Professional racers are required to post photographs of their scales to prove that their avatar is the right weight. The end of summer is, then, a moment when weight matters to us even more than usual. Which is already a lot.
This brief opinion piece from your race secretaries is to remind you to keep weight-watching in it’s place. It is a whisper of refusal in the face of a wall of noise that promotes weight loss, weight control, and thinness. Weight is the least important aspect of cycling – anyone can ride! – and it’s prominence carries risks to health, inclusion, equality, enjoyment, and performance.
Cycling has numerous problems of diversity. We are, in the Condors, especially alert to the overwhelming male-ness of cycling, But how many of us have thought how disproportionately thin cycling is? Most riders in the cycling media are skinny, and many prominent riders spend time tracking their weight, thinking about it. Talk about how much easier cycling would be, how much faster one could ride, if one weighed less, is so widespread in cycling clubs that it usually passes without response. Comments along these lines are everywhere.
The thinness is not representative of the wide population. The average BMI for the population of England in 2019 was 27.6 [1]. This is, according to many BMI charts, including that on the NHS website, ‘overweight’. (If you want to read why BMI is itself a stupid way to measure the health of individuals, try this brief NPR episode: https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106268439.) This is not the shape of the people we most often see riding bicycles.
If you’re thinking that this is because cycling itself often makes people thinner, you’re missing the point. Plenty of people don’t ride bikes because they think of themselves as outside the identity of the cyclist they see portrayed everywhere. In fact, plenty in the Condors will disappear from club rides for extended periods while they ‘get back in shape’. Others hold back from trying new things because they think they’re too fat to merit participation. Fitness and its erroneous proxy thinness appear to many as a prerequisite for participation. People are marginalised and isolated by the ubiquity of a certain body shape.
Lots of us heard Emily Chappell speak at the Outspoken event, where she shared her epiphany, which was that she wasn’t, in fact, a ‘fat person’. This is after spending most of her life thinking she was a ‘fat cyclist’. Chappell has recently been doing some important work on body dysmorphia with fellow ultra cyclist, Jenny Tough. (Find out more in their recent short film: https://youtu.be/6gDnuyNpqK8 .) The limitations imposed by messages about weight are widespread.
This isn’t just a women’s issue and nor is it just an issue affecting racers chasing wins. Cyclists at all levels walk the fine line between self-harm and health. This twisting and tweaking, the number crunching, turning it up a notch, pushing through, getting home running on fumes, riding until you can’t see straight, are all widely celebrated. We’ve got a knack for suffering; it’s our special talent and has been key to Rapha’s success.[2] Training the body to eat less might feel just the same as training to get stronger, fitter, faster. But, it’s not. It is different.
Amateur riders often look up to professionals, sometimes idealising their extreme body shape. There are good reasons for not following the pros’ example, but even there, in the highest echelons of the sport, teams are experimenting with maximising energy intake, understanding that energy availability is a primary limiter for performance. Riders are now eating up to 140g of carbohydrates per hour, which is still not enough to maintain their energy balance. You might try eating more on the bike too. See what happens.
We’ve got some difficult truths and some good news to herald:
– You are not your numbers.
– Less weight does not mean better performance.
– Weight is not fat.
– Fat brings numerous physiological benefits that will improve your riding: insulation, robustness, reserve energy.
– Habitually restricting your diet in order to exercise control is a type of disordered eating.
– Your performance is almost certainly more limited by undernutrition than by excess weight.
– Don’t jettison outdoors because indoor riding is controllable, comfortable, engaging.
Are you helping to broaden cycling’s appeal? Or are you, even by talking about your weight loss plans, enforcing the limitations of our sport? If you don’t see yourself anywhere in this article, great. Look out for your friends who do.
If you need help, we’re here and if you need more help, contact your GP or one of these agencies:
– Anorexia and Bulimia Care https://www.talk-ed.org.uk
– Beat: eating disorders https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk
– Mental Health Foundation https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk
[1] http://healthsurvey.hscic.gov.uk/data-visualisation/data-visualisation/explore-the-trends/weight/adult/bmi.aspx
[2] https://bikevibe.no/stories/text-mari-oshaugride-photos-marius-nilsenphotos