The Cycling Swell

“Why is it I feel so disgusting after cycling? And just look at these, how swollen they are!”

Putting down her emptied water bottle, the woman sticks out her wrists to demonstrate. The flesh is puffy above her gloves, folding over muffin-top style. Mine look similar, as do my ankles over the edges of my socks. For a few minutes the group of us sits there, comparing unattractively swollen body parts.

There is an expectation that cycling will make us sleek and lean, instantaneously. But, in particular when riding long distances, many are alarmed to find themselves bloated and swollen instead. The first time it happened to me in a noticeable way, I went on the internet and found a dazzling array of explanations. It happens from not drinking enough water. It happens from drinking too much water. It happens from overconsumption of calories from energy drinks and snacks. It happens from consuming too few calories. It happens if you eat too many carbs or not enough carbs. It may or may nor happen more if you are a woman. It is due to water retention and will lead to temporary weight gain, followed by weight loss. It is due to cortisol production and will lead to real weight gain, accompanied by other problems. "There is no cause for concern," said the highly qualified doctor of Cyclist A on Forum X when consulted about the symptoms. "There is cause for concern, and you must cut down on cycling," said the equally qualified doctor of Cyclist B on Forum Y. Well then, there's that explained!

Monitoring myself over the past few years on the bike, I see two types of processes at work. One is the temporary bloating I get in the course of a single ride. This tends to happen on rides longer than, say, 50 miles. And it seems absolutely unrelated to the amount of water or calories I consume. Either way, I will get a little puffy, a little bloated - noticeable mainly in the face, ankles and wrists. And, a few hours after the ride is over, it will all go away. The swelling will diminish, then disappear; my skin's tautness will return.

The other is a longer-term process that seems to happen when I do a lot of cycling all at once following a period of taking it easy. After a couple of weeks of doing the miles in earnest the first thing I notice is that my legs get big - so big that I have trouble getting my jeans on. The first year this happened I mistook it for very rapid muscle development. But now I know it is a temporary effect - more like a swelling from the shock of those muscle groups being overworked. In the first instance, my legs bulge out. But if I keep cycling at the same frequency and intensity, their size will eventually diminish. Gradually the swelling will subside and give way to actual muscle tone - hard, sleek and well defined, rather than puffy or bulging. And my jeans will fit again. Last summer this happened over a 2 months period.

Very possibly there is more than one single cause behind the cycling swell. But in any case, it is apparently not unusual. This spring I've just entered the "can't get my jeans on stage" and look forward to getting it over with!

Cycling Bibs for Women: 4 Basic Styles

Lately I've been getting lots of questions about women's bib shorts. Are they more comfortable than regular cycling shorts and worth switching to? Having made the switch to bibs a year ago, for me the answer was Yes. As soon as I tried bib shorts it was love at first ride. Instead of an elastic cutting across my belly fat and chafing my skin on long rides, bibs offered a wonderful feel of support and compression. True, the under-the-jersey straps make peeing a more elaborate process for women. But that is a price I am willing to pay for the extra comfort I get out of them on the bike.

So the next question is, which style to chose? There seem to be so many. The funny thing about that is that until recently there were almost none. Cycling shorts and tights would be offered in a bib style for men, but not women. Then a couple of years ago this suddenly started to change, with manufacturers scrambling to come up with women-specific designs and each seeming to arrive at something different. But why the need of a women's specific style in the first place? Let's start by examining the traditional design.

The Classic Bib Design

Unlike elastic-waisted shorts, cycling bibs stay up via suspender-style straps. These straps can be either solid of mesh, narrow or wide, and they can vary in their degree of stretch. The classic cycling bib design (ie most men's bibs) routes the straps straight up and over the shoulders, as shown on the left. For women this can be problematic, as it means the straps are placed directly over the breasts. Depending on the size, shape and orientation of the breasts and nipples, this can result in uncomfortable digging into sensitive tissue - in particular with straps that are on the narrower side and made of a dense, not super-stretchy fabric. Because there is so much variety in this part of a woman's anatomy, it is difficult to come up with bib dimensions that will solve this problem - which is why most manufacturers avoided the issue altogether and stuck with ordinary shorts for their women's lines. Still there there are manufacturers who produce women's bibs in the classic design - for instance, Road Holland. I own a pair of these and find them comfortable enough. The straps are very wide and made of a lightweight, stretchy mesh; worn over a sports bra I can hardly feel them. But again, reactions to this style will differ depending on the specifics of the design and on your anatomy. In particular, women with large breasts and large, sensitive nipples may find the routing of the straps uncomfortable.

The Open Bib Design

Some manufacturers have tried to address the problem of bib strap routing by making them "open" - that is, routed around rather than directly over the breasts. Here the straps sit at the far sides of the torso, close to the armpits, resembling the back of an athletic swimsuit. Personally, I find this style the most comfortable out of the ones available. The bib straps on my Giordana shorts keep clear of my boobs and stay in place remarkably well; I cannot feel them at all when on the bike. However, I know that some women dislike having the straps so close to the armpits and experience chafing at the inner arms. This does not happen to me at all. But whether this style works for you will depend on your anatomy and skin sensitivity.

The Y-Front Bib Design

An alternative style of routing bib straps to avoid the breasts is the Y-front. Here the straps meet at the collarbone and connect to form a single panel that sits between the breasts, then gradually expands at the abdomen to merge with the lower part of the shorts. Assos, with their coy models, is particularly well known for this style and I have a pair of their shorts for review. The Y-strap bib routing is clever and feels comfortable enough to me - with the caveat that the size has to be spot on, or else the strap will either choke or feel too loose. Some versions of this style also feature a clasp - presumably for easier removal of the straps in order to pee. Personally I do not like having a clasp at my sternum and would prefer the version without it. All in all, the y-front style is a little too fussy for me - but preferences will differ.  Those with unusually long or short torsos might have trouble finding a good fit.

The Full-Coverage Bib Design

Yet another way to avoid dealing with boobage issues is with a full coverage style of bibs. Similar to a bathing costume circa the 1920s, this design is basically a combination of shorts and a tank-top. Typically a zipper will run down the middle. Rapha makes their women's bibs in this style and I own a pair of the 3/4 knicker version. In some ways I like this design, in particular I enjoy the extra compression that comes with the full coverage. However there are times when I just don't want all that extra fabric around my torso - when I'd like to wear bibs and not a full body suit. Aside from this, women with large breasts and narrow hips or vise-versa might find it tricky to get a good fit, as the top and bottom proportions are either/or.

There are other women's cycling bib designs out there, but I find that most are variations on these four. Every season it seems there are more and more manufacturers offering various versions of women's cycling bibs. If you are looking to compare styles and prices, Team Estrogen looks like a good starting point. If you have your own favourite style, brand or model, please share what works for you - as well as what doesn't. Women in all shapes and sizes can and do wear bib shorts. But they are not for everyone; in the end it is all about what suits you personally.

Cycling and Headaches

Being prone to migraines and tension headaches, I make sure to carry pain meds as part of the standard dayride kit in my cycling bag. But I've never actually had to use them to treat a headache. In fact, I cannot remember ever having a headache on the bike. This realisation came to me a couple of nights ago, when a quiet evening of movie-watching at a friend's house ended in a brain-piercing, want-to-bang-head-against-wall type of headache the likes of which I haven't experienced in some time. It felt mild enough to ignore at first, and after a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water I settled back on the sofa amidst the other lounging bodies in the darkened living room. But when the film was over and the lights came on, the real pain began. Behind the left eye. Throbbing. Spreading with a slow horrible pressure toward the back of my head. I was getting a lift home in a friend's car, a 25 minute drive. In the course of those minutes things went from bad to worse, and I'm pretty sure that my face came to resemble Munch's The Scream in its grotesque contortions. Even after I got home and took a hefty dose of headache medication, it took an hour of lying perfectly still in a dark room for the storm in my head to calm. But it was while writhing in the passenger's seat with the window rolled down that it hit me: I have countless memories of being stuck in a car with debilitating headaches - but none of having a headache on a bike.

Certainly all the ingredients have been there. Long, windblown hours under direct sun. Physical exhaustion and dehydration. Hasty departures without morning coffee. Tightly adjusted helmets. Tail lights of cyclists in front of me shining directly into my eye on group rides. And yet it has never happened. I've had headaches after bike rides and before bike rides, just never during. And I've had headaches during other forms of exercise - namely running (well, attempting to run). Could there be something special about cycling that prevents them?

According to a neurologist friend, that is not impossible. The research on headaches and exercise is mixed. In some instances exercise can actually induce headaches ("exertional headaches"), and there appears to be a higher risk of this with high-impact exercise and weight lifting. In other instances, exercise can be used therapeutically to treat headaches, including migraines. These would be exercises that are low impact and promote relaxation and tension-reducing posture alignment. Yoga is probably the most typical. But it is plausible that cycling could play that role as well - depending on how it makes us feel and how our body is positioned on the bike. And I suppose all that fresh air couldn't hurt either.

Whatever the reason for it, I am thankful to be headache-free when I pedal. I will continue to carry pain meds on rides, just in case. And I hope to continue not needing them.

Cycling as Stress Relief

When a friend told me he was “too stressed to ride lately,” that struck me as dissonant at first. We think of cycling as a stress-reducing activity. So if you’re feeling stressed that is all the more reason to go on a bike ride. But the more I considered it, the more I came to realise that the relationship between cycling and stress is not linear for me either.

When I'm stressed out, cycling does help. It clears my head, slows down my racing thoughts, improves my mood. It regulates my appetite and sleep patterns. And when sufficiently strenuous, it plain exhausts me into a state of near-catatonic relaxation. I have never been on a bike ride where I started out feeling stressed and didn't feel better afterward. And knowing this, my use of cycling for stress relief has become habitual. Feeling frazzled? Under pressure? Bad mood? Off I go on a bike ride. There, that fixed it.

There is, however, a threshold beyond which this doesn't work. Because stress, when it's bad enough, can demobilise. And this creates a Catch 22 situation: You're too stressed out to engage in an activity that can relief that stress. At that point, it can become a vicious cycle, with the stress building up and making you all the less likely to get on the bike. 

So what do you do if that happens? One solution could be to try and catch it early - convincing yourself to ride anyway before things snowball. Of course that's easier said than done. And personally, I don't like to force myself to get on the bike when I don't feel like it. So if I'm feeling too stressed to ride, then I just don't, and if that results in a cycling-lite phase of some weeks so be it. As always, I know I'll come out of it, waking up one morning and feeling the need for the bike before my eyes are even fully open. 

There may be times when we are too stressed to ride. And there are times the bike can wash the stress away better than any other remedy. Hopefully the latter overshadows the former.

Climbing Muscles? Perhaps

When I began to do long hilly rides, I acquired a nemesis: the Mysterious Pain. This pain would get me even when my legs were strong and my energy levels were high. It would get me when least expected, ruining countless rides and limiting my progress. 

I have never experienced anything quite like it before. It wasn't so much of a pain even, as an alarming sensation of seizing, not so much in my lower back as below it. If you draw an imaginary horizontal line perpendicular to the top of the butt crack, the sensation was along that line, in two distinct spots on the left and right, symmetrical.

The first time I experienced it in earnest was during a 100 mile overnight ride to Maine early last summer. It came on around mile 70 and was so debilitating I had to stop on the side of the road and stretch every 10 miles to keep going. 

Mystery pains are a source of fascination to cyclists, and I talked about mine with a slew of local riders. At the time the consensus was that I had increased my milage too quickly and hadn't the upper body strength to handle it. So I spent the rest of the summer sticking to sub-100K rides, but doing them with more frequency to build up strength and muscle tone. I am not sure this had any effect. It may have worked subtly, but at the time I felt somewhat stagnant and dispirited. I wanted, very badly, to do longer rides. And I felt strong; my legs would seldom get tired on a bike. But this strange pain/ seizing sensation was like a brick wall I kept hitting: No sooner would I attempt a long ride with lots of climbing, it would return. 

This Spring I began riding more than ever. Short rides, long rides, paved rides, dirt rides, club rides, brevets... I thought I was riding a lot before, but now I was practically living on my bike. Disappointingly, the mystery pain was still there - though I'd now learned to manage it with strategically timed stops and stretching. On the 200K brevet, I'd pull over on the side of the road every so many miles so that I could bend over backwards and do some quick twists before continuing. That was all it took to stop the discomfort for the next so many miles, so stopping was better than not stopping: If I did nothing about it and continued riding it would only slow me down.

Having witnessed this riding next to me on the 200K, my friend Pamela suggested that the problem could be insufficiently developed "climbing muscles" - something she herself had experienced at one time. Rather than related to distance, the discomfort could be brought on by long stretches of climbing - which are of course more likely to occur on long distance rides. 

There were other suggestions from riding companions at this time: That my gears were too high. That my saddle was too hard. That my position on the bike was too aggressive. And that climbing seated was the real issue. 

At that point I decided to take an aggressive approach and try everything. The suggestion that my roadbike position was causing the discomfort worried me, because I otherwise found it so comfortable. But a few strategic rides helped me eliminate that as the cause: I was able to bring about the same pain on more upright bikes (even my Brompton) if I used higher gears when climbing for a prolonged period of time. So gearing had a lot more to do with it than position. I now also knew for certain that the source of the problem wasn't the long distance, but the long, repeated climbs. In Ireland I found that I could bring about the pain within as little as 20 miles, if they were "quality miles" with respect to elevation gain.

In short, the climbing muscles diagnosis seemed the most probable. But how to develop them? I was not willing to go to the gym to work on my "core," and so far just continuing to ride the way I'd been wasn't helping. 

Staying in Ireland took care of the problem. Here I did not continue to ride the way I'd been, but, with some guidance, began to do more focused riding - both faster and with more climbing - on a more or less daily basis. I learned how to use gears more efficiently. And I also finally learned how to stand out of the saddle and began practicing that every ride. 

One result of all this has been a subtle, but significant transformation to my body within a very short time period. The changes to my legs did not surprise me - after all, that is what we expect from cycling. But I did not expect the changes to my midriff. My abdomen has gone flat and there are these weird thin horizontal muscles wrapping around the sides of my torso, front and back - where the "love handles" used to be, if you will. I have never had muscle definition in this area before, and it all looks and feels absolutely bizarre, as if my body isn't really mine. But existential analyses aside, whatever's happened it has solved the mystery pain problem. No more. It's just gone - regardless of whether I climb standing or seated, in a low gear or high. Just to make sure, this past week I've made it a point to do hilly rides without getting out of the saddle at all, like in the old days (meaning entire months ago). But that seizing sensation below the lower back is now just a memory. 

So... climbing muscles. What are they exactly? I imagine some combination of abdominal and lower back muscles. For some they might be naturally well developed. For most they are probably average.  And for some, like myself, they could be underdeveloped - requiring lots of work to get up to par. Happily, I love riding and doing this "work." And I love it that this limitation is finally gone. 

The Feel of the Road

I never gave much thought to the feel of pavement until I started cycling in Ireland last spring. Then I noticed the difference straight away: The tarmac, as they call it in the British Isles, felt distinctly softer than the asphalt in my part of the US. Having lived for years in the UK before I was a cyclist, I'd somehow never noticed this. But on a bike it was difficult not to. I could feel a give in the road's surface under my tires. It was also more porous, gravely in texture. Feeling more resistance than I'd come to expect from pavement, I kept wondering whether my tires had gone flat, or whether something was mechanically amiss with the folding bike I was riding. Later I learned that the roads in Ireland are a kind of chipseal. The differences I sensed were real. 

Being back this summer, and with a skinny-tire roadbike this time, the characteristics of the Irish roads feel even more pronounced. The softness and the rough texture make me exert more effort to achieve the same speed as in the US. I would place the experience as somewhere between riding on pavement and riding on tightly packed gravel. 

When the tarmac is freshly laid or repaired, the top layer can be quite loose. It also loosens easily after stretches of bad weather. Cornering on such sections without realising what you're dealing with can be dangerous. 

There are other interesting effects. Once I did a long distance ride in a 75°F "heatwave." On the return leg around 4pm, I noticed that the road in front of me was glistening, getting shinier and more liquid-looking by the minute - almost as if it were melting. I thought to myself "Nah, can't be. I must be tired and imagining things." Next things I know, viscous clumps of tar were sticking to my tires and clogging my brakes. I had to pull over and scrape the gooey black chunks off, then use a stick to knock the hardened clumps out of the brake calipers. Then I sat in the shade and waited for an hour, until the road cooled off enough to continue home. To my relief, the following day everyone was talking about the melting tarmac, so at least I did not hallucinate the surreal experience. I guess the tarmac here is not rated to withstand such boiling temperatures!

If you're riding a harsh-feeling bike on Irish roads, you'll know it. The rough texture exaggerates the jarring sensations of road buzz. When I tried a friend's racing bike, my hands were vibrating so much I could not believe it. "Oh it's like riding on razor blades, to be sure," he laughed. I stroked my own bike with renewed appreciation. 

Once I do get used to the roads here, the roads in the US feel unnaturally hard and smooth in comparison, and readjusting to them takes some time as well. As for the New England potholes... well, that is a topic that deserves its own post, possibly in poem form.

High Heels and Saddle Height

A belated Monday Mailbox post, on account of my wifi having conked out yesterday. Here is a variation of a question I've gotten from several readers this summer:

...I'd like to wear high heeled shoes on my bike, but find it's hard to get the saddle height right. If I adjust the saddle for my heels it is too high when I wear flats, and vice versa. What do you recommend?

The problem here is not so much with the high heels themselves as it is with platform soles. Over the past year platform and wedge style shoes with substantial stack heights have become popular again. And alternating between shoes that are flat, and shoes with a 3cm rise in the sole will make a noticeable difference in leg extension on the bike.

For short distances, this might not matter so much. Some women will adjust their saddle height for flats and then simply ride with it too low when wearing heels and platforms. Others (myself included) find this uncomfortable even for short stretches. And of course for longer distances riding with your saddle too low is simply a bad idea - not only uncomfortable, but bad for the knees.

Aside from the obvious but unhelpful suggestion of picking a heel height and sticking with it, one thing to consider is converting your seatpost to quick release. This should be easy to do on most bikes: You simply purchase a quick release skewer, and install that in place of the seat clamp bolt. I now have QR seatposts on my everyday city bike and on my cargo bike, and they have changed my life. Well, not really. But they have liberated me to wear crazy heels again without worrying about leg extension. In mere seconds I can adjust the saddle to whatever height I want before a ride; problem solved.

Granted, the downside to quick release seatposts is the increased possibility of saddle theft - which means either sticking with an inexpensive saddle on your QR bike, taking the seatpost and saddle with you every time you leave the bike locked up, or using an extra lock to secure the saddle to the bike. The last two are a bother, but still could be worth it for the versatility of footwear the setup affords.

Another possibility is adjusting your saddle height on the go without a QR seatpost. Just carry the appropriate tool with you. Of course this assumes the ability to do it on your own, and a willingness to constantly mess with your saddle height "the hard way." Personally, I kind of enjoy this. But still the quick release is an easier and more reasonable solution.

After several years of wearing mostly flat shoes, I've been getting back to heels and platforms lately and it's been great fun. And being able to adjust my saddle height on the go means my leg extension is always just the way I like it.

Bee-Happy

Though I have a surprisingly good track record of not crashing my bike, that does not mean I haven't gotten hurt cycling. And for whatever strange reason, the main cause of that hurt has been bees. That's right, bees.

For the record, until 5 years ago I have never had a problem with the stripey, fuzzy, industrious, winged little creatures. They are handsome. They are useful. And they make delicious sweet honey. But no sooner had I put foot to pedal than our relationship soured.

In Spring 2009 I was cycling along the Danube Bike Path outside Vienna, when a whale of a bumble bee flew directly into my face. When our worlds collided, I was going 12mph on an upright bike and it was going full bumblebee speed. It didn't sting me. It sort of bounced off my eye, just beneath the right brow bone. But the impact had such force, that I walked around with a black eye for a week. This was back when I had a 9-5 job, with an office and Important Meetings and everything. Explaining this incident - in English and German and sometimes other languages too - never failed to delight, especially when I had to resort to pantomime. Pedal-pedal-pedal... bzzz... smack, I would gesture. My audience would positively beam with understanding. Aaaaaah, yes-yes, oop-pa!

I submit to you some statistics. Before I began cycling, I'd only been stung by a bee once, maybe twice in my life. Since I began cycling? At least half a dozen times. In fact the number might be closer to 10. The first time was a shock, the second time an annoyance. After that I began to take it in stride. Still, there are a few memorable stings. Like that beautiful spring day on which I first exposed my ankles, donning 3/4 shorts instead of full length tights, only to be stung in one of said ankles, causing a baseball sized swelling. Or that time I first rode to the Fruitlands with Pamela, and, just before reaching the top of the big climb, was stung in the fold between thigh and crotch. Or the time I was stung on the palm of my hand whilst holding the handlebars and wearing cycling gloves. I admit that continuing to hold the bars for the last 20 miles home caused some whimpering.

And then there was yesterday. Just 4 miles into a 40 mile ride, I am bombing (well, okay - proceeding cautiously) downhill, when smack! A bee flies directly into my sunglasses, bouncing off the lower edge of the right lens, then off my cheekbone, before falling to the ground. At first I don't even bother slowing down. But then I realise that the creature managed to actually sting me whilst performing its death throe acrobatics. The pain is sharp, then piercing, then downright unbearable. Finally I pull over and get off the bike. By this time the right side of my face feels like it's going numb. Of all the symptoms I know associated with bee stings, this one surprises me and I calmly wonder whether Something Bad is Happening. I pull out my phone and send a text message to my husband (who has ER experience and is great for quick unsentimental feedback). I try to be precise: "stung by bee below right eye. side face numb. keep riding or seek med help?"

Unfortunately this happens in a spot with poor cell phone reception and I am not able to send the text. Or search for "bee sting, numbness" on the internet. So I decide to keep riding until I find an establishment with a bathroom where I could clean the sting and get a better look at it. This does not take long, as the area is chock full of ice cream shops and lobster shacks placed every 2/3rd of a mile or so along the coastal roads. Despite the morning hour, the nearest lobster place is already open. They have not only a bathroom but also one of those first aid ice packs that doesn't become an ice pack until you activate it. The waitresses observe with interest, elbows on the sink, as I luxuriate in their cool bathroom, washing the sunscreen and sweat and grime off my face, then applying the ice pack to the now-swollen area.

At length the numbness wears off and now only the pain of the sting remains. I reason this means I'm okay and decide to keep riding. Maybe the pain of the sting and the pain of the cycling (I plan to practice standing again - hoping to beat my 1/2 mile at a time record) would cancel each other out. This proves a good strategy and I proceed to have a lovely ride. Later in the day the swelling and pain subside and by the time I go to bed the incident is nearly forgotten.

Alas this morning I open my eyes and discover I cannot open the right one completely. The area beneath it looks like a misshapen tomato. Apparently this is pretty normal for a bee sting under the eye; it can take up to a week for the swelling to go down. Bees!

But you know how the song goes... "when the bee stings/ my favourite things" and all that? So I went on a squinty early morning bike ride and didn't feel so bad. The Advil probably helped too.

Monday Mailbox: Treating Saddle Sores

Monday Mailbox is a series of posts dedicated to questions received over email. Here is one that pops up now and again:

This is embarrassing, but lately I've been getting what I think are saddle sores after long rides. How can I tell that is what they are? And do you have any advice for treating them?

Saddle sores are one of those common, yet mysterious problems that cyclists love to discuss endlessly. I am just one voice among many and by no means an expert. Happily, I was spared the affliction of saddle sores for my first three and a half years on the bike. It is only recently, when I started covering longer distances, that I began to get them occasionally.

What exactly is a saddle sore? Part of the reason there is so much mystique and different advice out there, is that there is no single medical definition. But at least everyone agrees about their location. Saddle sores appear on the crotch, where it comes in contact with the saddle. Popular spots include the uppermost inner thighs, the "taint," and that transitional ridge where leg becomes butt.

One opinion is that saddle sores are boils caused by abrasions. Another is that they are some special, horrible type of cyst that forms as a result of fluid buildup. But probably the most popular opinion is that they are infected hair follicles. It is very possible that in fact they can be any or all of these things, depending on the rider and cause - which also means that treatment and prevention methods might differ depending on what type it is. Based on my own observations, the infected follicle theory makes the most sense, so that is what I am going with. And as it happens, I've discovered a fairly quick and simple way to get rid of them. Who knows, it might work for you. So here is what I do:

After a ride, shower as soon as possible using non-perfumed soap. Once the area is clean, you will need two ingredients: tea tree oil and vaseline. It's important that the tea tree oil is just that, and not, say, a moisturiser containing it as an ingredient. Plain tea tree oil is now available in many mainstream pharmacies, so sourcing it should not be a problem. 

Using a cotton swab, apply tea tree oil to the affected areas - but be careful not to get it onto any mucus membranes, as that could hurt. Once it dries, follow up with vaseline. Repeat every few hours, washing the area before each re-application. 

While the sores heal, either stay off the bike, or ride a bike where the way your crotch contacts the saddle is sufficiently different. Wear breathable underwear made of natural fibers. 

Using this method, any saddle sores I get go away within 2-3 days. For anything more serious I have no advice, as I've never experienced it myself. Needless to say, if your sores are not going away, consider seeing a doctor.

As far as prevention, there is of course the common sense advice: Find a saddle and shorts that work for you. Increase distances gradually. Use chamois cream to reduce friction. Be sure to shower before and after every ride. And always, always wear clean shorts. However, this is not always sufficient. Even the cleanest, most hygienic pair of shorts will turn into a bacterial cesspool after 10+ hours of riding. Even the most comfortable saddle can start to chafe eventually. And even if you start a ride squeaky clean, you will soon get filthy. That is to say, I don't think there is a sure prevention method once you start doing long distances. Some riders are more prone to saddle sores than others and some situations (such as hot weather) are more likely to cause them. You just have to deal with it when you get them. Hopefully for most of you saddle sores are just an occasional nuisance and not a serious problem. 

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Listening to cyclists' stories about their first long or difficult rides, I often hear things like "Afterward, I wanted to throw my bike away" or "The next day, I couldn't even look at my bike."

It always struck me as interesting how the feelings of pain and exhaustion caused by riding can become associated with the bike itself. In a sense, it is easier to think of the bike, a concrete object, as the source of our discomfort than it is of a deficiency in fitness or endurance on our part. We look at the bike and remember how we felt during that hard ride. It's not so much that we literally blame the bicycle, as that the bike becomes a signifier of the pain and exhaustion we experienced. That feeling of wanting to throw it out, or not wanting to look at it, is a way of dealing with frustration over our own limitations. And of course this is in addition to the possibility that the bike itself is at least partly to blame - be it through saddle discomfort, harshness of ride, inappropriate gearing, or bad positioning.

If only mildly, I have had my share of all this. I've overdone it before, to the point of fatigue at the mere sight of a bike that only time away from it could cure.

But I am thinking of this now, because more recently I've experienced something of the opposite. Still feeling battered and drained after an especially tough ride, the morning after I walked past the bike and thought about how much I loved it, and about how much I loved cycling. It was an unexpected reaction, having tumbled out of bed feeling as if a train had run over me. After a day of passion and heartbreak, it feels good to still love it all, and to want to ride again tomorrow. 

Speaking of Saddles

Earlier this week I was visiting Cycle Loft - a local bicycle shop known, among other things, for its extensive fit studio. I will be test riding a few of their bikes this summer, and the staff suggested I undergo a fitting session beforehand. As we were getting started, the fitter - Joel - caught sight of the Selle Anatomica I was riding. He asked whether I wanted to use my own saddle, given how particular it was, or try something new.

Today there are lots of high quality, well thought-out saddle designs on the market, in a variety of materials. The trick is to find one that fits our particular anatomy, position and riding style. For the past two years I've been going back and forth between a Berthoud touring saddle and a Selle Anatomica on my roadbikes. These saddles are as close as I've been able to get to being truly comfortable over long distances. But neither is perfect. So I decided to keep an open mind and see what the fitter recommended.

To start with, Joel measured my sit bones. This is something I've never had done "professionally" before, so it was pretty exciting. Cycle Loft uses the Specialized "Body Fit" method, which, as I understand it, is comparatively un-intrusive (no pelvic fondling, etc.). But there is a nifty device involved. A stool was brought out with a butt-shaped pillow, upon which I sat as instructed. When I stood up, my sit bones left two clear indentations, which Joel swiftly measured.

The figure was 135mm - considerably narrower than what I thought my sit bone width was based on my DIY measurements (the figure I'd come up with was more like 150mm). But we repeated the process just to make sure and got the same number again - so looks like 135mm it is.

Joel explained that a saddle should be wider than the sit bone width itself. How much wider depends partly on the rider's position and partly on the saddle's shape. As far as the rider's position, the more leaned forward you are, the narrower area of support is needed. That much I'd known. As far as saddle shape, Joel showed me a selection or road/racing saddles and pointed out that on some the sitting surface was flat across, while on others it was rounded, like an arc. For all my careful scrutiny of saddle shapes, this was not a distinction I'd explicitly been aware of before, so I was excited to learn something new. For any given rider, on a rounded saddle the width needs to be greater than on a flat saddle.

According to the fit chart, the saddle width recommended for my sit bones was 155mm minimum. My Berthoud saddle (which is flat) measures 160mm across, and my Selle Anatomica (which is rounded) measures 170mm across. My comfort with both makes sense according to this fit method.

Next, Joel asked what I liked and disliked about the saddles I normally use. I explained that my saddles are fairly wide across the rear, yet have narrow, racing-style noses. The wide rear and narrow nose combination works for me, because this way my butt feels fully supported but I don't get thigh-rub. Other saddles I've tried tend to be either too narrow or too wide all around, which doesn't work. I also like the feel of suspended leather, compared to other surfaces I've tried.

As far as what I don't like, that is a little trickier to explain. The Berthoud feels a bit too hard, whereas the Selle Anatomica has a bit too much give. And with each, I occasionally - at random times, it seems - feel pressure or pinching in the middle of my "soft tissue." It happens rarely now compared to the problems I used to have, but it does still happen occasionally. We discussed all this in detail, as well as the other saddles I've tried. I described my dislike of gel (I sink into it and feel horrible pressure), my inability to ride Terry saddles (the slots are somehow in the wrong place), and finding the edges of many racing saddles "too sharp" as I pedal.

After taking all of this in, Joel suggested I try the Romin Evo saddle by Specialized (interesting write-up about it here). It had everything I seemed to need: a rounded wide rear (168mm across), a narrow nose, and a firm, but not rock-hard, surface. A channel down the middle and a curved nose were designed to avoid contact with exactly the pressure-prone spots I'd identified. It is not a woman-specific saddle, but then neither are my own. A synthetic saddle made by a big-name manufacturer, it was not what I would normally gravitate toward, but I'd said I would be open minded, and so I would.

The Romin Evo is now fitted on the demo bike I'm riding. I could not feel it under me on the initial 30 mile ride, but I will withhold judgment until after the follow-up, 100K ride.

But whether this particular saddle wins me over is beside the point. What I appreciated the most was the generally informative conversation with the fitter - who I felt was neutral and knowledgeable when it came to various styles, materials, aesthetics and brands of saddles. I would like to keep learning myself, and at some point to post a comprehensive guide that might be of help to those at a loss for where to start.

Apres-Cycling: the Wine Bottle Massage

I know what you're thinking. "What, don't you own a rolling pin?" Well of course I do. But I use it for printmaking, so it lives in my studio. Luckily, what I lack in baking paraphernalia, I make up for in empty wine bottles. It's not that I drink a lot of wine, but that I tend to keep the empties for years - using them as flower vases and such. So when I came home holding my thighs today and my eye searched for something rolling pin-like, a tall bottle from a Spanish red fit the bill.

It's been a while since my legs felt this tight after a ride; I have low gears on my bikes and use them. But after two long, climbing-intensive rides a couple of days apart, a massage was in order.

There are different ways to go about doing this on your own, and here is what I do: I sit on the floor with my legs stretched out in front of me. The massage can be done on bare legs or over clothing, such as loose pajama bottoms (just not anything made of thick fabric, like jeans). I hold the bottle firmly, in one or both hands (there is no second handle as you would have on a rolling pin, but it still works okay), and move it in a gentle rolling motion up and down whatever muscles feel tight, in long strokes, at an even pressure. I use light to medium pressure, but others press harder - whatever feels right. Also, some prefer to sit on a chair, rather than stretched out on the floor. Try it both ways and see what feels better. If you need to do the back of your legs and don't have anyone to help, you can do it yourself standing up. A little awkward, but doable. Either way, this simple leg massage technique works surprisingly well on stiff, achy, or even just tired leg muscles in a fairly short amount of time. I have even seen cyclists do this during rides - using their mini bicycle pumps.

Of course if you have an unopened bottle of wine, you could combine the bottle massage with a glass of its contents for that extra bit of relaxation. A versatile product to keep on hand.

Bike Fit, How Does It Work?

Preparing my roadbike for the first skinny tire ride of Spring, I realised it's now been over a year since I've had it. And, looking at the somewhat unsightly spacer poking out above the stem I realised something else: My road position hasn't changed over that time. That bit of steerer was left uncut in case the handlebars turned out to be too low for comfort, which did not happen. The spacer below the stem has remained in place as well. Considering that prior to a year ago my position was in constant flux, it's nice to finally feel settled in.

Alas, this has not given me any great insights into the topic of bike fit. I have seen huge variations in the positions of people I ride with, each of them apparently suiting the rider just fine. I have also been exposed to a number of fit philosophies - each yielding a different conclusion about the size and setup of the bike I ought to be riding. Seasoned cyclists often advise new riders to "have an expert fitting." But depending on which philosophy the fitter subscribes to, results will vary.

Since my bike is a Seven and Seven Cycles are known for their fit methodology, I am occasionally asked to describe the fit process I went through. While I don't think my experience was typical, this seems like a good occasion to share it, so here goes:

When I first tried a Seven demo bike two summers ago, they set it up to match the position of my own bicycle. At the time, I was riding a bike with a long top tube, short stem, handlebars slightly above saddle height, and saddle pushed back to slacken an already relaxed seat tube even further. Setting up the demo bike to match mine was contrary to what I had expected going into the test ride. But Seven's Rob Vandermark suggested I start from a point of familiarity. Set up in this manner, the Seven felt good, and with the fit already familiar I could focus on its ride quality and speed. But this was a long term demo, and when I began taking part in fast group rides that summer I found myself squirming around: bending my elbows dramatically and scooting forward in the saddle. When I communicated this to Rob, he suggested some small changes, including moving the saddle forward and lowering the bars. When this adjustment was made, it felt like a step in the right direction. Eventually I was riding the bike with a straight seatpost and the handlebars placed as low as the frame would allow. It still wasn't quite right, as the frame was simply too large. But it felt better than my previous position.

Later that Fall, I built up a small vintage racing frame with modern components, based on the ideas of fit I picked up from the summer's experience. This bike had a short top tube and long stem, and handlebars just below saddle height. Though I sensed it could still use some tweaking, overall I was now very pleased with my position. When I decided to buy a Seven for the coming spring, I came in with this bike and was measured again, as well as observed and asked questions while I rode on a trainer. The kind of things that were examined and discussed were: my cadence, where I keep my hands on the bars, how much time I spend out of the saddle, my back and shoulder position, the position of my feet on the pedals, and lots of other little things that I no doubt missed. Moreover, this was also the time I became involved with the Ride Studio Cafe cycling club (a Seven Cycles dealer) - taking part in their group rides and loitering in the shop. So my formal fit experience was no doubt supplemented by their getting to know me and my riding style. There is talk of a famous 50 page questionnaire that Seven customers fill out, but I have never seen such a document; I assume it was filled out on my behalf during and after the fitting session. I did sign off on a build form in the end, and hoped for the best.

When I got the new bike, it fit differently than anything I had ridden previously, but I was left with no doubt it was the "right" fit for me. There was a sense of everything falling into place. My hands knew where the hoods were and plopped right down; my legs felt integrated with the cranks and pedals. I didn't question any aspect of the positioning. Any other roadbike I've ridden since, I try to adjust to the same specs. Depending on a bike's size and geometry, it doesn't always work - but the closer I can get it, the better it feels to ride.

And by better, I don't mean abstract notions of "position X will make me faster/ more comfortable than position Y." Neither do I have a template in mind of what constitutes proper road fit or of what looks correct. Rather, I mean physically better - proven through personal experience to feel both more comfortable, more efficient and less fatiguing. I notice, for instance, that contrary to one popular narrative, my back hurts less with the handlebars set a bit lower. And contrary to another, my legs feel better with the saddle at a steeper, rather than a slacker angle over the bottom bracket. I don't presume that the same holds true for every rider and for every style of riding, but I can't ignore evidence of what works for me. No doubt in the future, my position on the bike will continue to evolve. At what point and in which direction I don't know yet. But for now it might be safe to cut down the extra bit of steerer - affectionately referred to as the "sternum puncher" by some of my riding friends.

Funny thing: I know about half a dozen female roadcyclists who are almost identical to me in size and who all do similar types of riding. When we try each other's bikes, hilarity ensues: The fit is all wrong. Yet we each find our own positions comfortable. And all of us have had expert fittings.

As these things go, I sometimes get bike fit advice from strangers when I am out and about. It is split pretty much evenly between (a)"Your setup is way too aggressive," (b)"Your setup is not aggressive enough," and (c)"That bike is set up just right!" I have a feeling that no matter what my bike looked like, this distribution would remain about the same.

Velo Vision

About a year ago, I started to notice that I couldn't see things in the distance as well as I used to. I could read and see up close just the same as before, but things far away were losing their clarity. I noticed this most of all while cycling. The landscape was not as sharp as it once was, far-away roadsigns were more difficult to read, faces of people riding toward me were harder to recognise. As someone who's always had perfect eyesight, I had no prior experience with vision loss and it took me a while to acknowledge what was happening. But finally I went to have an eye exam and the loss of "perfect" status in the eyesight department was confirmed. I was given a prescription for glasses that the doctor said I would need mostly "for driving."

I expected shopping for glasses to be a nightmare, for the same reason finding a decent pair of cycling sunglasses had been a nightmare. But I underestimated modern technology and our neightbourhood's offering of optical shops. Picking up friends' glasses in the past, I remember them being heavy. But apparently eyeglasses today can be made extremely lightweight - with high-tech plastic and titanium frames. There is also enormous variety in shapes and sizes. I had no problem finding some that fit my face and weighed next to nothing. 

With cycling in mind, I got a pair with plastic frames and photochromic lenses. They cover a good part of my face, and the lenses turn dark in the sun, but clear at night. I have already worn them on a couple of rides and the fit is very comfortable. But wearing corrective lenses will take some getting used to! Everything in the distance now looks unnaturally sharp, or hyper-3-D. My feel for how close or far away objects are is a little disturbed by this, but I am assuming my brain will adjust eventually. 

Another thing that's happening, is that while the glasses correct my far-away vision, they do so at the expense of making things blurry up close. On the bike, this means that I can't really see anything that's directly in front of me or at handlebar level (i.e. the cycling computer on my roadbike) unless I take them off or look underneath the lenses. I am still working out how to adapt to this. Meanwhile, it's a relief to see clearly at a distance again.