Plus Size Women's Cycling Clothes: An Update (sort of)

*** Note: This is probably the last time I'll be able to request your assistance here on the blog before the contest ends, so if you have yet to vote, please take a very brief moment and head here to the Pedal the Plains contest page, click "like" (on 'Steeling a Ride'), or make a comment on that specific photo. If you have voted, I thank you so very much. If you have friends/family/neighbors/strangers on the street you can talk into liking the photo too, that would be amazing. You can also vote on Twitter or Instagram using #steeling AND @pedaltheplains. A bit more info can be found by clicking here.Voting ends this Friday at 5p (I presume MST, but don't wait until the last moment). Thanks! :O) ***

Occasionally, I write here about my frustration with finding appropriate fitting cycling clothing. As someone who does not meet the societal expectations of the typical-bodied cyclist, it's frustrating to look for comfortable, decent looking, well-fitting cycling clothes. For every day riding, I find wearing my regular clothes to be sufficient. Most of my wardrobe consists of wool or cotton, both of which breathe well and are easy to launder. However, when it comes to distance cycling, there are just realities to what is needed to be comfortable. Padded shorts are a necessity to keep from bruising of soft tissue and wearing super loose fitting tops just causes excess flapping of material against the skin. Wearing every day clothing to participate in more sport-type riding has not been horribly successful for me, so I'm always on the hunt for things that work.

There are a few brands/companies out there that stock larger sized women's cycling apparel. However, what is considered "larger" by cycling standards is not what is typically thought of in every day clothing as bigger. In every day clothing, I often fall in the middle of the spectrum between what is considered misses sizes in the U.S. and plus sizes. It is beneficial in that I can shop both sides of the aisle, but when it comes to cycling clothing, most items run snug (to put it nicely), so looking at plus sized options is often my only choice. Therein lies the problem.

Wearing a wool Ibex jersey and Terry cycling knickers in 2012 at the start of Venus de Miles

It's been three years since I wrote about my hunt for plus-sized wool cycling clothing for women (and four years since my original rant), and I am sad to say that nothing seems to have changed. Well, my body has changed a bit, but not enough to make this a non-issue. At this juncture, it would be nice to be able to find any material in cycling clothing that isn't unattractive and fits well. I know that all things take time, but I also hold on to similar beliefs that I had years ago... there simply must not be the demand or someone would be making these items. Still, I find that my post from three years ago gets a decent number of hits from Google, so I know I'm not alone out there on the roads. In fact I see me (and my brethren --  or sistren -- Okay, now I'm just making up words) quite regularly even here in one of the fittest states in the U.S.

My biggest beef with all of this is that no one should be punished for trying to work out - regardless of his/her size - and not being able to find appropriate clothing is punishment in my eyes (sometimes physically in that it can be painful to ride in ill-fitting/inappropriate clothes, and definitely emotionally when frustration sinks in from too many searches and not enough results). Clothing that can be found is sparse at best. Instead of having endless options for chamois thickness, materials, or lengths, there is often 1 to (if lucky) 3 choices to be found. The gap gets worse the larger a person's size too.

*Image from Road Holland

Complaining about this on a blog obviously does nothing to resolve the issue, so I did put together a small list of a few places that offer some solutions - even if it's still not exactly what I'd like to see.

Pearl Izumi stocks up to size XXL in women's cycling clothing and seems to run more true to size (generally speaking) than most cycling apparel, but they do not offer any extended options beyond.

Team Estrogen has sizes up to 4X in their "plus size" specialty shop from a variety of manufacturers, but fit has been very iffy for me on most of the brands they stock (from being far too baggy and/or too long to being too small to simply not sitting right on the body) including Terry, Canari, SheBeest, Moving Comfort (though the items I've found with M.C. have no padding and are more basic workout type clothes). Additionally, much of what is stocked is non-cycling specific gear, and the items that are cycling-specific tend to be unappealing aesthetically and/or ill-fitting.

When visiting Terry's plus size specific pages, the options are all-too-often few and far between. I have found the larger sizes in the regular sizes can have an acceptable fit for me personally (but this varies quite a bit and is always a gamble), but why isn't there a cross over to include the same options in larger sizes?

Aerotech offers a few items for both men and women who require larger sizes, but for women, much like Team Estrogen's site, the same brands are available (from Terry, Canari, etc) and are limited.

I was happy to learn from one of the owners himself that Road Holland offers shorts and jerseys up to size 3XL in women's (and I even wrote a bit about them - women's and men's, if you're interested). I do love these jerseys, but am still hoping they'll make bibs for women again and even branch out into possibly a sleeveless version of the full-zip jerseys.

My understanding is that at one point Icebreaker offered women's sizes up to 2XL, but I have not seen anything over an XL size on their website for some time now, and cycling jerseys and shorts seem to have completely disappeared.

Many of the women on cycling forums who run into sizing issues seem to head straight to men's clothing as an option, but clothing is definitely cut differently for men and women, not to mention that larger men have a difficult time finding options, which is to say that there is still often a limit in sizes for men's cycling gear as well.

Although I could rant on about the injustice and difficulty of finding the right items, I'm actually pondering the idea of making some sample items myself. I am by no means a seamstress and about the best I can usually manage is a half-way decent hem on a pair of pants, but I figure it's worth a shot - even if it's just a test for myself. In fact, I even have a couple yards of merino wool on its way to me to experiment with (since that is my preferred fabric). While I realize nothing will likely come from it, I feel as though I have to do something to ease the frustration.

If you've been on a hunt for larger women's cycling clothing, what has been your experience? Do you have brands to add to the list above? If so, please feel free to comment. When I wrote a few years ago, I had been in contact with a few different cycling gear manufacturers who had spoke about the possibility of extended sizing, but that doesn't seem to have happened (and goodness knows if history is an indicator, there won't be much variety available). Has anyone else had better luck?

**I'm editing this post to add SprintDesign to the list. When I made the original list I'd completely forgot about them, but I appreciate that they offer sizes from youth all the way up through size 6XL (both men's and women's). To be fair, I have never ordered from them, and they are in Australia, but they have an extensive collection and lots of options, so it is possibly something to check out as well. If anyone has ordered through them, please feel free to chime in. I'd be interested in hearing your experiences.

Giving up bicycles

I am through with bicycles.

That was the brief and only contents of an email sent recently. I was, without mincing words, pissed off. I despise the fact that I go through so many emotions when it comes to bikes, but there reaches a point at which all of the seemingly little things - the ill-fitting equipment, the too-often moronic motorists, the non-compliant weather, etcetera - come together in a brief span of time and I arrive home wanting to literally throw my bicycle in the trash. So, as I returned home after an extremely brief ride one day, I could feel the anger boiling inside. I was shaking visibly, and since no one was around for me to take out my hostilities, I sent the five-word email and decided that I'd had enough of dealing with bicycles and their "drama."

*Image here

Just days before, I had been in conversation about the prospect of building a custom frame. While not in love with the costs involved in such an endeavor, I was excited about the possibility of having a frame that might actually fit properly. I had been wavering back and forth about whether or not this would be the thing to do, but those from whom I'd sought advice thought it seemed a good idea. Heading to a local shop, I said the magic words... "Okay, let me know what I need to do to move forward." After which, I immediately felt ill. I want a bicycle that fits properly, but I definitely don't want to spend the money. I have a bike that's close to a good fit, but I still experience pains and numbness and was hopeful that a custom frame would be the answer. Now, as I sat reviewing the 5-mile ride I'd just returned from, I wasn't sure I wanted a custom bike, nor any bike for that matter.

The morning had been chilly, so I worked for several hours, thinking that a ride later in the day might be a better choice. I made the mistake of eating just before I set out, and unfortunately, I was feeling it a little more than I'd prefer. The heat of the day had also arrived quicker than I'd anticipated and the air seemed far warmer and thicker than the actual temperature would indicate. Additionally, I had opted to try out a different pair of shoes this day. I'd been experimenting with shoes/pedals/etc in an attempt to resolve some foot issues while riding. Pollen was flying through the air all around me as I stood over the bike preparing to set out. Despite my head already throbbing with an allergy-induced pounding, I wanted to ride. I had a route in mind - something rarely tackled by my brain before venturing out. So, I was going whether the circumstances seemed in my favor or not.

As I rolled down the hill from home, I realized I'd left my gloves sitting in the bike storage. I had decided it would be a good idea to check the air in the tires before rolling out and could picture exactly where I'd left them. Ah, well... I would continue on. As I rounded the corner at the bottom of the hill, I realized there was an incredible strain taking place in my shoulders and neck. I tried wiggling a bit and stretching to see if it would work itself out to no avail. Then suddenly, I was instantly aware of all the issues taking place on the bike: the saddle was tipped up way too high, the handlebars had a reach that suddenly seemed to grow many inches in just seconds, the bars were tipped too far forward, and so on.

Over the prior weekend, Sam and I had taken the bike out to make adjustments in an attempt to improve the fit. We were convinced that minor changes could make a huge difference, so if we went together, Sam could see how my position might appear off, and I could describe what exactly was taking place physically. We'd made so many changes by the end of that ride, I was numb to everything. I had decided after our second hour on the bikes that we should just leave it alone and I would take the bike out later to make another round of adjustments, if needed.

And, oh boy, were adjustments needed. Stopping the bike after a few miles, I decided I was going to make the fixes because I wanted to ride. I frequently struggle with adjusting the tipping of the saddle, so I decided to focus on the handlebars. I loosened the bottom screw on the handlebar stem and then went after the top screw. Except, it wouldn't budge. With all of my might, I sat on the side of the road attempting to release the screw. I grunted and groaned, and muttered to myself about Sam making everything so tight that vice grips are needed to release them. "How am I supposed to make changes if I can't even get the damn screw loose!" I yelled to no one, as I stood in a small patch of dusty pea gravel beside the road. Perhaps another cyclist would ride by, I thought. It's a frequently ridden road for many in the area and there was a chance someone would be kind enough to help me get the screw loose. But, I had ventured out after lunch time and the odds of a cyclist pedaling by were unlikely.

For fifteen minutes I tried different methods to release the screw, but it was no use. My hands were in so much pain at this point that I had no grip left. The indentations left on my hands by the wrenches on my bike tool were getting worse, and I was aware that I wasn't going to be able to continue riding. I didn't really want to ride at this point, so I walked across the road, about faced, got back on the bike, and feeling defeated, started pedaling home. I had quickly gone from happy and determined to angry and discouraged, and there didn't seem to be any turning back.

It's amusing that when one thing goes wrong, it all seems to domino from that point. Even the littlest of happenings seems to add exponentially to the internal turmoil, and it's easy to think back on the start and believe that everything that was taking place, all of the "signs" that it wasn't my day, all of these moments were a means of telling me not to leave the house. Normally, I can let things go, but on days like this, the world seems to be against me. I turn into a bratty child, throwing internal tantrums and believing that I am "not meant to ride a bike." I convince myself that it is too difficult to get things set up properly and that it's not worth the pain.

As I continued home, muttering to myself, I am shook from my internal world of thoughts by a car that has stopped dead in front of me. "Seriously?" I state aloud. I'm on a hill - the hill home - and definitely don't want to lose what little momentum I have. The grade is steep, and stopping and re-starting is unpleasant to say the least even when I'm not in a foul mood; but today - today, I really don't need this. The driver, who is on her cell phone, motions for me to go behind her. "I can't... you're blocking the path," I say. Not that she can hear me as she is quite obviously caught up in her (I'm sure, highly important - [insert sarcastic eye roll]) phone call. She sits, continuing to talk, as I shake my head and feel the anger rising inside. "Are you blind? There is a sign right there (I motion to the sign clearly posted) to watch for cyclists!" Again, she has no interest in me and isn't even aware of my mouth moving, nor my frustration level. I call her a choice name and she finally moves so I am able to continue on.

Arriving home, I am beat. I have traveled just over 5 miles and feel as though I've ridden 60+ miles. I sulk into the house, truly believing that I am never, ever, riding a bicycle again. "Cancel my frame order, shut down the blog," I tell the dogs as I pout my way through the house, dropping pieces of cycling paraphernalia as I go. "I'm done." Then, a quick stop to send the e-mail to Sam... "I am through with bicycles."

Sam responds wanting to know what happened. I don't bother to reply. When I don't send a message back, he calls, but I don't pick up. I have no interest in engaging in conversation or discussion about my feelings. I am simply done. I don't want to be in pain, I don't want to struggle with bikes, and I don't want someone attempting to talk me out of my (entirely reasonable... at least in that moment) desire to sell every bicycle I own. Instead, I sit in my stupor, wondering why I ever learned to ride a bike and why on earth I returned to riding them more and more frequently over the last several years.

Lost in heated, resentful thought, I stew in my self-made concoction of three-year old child outbursts and contempt. Slowly, however, I become aware that I am telling myself, "Well, perhaps I'll keep just the Hillborne. I may actually ride that one." Those little slivers of truth keep sneaking into my thoughts. "I can't sell the Soma," is the next one to find its way into my consciousness, followed by, "I need the Trek. It's the road bike that fits the best at the moment."

I try to fight the thoughts. I want to hate my bikes right now and I never want to ride again. Bicycles are stupid. There are other activities to engage in without riding a bike. Think about the agony of trying to find one that fits properly, think about the near-death experiences with drivers, and think about the pain of trying to build on mileage each spring and summer... all for what?

But it's too late. The positive moments are already flooding my mind. The memories of seeing that cruiser bike for my birthday and riding all over, no matter what anyone said was a reasonable distance to cover on it. The casual rides to nowhere that were fun just because there was absolutely no purpose in them other than enjoying being outside. The rides with friends who are just getting on bikes again as adults and sharing their new experiences. The first road bike and the realization that I could cover more territory so much faster. My first century ride, despite believing it was impossible to complete.

What would I do without a bicycle? It's become more than I ever thought it could be. I use it for transportation, to clear my head when it's full of thoughts that need to be released, for exercise, for training, for adventure, to challenge what I think is possible. Bicycles are simple, yet beautiful. They are reminders that even as technology changes, a bicycle remains relatively consistent. Our two-wheeled device is capable of giving so much and asks so little in return.

By the time evening hit, it was kickboxing time. Without even thinking, I move toward bike storage to retrieve the Hillborne and head to class. Rolling down the same hill I'd ridden just hours before, I smile. Riding around is always fun, and being with Sam on a bike is the best. I love this bike, I think as we roll over bumps and rocks. "Maybe we can try again this weekend with the adjustments on the other one?" I ask Sam as we ride side by side. He nods in response and I realize there is no giving up something I think about almost constantly. I'm hooked for life.

The Frustration of Bicycles

The first time I really started riding a bicycle in adulthood was about 8 years ago. I was looking for some cross-training ideas and Sam tossed out the idea of riding a bike. I kind of laughed because most of my memories of riding a bike involved something heavy and unable to get up overpasses in my youth (though I had a lot of fond memories as well). After borrowing one of his mountain bikes to commute on and ride just about anywhere, I became a bit addicted to seeing how far I could go. Even though his bikes were incredibly painful for my hands and wrists, I couldn't seem to stop riding. When I decided I didn't want to be in pain anymore while riding, things kind of shifted. It started with a cruiser bike (which I adored!) and blossomed into what has, in essence, become this blog.

Electra Daisy 3i, AKA "Stuart" - the bike that started it all

Fast forward to today. I still love riding, but my frustration with bicycles still remain - in a different form. I don't know if it's something innately human, or if it is a strange quirk of my own, but I have tried for several years to limit the number of bikes in the household and to try to find that "one perfect bike." Along the way, I have learned that it just isn't possible for me to have that singular bike that does everything, and I've accepted that as long as I want to engage in different types of riding, one bike isn't going to cut it. The one bike that seems to elude me repeatedly is THE road bike. For many years, I resisted the idea of a road bike at all. Even when I got the Hillborne, I didn't think of it as a "road bike" because I didn't think of myself as a roadie by any stretch. Although I still don't think of myself as a road cyclist, I do want to engage in faster road rides and the reality of the Hillborne is that it's just not able to keep up with the speed of others. I can ride it alone just fine, knowing that it's heavier and will be a bit slower, but if I have any hope of keeping up with others, it needs to be lighter weight. However, the Hillborne is an awesomely perfect all-around bike. I can take it on the road, I can take it to the grocery store, and anywhere else I desire. I can load him up and make him heavy and he still handles well.  Best of all, it's comfortable for long distances. I've pondered the idea of stripping him down, but he still wouldn't be as light as other typical road bikes, and additionally, it wouldn't be as functional as my every day bike.

Rivendell A. Homer Hilsen

Enter the Homer. When purchasing the Homer, I had high hopes that it would become the road bike for faster rides. It is lighter than the Hillborne, handles well, and is quite comfortable... however, the trouble I still have with this bike is its slowness - or rather my inability to get it to speeds I want to see. Downhill rides are fabulous and I can easily pass just about anyone; but, on level ground or climbs, it's still too heavy to keep up.

Torelli Express

Over the last several months there have been a few attempts to find that perfect fit. The Torelli is a fabulous bike and I love how zippy I feel on it. Even if I am not as fast as others, it feels faster and I know that my averages were higher even on lone rides. The problem with this bike is that the top tube is too long and even with a shorter stem, I return from rides with a strained neck that lasts for several days up to a week. Again, I'm not looking to be in that sort of pain. I don't mind soreness, but pain due to improper size or set up isn't okay.

Whitcomb frame/fork from 1981 - I should know better; I have the "red bike curse" to contend with

A Whitcomb (which I still haven't wrote about - but I will get there, I promise) frame and fork was purchased with the hopes that this vintage ride could be the answer. However, even after setting it up with lightweight parts, it seemed to weigh more than the Homer and just doesn't have the peppiness I was hoping for in a road bike. I do, however, think this could make a fabulous bike for other purposes that I will be writing about in the future.

The more recent purchase was a Mercier that Sam purchased online, believing that it could be the perfect fit. Using the lightweight parts from the other failed builds, he set this one up and took it for a spin. He thought it seemed great and sent me out to give it a whirl. On my first ride out, however, it felt, well, odd, and as though I was going to be sent over the handlebars at any moment. It still didn't seem to have that feel I was looking for and had the added "bonus" of fitting strangely.

I've looked at a slew of bikes and thought, "maybe this one," but I can't spend (nor do I have it to spend) endless money on bicycles.  In many ways, I need to take my own past advice and realize that if one cannot test ride a bicycle before buying, this is, unfortunately, what often happens. It's a huge trial and error process and getting frustrated helps no one. That, however, doesn't stop the frustration from taking place. Figuring out the next move is even more aggravating. Sam thinks that spending a smaller amount and continuing to try out frames is a good way to go. Some days I agree with him; other days, I have varying thoughts. I think about the idea of selling off everything except the Hillborne to fund a titanium road bike or something that I can find locally and actually try it before buying. However, even those test rides are often short and don't always provide the best insight into what will actually work over longer distances. I've considered renting a road bike for a longer term testing period at one of the local bike shops and moving forward from there, but that has its own costs associated with it, and it could end up being more expensive than the buying-and-selling merry-go-round process currently taking place.

Unfortunately, I don't necessarily have the answer at this moment in time, but I know that if I want to pursue road rides, I have to keep on with this process in some form. For someone who just wants to go out and ride, it is an amazingly daunting and time-consuming process. So much so, that I've had thoughts of just giving up the idea of finding what I'm looking for and riding what I have in whatever way I am able. I don't give up quite that easily though, so I have no doubt there is more trial and error in the future. At least I can take some solace knowing that there are others who have endured their own frustrations with finding the right bike - in whatever form that is for the individual - and know that eventually, the right one will come along.