 of the night. The Middle-aged Man in Lycra (Mamil), with all his bells and whistles, gadgets and gizmos, has – it would appear – become a gatekeeper of all things cycling. But at what cost? I know many people who feel so alienated by this sometimes-macho clique that they've been put off the pastime entirely. Moreover, most cycling holidays have now become poorer for it, too. And rather than sticking to a lazier, less pretentious, (and, in my opinion, much more fulfilling) formula of old, many tour operators now pander to the adrenaline-charged peloton. A two-wheeled sojourn on the Algarve or Amalfi Coast shouldn't leave you feeling like you're qualifying for the Olympics, or peer pressured into being anyone you're not. A cycling holiday should leave you sun-kissed and well rested. And there's no shame in putting on a few pounds in the process, either. Here are 10 ways that the Lycra brigade has ruined cycling holidays. Such is the collective arrogance of some Mamils, en masse, that they forget there are other, non-cycling mortals on this planet, too. Just because your bicycles cost £10,000 each, doesn't give you the right to park them in the middle of a busy café or restaurant. There's an old lady struggling to navigate her Zimmer frame to the loos. Move over, Captain Spandex! I couldn't care less if you, or anyone else, has cycled this route faster than I have. I'm going at my own speed and living in the real, analogue world, here and now. Strava so often seems to fee){kind=link}
Lazy lunches with half bottles of red and thick slabs of focaccia have been replaced by energy gels and protein shakes
“If it’s not on Strava it didn’t really happen,” heckled a middle-aged male voice from beneath the theatre lights, at one of my recent multimedia talks, looking back on a bike ride around Britain. How could I be so stupid as to cycle 3,500 miles around the country and not record every single twist and turn for posterity?
Of course, the jibe was mostly tongue-in-cheek. But like all the best gags, it was rooted in some truth, and therefore received one of the biggest laughs (and collective groans) of the night.
The Middle-aged Man in Lycra (Mamil), with all his bells and whistles, gadgets and gizmos, has – it would appear – become a gatekeeper of all things cycling. But at what cost? I know many people who feel so alienated by this sometimes-macho clique that they’ve been put off the pastime entirely.
Moreover, most cycling holidays have now become poorer for it, too. And rather than sticking to a lazier, less pretentious, (and, in my opinion, much more fulfilling) formula of old, many tour operators now pander to the adrenaline-charged peloton.