Lexi Miller

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November: Three places for your hands

When I first started riding, I had to learn about a lot of things: routes, wardrobe, nutrition, clipping in, where to put my hands.  That last one?  Yeah, I mean, of course my hands go on the bars but there are options.

1. On the hoods: Here is where you’ll spend most of your time.  Fingers are on the shifters/brake levers where you can easily shift or stop should you need to quickly.  Hands should also be here when you get up out of the saddle.

2. Up top on the bars: This is a great place for your hands to be when you don’t need to use them for anything but steering.  Great for: climbing (in the saddle), flat roads with no obstacles, turns or stop signs in sight.  It’s also good to place your hands here for a change in posture.   

3. In the drops: Put your hands here while descending, or if you want to be more aerodynamic on the flats, or for a change in posture.  Don’t ride in this position if you’re in the middle of a group, anywhere urban, or in any place where you need to see obstacles and react quickly.  If your hands are low, your vision is low as well.  Keep in mind that your hands are stronger in this position so be careful when you brake.

xo Alexis

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October: Three things that make our textiles awesome.

I often hear the question “why so expensive?” when it comes to our products.  The two factors that go into price are labor and materials.  We manufacture in California where we are proud to say we know the factory, we’ve been there many times, and the employees have weekends and fresh air, just like we do.  When it comes to materials, I searched high and low for just the right black spandex.  It’s amazing how much variety there is, even when you narrow it down to two fibers, nylon and spandex.  How could there be so much variation in the way similar fabrics look, feel, and perform?  

Most of us don’t realize how many hands touch a finished product.  The textiles themselves have a life the predates their exit out of the mill.  Even raw materials are made from other raw materials.  Our fabric vendors source the fibers and then weave them into the magic that they are.  Raw materials plus manufacturing practices are what set our textiles apart.  It’s a difference that might be subtle at first glance, but you’ll notice after a few rides. 

1. Lycra.  What we all generally call “spandex” is the stretchy elastane fiber that allows our clothes to move with us.  The actual fibers that provide that elasticity matter.  There’s good spandex and better spandex.  Our fabrics are constructed with Lycra, which is a proprietary, branded name for their elastane fibers.  Lycra is the best in the business and the quality shows.  The fabrics that we use stretch as needed, but they also retain their elasticity, recovering from their stretched state.    

2. Dyeing technology.  Like everything, there’s a fast n’ cheap way to do things, and there’s a more labor intensive way to do things.  Our textiles are dyed using technology that makes the color last, and appear as if the fibers themselves were made that way.  Cheap dyeing techniques result in color not being uniform, or seeming to sit on top of the fabric, with a shiny painted-on looking finish.  Fast n’ cheap also results in colors bleeding in to one another, and fading over time.

3. Knitting technology.  The knitting construction is key: our fabrics are much more compact than normal knits, yet they are still lightweight.  Thanks to this, our fabrics are lighter but not transparent, with better coverage, better recovery and long lasting elasticity even after many washes.       

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September: Being a late bloomer.

When I was a kid, I thought that adults got to “adulthood” by following a very formulaic, linear, upward trajectory that went something like this: go to school, do your homework, take tests, get into college, get a job, be an adult, do adult things.  Oh, and know everything.  Around age 30 or so, the trajectory plateaus and adults just hum along in a sort of nirvana, as fully ripened people who essentially are done learning.  This plan involved copious suits, serious intellectual conversation, and so much type-A stuff.  

Adulthood, as I now understand and live it is much different.  I feel like my life really began when I turned 30, looked back at my 12 year old self and thought "HA!  What the #$%^ were you thinking?”.  By 30, I had approached a few forks in the proverbial road of life.  Some were well planned, thoughtful transitions over time.  Others felt like I was flying down the road at 90 miles an hour, yanked in one direction and tossed out of the car.  Momentarily shaken, I collected myself and adapted to this new place, thing, situation, reality.

Now this blog is about cycling, right?  Right.  But cycling is about a lot more. It’s about what it gives us, the long talks we share with friends on the road, and why we got on a bike in the first place.  I took to sports later in life with hesitation because I had no athletic base.  But I also took to sports with blind enthusiasm because I had no athletic base.  I started riding at the age of 30 not necessarily looking for something which would eventually take up so much time and space in my life, just something to do outside.  I was surprised at how quickly it hooked me, physically and mentally because I was such a late athletic bloomer, and because “become a cyclist” was not one of the dots on my linear path.  Throughout the past few years I have come to appreciate being a late bloomer.  Here’s why:

1. No bad memories.  I’ve known a lot of people who were successful athletes in high school and college and they often talk about [insert once enjoyable sporting activity] with a bitter taste: resentful about a bad coach, pushing through painful workouts, or doing sports for the sake of making someone else happy and proud.  Without these negative associations, I can push myself when I feel like it.  I can find the fun in challenging myself for no other reason but to do it.   

2. No good memories.  I’ve also known a lot of successful athletes who are just so jaded and bored with things because in high school or college they were X times faster, better, stronger.  Their glory days sit annoyingly on their shoulder, which makes being “ordinary” a horrific thing.  But hey, great news: when you were never great at anything in your childhood, your glory days are still ahead of you!

3. It’s never too late.  I recently watched Diana Nyad’s Ted talk.  She was the first person to swim from Cuba to Florida: 100 miles without stopping, without a shark cage, AND after 4 failed attempts.  She was 64 at the time.  She says: “When I turned 60 it wasn’t so much about the about the athletic accomplishment.  It’ wasn’t the ego of ‘I want to be the first’.  That’s always there and it’s undeniable.  It was deeper.  It was ‘how much life is there left’?  Let’s face it, we’re all on a one way street, aren’t we?  What are we going to do as we go forward to have no regrets looking back?....And when you reach for the horizon, as I’ve proven, you may not get there.  But what a tremendous build of character and spirit that you lay down; what a foundation you lay down in reaching for those horizons.”  Maybe you’re not contemplating defying death by shark attack.  Maybe going to yoga scares the life out of you and that’s perfectly fine.  But if you try that one thing, whatever it is, you’ll surprise yourself and realize that learning new things doesn’t stop at 30, that accomplishment is not defined by winning, and it’s worth it to try, no matter how late in life.       

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August: Meredith’s cross country journey.

Remember this story from June?  

This month’s blog post comes courtesy of Meredith Fitzpatrick, who recently completed a ride from San Francisco to Savannah for a worthy cause.  Here are three takeaways, and a whole lot of inspiration.

*************** About two weeks ago I completed a bike ride across the United States of America. This bike ride was something I had wanted to do for almost a decade and finally this year the opportunity presented itself. I found the Fuller Center Bike Adventure after doing a search online for supported charity rides across the country and I knew it was the right trip for me. The Fuller Center for Housing is a non-profit organization based in Georgia that works to eliminate poverty housing worldwide and the summer cross country bike ride is their biggest fundraiser. So, after reading about the trip it quickly became a no-brainer. I could finally explore the vastness and beauty of the United States of America from the seat of my bicycle and give back to others along the way. Sign me up!

A month and half after signing up, I met my fellow cyclists, 25 strangers of all ages from all parts of the country, at an Armenian church in San Francisco, CA. We got up early on June 3, dipped our back tires into the Pacific Ocean then crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge and went east. Over the course of the next two months, we traversed through 12 states and endured all types of terrain from the windy and wet Sierra Nevadas, the vast Bonneville Salt Flats of Utah and stunning heights of the Rockies to the desert of New Mexico, the rolling hills of Oklahoma and the hot, and yes very humid, but beautiful and rich in history, Southern states of Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia. We went along famous stretches like Route 66 and parts of the Continental Divide and truly pushed ourselves physically and mentally. In addition to cycling, we also learned about and participated in the Fuller Center’s mission of giving those in poverty housing situations a hand up by taking part in build days in Craig, Colorado, Shreveport and Natchitoches, Louisiana, and Americus and Albany, Georgia. We did everything from yardwork and painting the exterior of homes to fixing up broken down front steps and porches to de-shingling then re-shingling a home that had been damaged in a tornado. Hard work but work that felt good because you were pushing your body so much physically and most importantly it felt good because you were helping someone out who just needed a break.

After two months and twelve states of cycling and building we arrived in Savannah, Georgia and dipped our front tires into the Atlantic Ocean. We had done it. We had cycled over 3,500 miles and we did it together.

Some people have asked me why I did this adventure this way and what have I learned from it. Honestly, I think I’m still learning from it. It’s only been two weeks since I’ve returned home and I’ve already gotten completely consumed with a new job so I’m not even sure if I’ve had a chance to completely decompress yet. But I do know these three things…

1) I AM STRONG

I know that I wanted to do this because I wanted to challenge myself and I knew I had to do it this year. I wanted to explore the US from the seat of my bicycle, my favorite way to get lost and explore, and I wanted to push myself physically and mentally. And boy did I. Pushing myself physically has never been that hard for me as I’ve been very active my whole life and I’m pretty competitive so in that respect I really just wanted to see if my body could endure this challenge for this long and it did. I completed every mile but I learned my limits and the power of mother nature. In the first week, Tahoe unleashed every type of weather it had and threw it at us one lovely 73-mile day. Only a couple hours into the ride and my hands were frozen and I wasn’t able to brake anymore. I had to stop at the 33-mile mark because I was scared I wouldn’t be able to control my bike down huge descents with semi-trucks flying by and sleet blowing everywhere. So I stopped. I was disappointed that I couldn’t finish that day and I went into a very angry and selfish place. It was the first week of the trip and I was already going to miss some mileage. This was THE thing I was doing with my year and I was already missing mileage?! Oh hell no. Luckily for me the next day was a rest day in Tahoe and I opted to not rest and instead took a Lyft to the place I had stopped at the day before and complete the last 40 miles. The weather was only slightly better but I was able to keep my hands warmer longer and control my bike better. Funnily enough I did fall that day but it was at an intersection in Tahoe once I had done all of the climbs. I couldn’t unclip fast enough at a stop because I was so cold and, as if in slow motion, I fell over onto my side with my feet still clipped into my bike. Not a very exciting fall but a fall nonetheless and I was ok with it because I had caught back up to the trip mileage. I had done the ascents and descents I knew I could do and endured challenging weather along the way. My pride had been restored. Looking back this was probably the hardest couple days for me mentally more than physically. And I’m not entirely sure if I’ve learned from it yet but I did learn that I have grit and determination. I also learned that I have a sensitive ego and am very hard on myself, which I don’t think has changed.  There were many more physically challenging days ahead but having done that portion by myself on that rest day let me know that I could handle long mileage with intense weather changes. As the trip continued, I went on to endure some VERY HOT century days and a few more very uncomfortable wet and rainy days. So I think I went into this wanting to know how strong I was and I feel confident in saying that I now know I am pretty darn strong.

2) COMMUNITY IS STRENGTH

I had to give up a lot of personal space on this journey and a lot of creature comforts like my own bed and bathroom. My fellow cyclists and I shared the floors of churches, rec centers, high school gyms, a middle school gym and even a museum floor. We slept on sleeping pads or air mattresses and patiently waited our turn to clean off the day’s dirt, sweat and so many bugs, in the bathrooms of churches, fairgrounds, universities, gyms, RV parks and even truck stops. We also worked together on teams of 2-3 people to handle everyday chores like making dinner, setting up breakfast and trailer loading to laundry, snack bins and, my least favorite, site clean-up. We came together and did chores in often awkward living situations to keep our caravan of cyclists moving forward. They definitely weren’t always fun but they brought us closer together as a family. A family that helped each other through everything from chores to injuries, ailments and tough mileage. We were complete strangers at the beginning of it and had become an incredible community that looked out for each other during every single mile and we all made it safely. So in the end I really didn’t mind that I was sharing space with everyone. I got used to it and enjoyed how much of a family we’d become. I also learned how important community is for one’s mental health, how it pushes you out of your comfort zone, how it encourages you to do things you may have never done and how much you can accomplish when you all work together. We were a one of a kind community that will only ever exist in those couple months but we were a powerful one that changed each other’s lives and the lives of so many people we met along the way for the better.

3) AGE IS A STATE OF MIND

My fellow cyclists and incredible support team ranged in age from 18 to 76 years old. Our range of abilities on the ride was very spread out but it didn’t stop any of us. I have to admit coming into this adventure I had seen the ages of my new summer cycling team and it quickly became clear that I was in the minority. I was one of only three thirty-somethings and on top of it I was, I am, the oldest of the three of us. And the majority of the group were retired and in their 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. I was a bit self-conscious about being the only 35-year-old on the trip but barely a couple weeks in it truly didn’t matter. I loved hanging out with everyone - and I’m fairly confident they liked me too! ;-) My favorite roommates were two women in their early 70’s whose zest for life was just as energetic as mine. And despite being at the older end of the younger half of the group I could easily keep pace with twenty-somethings. I think most of the time we often forgot about our ages because we’d all been stripped of our typical age and status symbols from our everyday lives and it was only when we were out meeting locals in a town that we would come to the realization that it was very impressive that 60 and 70 somethings were doing the same century ride as a 20 and 30 something. We didn’t view each other that way, we viewed each other as teammates all working together towards the same goal and we all had the energy to do it no matter how many trips we’d made around the sun. We may not all have been at the same pace but we were all cyclists together and we were doing this thang!

And so in conclusion those three things are the meaning of life. You’re welcome. :-P No, but seriously, those three things are what made this such a necessary adventure for me. Yes, it was all things I may have already known on some level but I really truly experienced it for 2 months straight in a truly unique way. All of those things is what living is all about – pushing yourself outside your comfort zone no matter your age or station in life and growing from it. I personally am re-energized by it and I think I’m a stronger and more versatile person because of it but most importantly I know how lucky I am. And I know it was all made possible because of my love for riding a bike. I will never not love riding my bike because I now, more than ever, know that it can take me to amazing places– literally and figuratively.

If you want to see more accounts from my adventure please check me out on Instagram - @fitzpatme, #merebeartourdamereica. And if you’d like to donate to The Fuller Center for Housing please visit here.

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July: Riding the Alps.

Currently somewhere over the Atlantic ocean…  

I am returning from a trip of a lifetime: a week in the Alps tracing the history of many a Tour de France.  This has long been on my bucket list, so when the opportunity arose, I said, OUI.  I went with a group of twenty-some-odd triathletes as a ‘training camp’.  For me, this was a vacation.

We settled in to a chalet in Chamonix.  Our guide, Kevin of Vaudagne Velo, mapped out four rides for us, each featuring at least one challenging climb.  I don’t race, but if I had to classify myself as anything, I am a climber.  It just came naturally to me when I started.  Hills are where I am comfortable being uncomfortable.  I can’t say the same for myself on a flat road, where I often feel pressured to stay with a pack and I struggle with vacillating in and out of zones.  On hills, I am not afraid to be by myself for up to an hour.  I’m comfortable on my own, setting my own pace and rhythm, not pressured to keep up with anyone.

Day 1:

Le Bettex and Col de Jeux Passy - 59.8 miles, 7,999’

We began with a long descent to the valley floor, a preview of what we would have to climb up to get back home.

The first climb took us to the top of a ski resort called Le Bettex.  Kilometer markers that indicate the average gradient are helpful.  And the fact that Kilometers are shorter than miles helps too.  At 9.8 km long with an average of 8% this climb was described by locals as a nice mellow climb.  Meh, Category 1, NBD.  This gave me an idea of what to expect for later in the week. 

The second climb was a bit longer, and more challenging maybe for that reason.  For the first few km’s, I benefitted from fresh legs but the fatigue set it on the second half.  The skies had cleared up and the sun was on our backs.  At the top, parapunters launched themselves off a cliff.  So here we were, exhausted and spent and ready for what we consider a thrill: descending on two wheels while others chose a different way back to the valley floor.

A lovely winding descent and there we were: time to climb back up to the chalet.  The steady climb flattens out for just a moment until the pitch increases again.  Along the way we came upon an enthusiastic local rider on an old steel framed bike dressed in bib shorts and a t-shirt.  As we passed him, he hopped on our wheel and as we crested a hill he said “and now we go down!”

A massive headache crept upon me back at the chalet, and sore knees reminded me that the day was a bit bigger than my typical ride.  

Day 2:

Barrage d’Emmoson HC - 61.7 miles, 7,905’

A quick warmup up on the Col de Montets, where we made the day’s only taxing decision: one or two climbs.  I chose two.  A quick trip up to the Swiss border, another fun descent, a then quick right hand turn and up up up.

The Barrage d’Emmoson is as brutal as its name connotes.  No km markers, just staring at my Garmin waiting to the tiny blue dot creep towards the top.  Several hairpin turns reveal long stretches of road that just go up until the next sharp turn.  Coming around the last bend, we were greeted with a nice headwind which felt like a giant hand on my chest.  The descent was a reminder of how hard we had to work to get to the top: steep pitches that didn’t allow you to let it go.

Day 3

Col de la Colombiere HC - 84.8 miles, 9,318’

This was by far my favorite ride.  17km, a long winding way through hamlets, cows, churches and so much beauty.  Every stretch seemed to offer a panoramic view which made me almost forget about the work to get to the top.

Day 4

Col de Joux Plane - 81.9 miles 7779′

The hardest climb of the week.  12km of steep road, averaging about 8%.  My body had had it.  In some ways it had acclimated to the sudden increase in mileage and it I was beginning to recover faster, but it needed a rest (like, more than an 8 hour sleep).  I churned away in my easiest gear and my heart rate remained low and steady.  My heart literally would not allow my body to work any harder.  I stood up in the saddle and had zero acceleration.  Things hurt.  This was a struggle.  I just had to settle in and accept that it would be a slow effort, that my bike and my body were out of gears, and I had what I had to get me to the top.  Finally, after slipping in and out of the woods, the last kilometer was cruelly unmarked but the top was within sight.  More chairlifts greeted us at the chilly lunch spot and our guide recounted how a former client had broken down there one time, simply overcome by what he had done: that he had ridden the Alps.  I’ll admit, it seemed silly at the time, but that feeling came to me the next day when I was packing to go home.  I was exhausted, but overcome with a wave of emotion that it was over: good and bad feelings.  I had ridden the Alps, which was something I had been wanting to do for years.  I was so happy about that, but sad that it was over, and I was drained.  

So, sort of as an afterthought here are three things on cycling trips for July:

1. Embrace the unknown.  We all knew the routes ahead of time and I took a brief glance at the profiles.  I knew they’d be hard but that’s all I knew.  Not knowing where you are, where the top is--it encourages me to find a pace that’s steady.  I just settle in and maintain.  It’s a vacation after all, where the objective is to get back to the chalet unscathed, have a couple glasses of wine, good food, and do the same thing day after day.

2. But don’t go it alone.  I can’t imagine being hot on a climb and wishing I had stopped for water, or being starving and wondering where the food is.  I was glad to have SAG support and a guide who really knew the roads: not just the roads, but the drivers, traffic patterns, etc.  I was also glad to be with 20-something other riders.  Even though we quickly spread out at the beginning of each ride, and I often found myself alone or in a small group, it was comforting to know that everyone was suffering together.  It was also great to know that we would have a collection of stories about these rides to tell when we got home.    

3. Soak it all in.  Take in not just the moments on the bike, but all of the little things -- interactions, people, moments, nuances of temporarily immersing yourself in another country and culture.  Don’t get so lost on Strava segments and zones and watts that you miss the bigger picture.  It’s not just about riding a bike, it’s about seeing the world from your bike.  

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June: Traveling with your bike.

Coming at you from 35,021 feet above Steamboat Springs, Colorado.  Where to, you ask?  You’ll just have to stay tuned!

But in the meantime, here are three things for June: how to prep for international travel with your bike.

1. The bike:  Put it in a box.  But not just any box.  You’ll want a hard case made for transporting bikes.  Don’t have a case and don’t want to buy one?  Look into renting one.  Not comfortable taking your bike apart and packing it up?  Ask your local bike shop.  Most will do this for you.  

2. Insurance:  Consider your options.  Not all travel insurance is created equal.  Some might not even cover loss or injury resulting from ‘risky’ activities like cycling.  World Nomads is tailored for travelers with a sense of adventure.  Also look into your credit card and renters’ insurance for coverage on your bike.  If you really want to get specific, bike insurance does exist through Velosurance.   As always, read the fine print! 

3. Nutrition: I’m all for adventure.  But the last thing you want is to be uncomfortable on your bike because of something you ate during your ride, or to be struggling up a climb and take a bite into something not so tasty.  And if you’re gluten free or anything-else-free, your options abroad might be limited. Single servings of Skratch Labs Hydration and Hammer Recoverite are great and easy to pack, as are gels (hint: put them in your water bottles).

Happy summer and happy travels!

xo Alexis

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May: Tips for group rides.

For me, riding on my own has its virtues: I don’t have trouble motivating myself to ride, I don’t like being pushed past a certain limit, and I often feel safer alone than in a pack of riders who might have a different interpretation of things like red lights.  But every once in a while, I get an invite and I say yes.  Riding with others, I’m more apt to push myself, and that’s good for me (even if I don’t like it).  It can be more fun: the camaraderie, the ability to go faster by working together, and yes, the challenge to keep up.  The past two weekends, I have been invited on group rides, and found myself being the weakest link on one ride, and one of the stronger links on another.  These rides got me thinking about the key factors to consider when you’re in a group, determined by where in that group you find yourself.  

1. At the front.  You’re the leader, the pacesetter.  You’re at the front because you’re capable.  If you’re new to a group, this is not where you should be unless you are certain that you belong there.  But remember, it’s not just about you.  You’re also the hazard spotter.  Give signals instead of just drifting and dodging them.

2. In the middle.  Sit in, keep up, but keep your distance.  That is, stay close to the rider ahead of you but don’t overlap your wheel with hers.  If she suddenly has to veer slightly left or right, your wheels touch and you both go down.

3. On the back.  Hang on.  Follow the leaders--but not only in terms of pace.  Drink when the others drink, eat when they eat.  And what you chose to eat is key: pack gels.  Easy to open and take down quickly, gels are key to being able to get some calories and keep moving with the pack.  

Happy summer, stay safe, and have fun!

xo Alexis

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April: Later, excuses.

Spring is here.  You’re still thinking that this is the year to get out on the open road but you haven’t made the leap?  I know, I found myself in the same predicament seven years ago.  No longer able to run, and sick of spin classes, I was dying to get outdoors, but there were so many things discouraging me from buying a bike and becoming a “cyclist”.  Of course the lack of good looking cycling apparel was at the top of that list.  But my urge to get outdoors was louder and greater than all of those nagging voices and “whatifs”.  Maybe some of these resonate with you, and here’s how you can shrug off those negative nagging voices.

1. How on earth can I get a bike up a hill?  The answer: Build strength indoors.  Learn how to climb a hill on a stationary bike.  You’ll need to know how it should feel to spin at low cadence with heavy resistance.  Get a handle of the mechanics, engaging the pedal with your hamstrings as well as your quads.  A year of spin classes with good instruction gave me the physical strength and confidence to do just that.

2. Clipping into my bike is so scary!  The answer: It is.  Know your feet.  I mean, know which foot is your clip out foot.  When you buy your bike, the shop should set you up on a trainer to fit you to your new ride (more on that with #3). Without the anxiety of falling, you will be able to get a sense of which leg you feel more comfortable standing on while that foot is clipped in.  Stand up out of the saddle, with your “good” foot at 6 o’clock, unclip your high foot, and reach it to the floor as if you are coming to a stop.  Then try doing the same thing coasting in a safe place (not the road).  You’ll get it in no time.  

3. I have a bad [insert body part] and I don’t want to get hurt.  The answer: Make sure your bike FITS.  And that probably means getting a second, more in-depth opinion.  Any repetitive motion, even if done with proper mechanics can cause problems in the long term.  Pedro Dungo of Fitted by Pedro helps cyclists achieve comfort and efficiency on their bikes: “Achilles tendonitis, patellar tendonitis, lower back pain, neck pain and saddle sores are considered overuse injuries. Taking care to ensure a proper bike fit can help in preventing all of these injuries.”  Don’t assume that just because a bike is your “size” that it fits you.

Now go buy the darn bike.  No more excuses.

xo Alexis

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This is our backyard.

The Marin Headlands loop is one of our favorite local rides, so we popped a GoPro on the handlebars to show you around.  It’s a place where I find peace, beauty, inspiration and challenge just by being there, slowly repeatedly clawing my way up hills, and winding down descents.  Every time I ride up these hills, I have a “pinch-me-am-I-dreaming” moment--even on the foggiest, soggiest summer days (yes, that is what summer in San Francisco is like).  The day I stop having that feeling is the day I need to pack up and move, so that I never forget how lucky we are to have this magical place in our backyard.  

xo Alexis

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March: The case for technical cycling apparel.

The cherry blossoms are blooming and the pollen is flying.  The days are getting longer and we’re starting to emerge from winter.  Spring is here and you’re thinking this is *the* summer to get a road bike, or to dust off the one you got last year and up your mileage.  Maybe you have a few things holding you back.  Maybe one of those things is the clothes.  Maybe you’ve been thinking, “Why are they so ugly?  What’s with all the logos?  Why can’t I just wear my workout clothes on my bike?”

We present three things for March: the case for technical cycling apparel.

1. The fabric: It’s different.  I know, you love your favorite yoga pants, but if you wear them on a two-hour bike ride, you’ll come to loathe them.  Content is key and cotton is your new enemy because it absorbs moisture.  The constant movement of your legs inevitably produces friction.  Moisture + skin + friction is a recipe for disaster also known as chafing.  Instead, you want to look for blends made of nylon (or polyester) and spandex.  These lightweight synthetic fibers wick moisture away from your skin.  Constant motion also means that you will also want your shorts or leggings to be made with textiles resistant to pilling.  The weight of the fabric is also key.  Too heavy and you’ll be too hot.  Too light and you’ll be revealing more about yourself than you’d like.  You want just enough spandex fibers to provide a healthy dose of compression to support your muscles. 

2. The technical features.  “Butt pads?”  Yes, you do need these, also known as a chamois.  If you’re spending more than an hour on your bike, your sits bones will need some love and protection.  Pockets in back?  Yes, you need these too.  No backpack or fanny pack, or anything-else pack on these rides.  Pockets on the back of your jersey are the perfect, quickly accessible place for you to carry things, like keys, ID, nutrition, and tools to change a flat.  Seams in the right (not wrong) places?  Yes, these details matter.  An inseam seam is your worst nightmare (remember that whole nasty convo we had about chafing a second ago?).  Just don’t.

3. Climate change.  Chances are that you’ll experience this--both from the weather changing and from your efforts.  Step outside on a chilly morning and you might be tempted to throw on a fleece.  But within a matter of minutes you’ll work up a sweat and for the first time ever, be thinking about throwing your Patagonia in the trash.  Sun, wind, and sweat will ebb and flow through the duration of your ride.  You’ll want to dress in a way that you can peel off layers as you get warmer.  A long sleeved top is a sentence that you might not want to endure.  Instead, opt for a short sleeved jersey and arm warmers.  Layer a vest on top of that and you’re set.    

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Who is Lexi Miller?

Lexi Miller isn’t a person.  Lexi Miller is a part of you.  You are a part of Lexi Miller.  

Lexi Miller, the persona and the body of work, is the synthesis of daydreams stoked by thousands of pedal strokes along beautiful roads from the California coast to the Volcanoes of Chile.  Lexi Miller came to life when an interior designer fell in love with cycling: the new found freedom, the satisfaction of climbing hills, the awe inspired by gorgeous vistas, and the thrill of whipping descents.  But every ride was slightly soured by the disappointment of riding in clothes that were ...”eh”.  They didn’t fit quite right, the textiles felt cheap and scratchy, and too many jerseys were stamped with garish logos, girly flowers, and amorphous swirly designs meant to designate...what, exactly?  Certain that these feelings were not unique to her experience and unwilling to accept the market’s offerings as the best possible option, frustration led her to become an apparel designer.  

Lexi Miller represents that get-it-done part of ourselves, and the refusal to accept a reality that falls short of what we know is possible.  She represents that irreverent element of ourselves that goes against the grain, makes us proud, channels strength, and takes chances that add color to our lives.

Lexi Miller is athletic, sophisticated, discerning about design and fashion, and she likes to ride a bike.  She appreciates clothes that fit and flatter her body without sacrificing function.  Perhaps she is emerging from spin classes to the great open road.  Or maybe she rides 20 miles to work every morning and 100 miles every Saturday.  She does not want to be a billboard for a corporation.  She speaks for herself.  She does not wear pink flowers and swirly shapes on or off the bike.  She is feminine, not “girly”.  She likes to challenge herself, and she wants to look good and feel good while doing it.  She doesn’t mind working up a heard earned sweat or getting dirty, but she is equally fond of any occasion that necessitates a pair of heels, some makeup and a cute dress.

We hope that the story of Lexi Miller resonates with that little fire inside of you, or maybe helps you to find it.  

xo

Alexis

[leximillerapparel]

Fast legs.  Slow fashion.

Fast legs, slow fashion.

In a world where automation and algorithms promise to find us everything from a cab to a soulmate, slowing down is antithetical to progress.  We do like to ride fast but when it comes to design and production, we won’t succumb to the pressure to speed up.

Much like the Slow Food movement came into being as a backlash against the unsustainable fast food industry, the Slow Fashion movement is a response to fast fashion: the proliferation of brands that are able to churn out incredibly relevant and incredibly cheap clothes at such a fast pace.  Slow fashion asks the hard question: what is the true cost of your constantly revolving wardrobe?  If it's too good to be true, it probably is.  

A search for "cycling shorts" is met with gloriously cheap and generic looking selections.  Google can find you a cycling jersey with any logo from your favorite beer to your alma mater.  

But where is the quality?  When it comes to design, the cycling industry "reinvents" the jersey with sublimation printing, but not a whole lot of tailoring, or detailed construction.  No matter what the words or logos are stamped onto your back, they don't make you go faster.  They don't make your kit fit better.  Words don't make the fabric wick sweat any more effectively.  

And how do they manage to make all of this for so little?  Countless tales of child labor law violations and dangerous working conditions illuminate the way to low price points.

Lexi Miller came about we wanted better clothes on the bike: better fitting, better looking, better performing, better lasting.  And when we talk about sustainability, It's not just about the quality and the ethics behind production.  We also believe in creating timeless yet relevant classic designs that will survive, impervious to the whims of fashion, season after season.

We'll always need the functional aspects of a cycling kit, and there will always be improvements that can be made in the tailoring, and we’ll always seek out innovation in textiles and trims.  But cycling apparel is not as subject to the tumultuous whims of fashion as mainstream apparel is.  Animal prints come and go, and while lace is in this year, it will fade out and be back in a while.  The pencil skirt will always be around, but the peplum top is sooo 2013. Heels will continue to be a thing, but platform shoes and the pointy toed kitten heel will take turns eclipsing one another.  

Black spandex, shorts and jerseys will always be our staples.  We’ll always need pockets in our jerseys, and a chamois in our shorts.  We work with these constants and integrate some fresh ideas without veering from the bones.  It's not about creating what's hot right now, but finding that balance between relevance and timelessness.  We are focused on creating updated classic silhouettes, but we are also open to how to make it better with the slightest adjustments.   We like to say we're not reinventing the wheel--just tweaking it, making it look better, roll a little smoother.

In my early cycling days, I added up the cost of the "eh" jerseys and the "ok" shorts.  For what I had spent on my search for great cycling clothes, I wished that I had had 2 really great jerseys and shorts that I would be able to wash repeatedly and use for at least a season.  I wished that I had one brand to turn to that produced the quality garments that I needed, and actually wanted to wear.  

When Lexi Miller was just a fledgling vision, plenty of people in the industry had a quick fix for us.  From production houses who would handle the entire process, to fabric vendors who pushed the all too familiar pique scratchy polyester for sublimation printing, since, you know, that's what cycling jerseys are: white polyester stamped with splashy logos and garish patterns.   Um, no thanks.  No short cuts here. We chose to be involved in every stage of the process.  We chose to do the difficult things, because we believed they were right, even if that meant that they were more expensive.  We developed relationships with all of our vendors from our patternmaker to the person stamping the logo on our back pockets.  We went to the best mills for our textiles.  We sought the experts in manufacturing and we kept it local, right in the San Francisco Bay Area.  We sewed, we tested, washed, we repeated.  Again and again.

We chose to slow down long enough to examine the status quo and ask questions.  What about a jersey that doesn’t have a zipper?  How about a great pair of shorts that aren’t bibs?  What about sewing the contrasting elements and details into a jersey instead of stamping them on?

The result is a collection of modern, curated, quality women’s cycling apparel: a brand that doesn’t put women as an afterthought, an asterisk, or a smaller, pinker version of men.  Functional cycling apparel that is made intentionally, by women for women.  

xo Alexis

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February: Fear.

Fear.  We all know it.  It’s been useful to our evolution and essential to our survival.  It protects us from bad decisions.  But it can also hamper our progress, most often when it is not based on reality, but the stories that we tell ourselves.  Anyone who has ever ridden a road bike knows fear.  For this month’s blog post we called upon our badass friend Brooke Wells, an accomplished runner turned triathlete who has confronted a bout of fear or two.

xo alexis

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I have two tiny scars in the corners of my eyes from falling off my bike when I was six years old.

Wind in my pigtails, I was bombing down the driveway of my childhood home, hit a patch of loose gravel and flew over the handle bars of my Costco purchased Huffy and went face first in to the pavement. I was bruised and bloody, and clearly scared, but the fear of missing out on neighborhood bike rides had me back on that oversized saddle the next day.  

Flash forward 20 some-odd years. After far too many seasons of consistent injury as a runner, I picked up cycling again thanks to the encouragement or friends like Lexi Miller. This go round, I harbored a different fear. I’d put so much pressure on myself to perform as a sub-elite runner, I was scared I’d be constantly comparing my efforts to those of my extremely talented Strava KOM comrades. Would they have to wait for me on every ride? Would I get dropped and spend hours on end alone? Am I wearing the right gear? What’s a power meter?

The fear of the unknown consumed me in those first few months, but I made a conscious effort to ride within myself, not get over my head in distance or intensity and become “one” with my bike. That precious Ridley came to feel like part of my limbs. I gained a confidence that made every ride a three-hour escape of any of the fears and anxieties of the day to day.

Then, New Year’s Eve, on a day that was far too cold and wet to be on the mountain, I was bombing down the hills of Marin in my new, adult home, and my wheels went out from underneath me. I tucked and slid as I scraped the skin of my right side along the pavement. I was lucky enough to walk away with aggressive road rash and a separated shoulder, and, as I’m told the badge that now, I was officially a “cyclist”. However, I also left that ride with a somewhat crippling fear to get back on my bike.

After years of being chronically injured, risking additional pain and management of that pain was just something that I was not interested in. I’d bought a new Triathlon bike and spent the next two months sitting on a trainer indoors. I went to a training weekend up north and watched my friends conquer the wind and cold outside and stayed inside sweating on a computrainer in front of what felt like an endless college basketball game. This was safe, but this wasn’t me. This wasn’t the young, brave six-year-old that tackled fear head on to make sure there was no fun lost. This wasn’t the rational, dedicated woman who built up a base of hard earned miles and comfort on her bike that she lived for those hours outside. In those sweaty minutes on the trainer, I realized that I am not my best-self when I am backing down from fear.

I am in my element when I’m in nature, I’m with friends, challenging myself and breaking down barriers.

So, yesterday, I took that shiny new triathlon bike outside. I rode so cautiously the first few miles I would have been passed three times over by my six-year-old self, but by the end of the day, I had an impenetrable smile on my face, and the frightened feeling in the pit of my stomach was gone.

Never let fear take you away from when you are your best self. Take small steps if you need to, but never sacrifice the opportunity to feel whole.

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January: Bike fit.

If you find yourself like most of the country in a rain-soaked or frozen state, you might have to take your training indoors this month.

Hopefully you’re fortunate enough to live near a great cycling studio where you can train with power.  I have been teaching spin classes at the Bay Club in San Francisco for two years.  I started taking classes there in 2009 when I was told to stop running.  Saddened by being trapped indoors, I fortunately had a couple of great teachers who gave me the fitness and the confidence to make the leap from a stationary bike to a real one.  It changed my life.  Now that I am leading my own classes, I only hope that I can encourage another person to discover the joys of riding a ‘real’ bike.

A huge part of getting the most out of any ride (indoors or out) is efficiency.  Without proper technique, form, and FIT, efficiency is compromised.  So we called upon our local expert, Pedro Dungo, bike fitter extraordinaire to walk us through setting up a spin bike.  He gave us three great points to remember when setting up your bike:

1. Saddle height: I often see clients sitting too low.  Here’s how to determine the correct height: place your pedals at 12 and 6.  Back pedal just slightly so that your bottom foot reaches 5:30.  Unclip and place your heel on the clip.  Your leg should be fully extended (no bend in the knee) and the hips should be balanced.

2. Saddle fore/aft position: Clip in and place your pedals at 3 and 9 o’clock.  On your front leg, locate the little notch just beneath your patella (knee cap).  It should fall directly over the spindle that attaches the pedal to the crank.  Have your neighbor double check this one for you.

3. Handlebar fore/aft position: I often see clients riding with their handlebars too close.  This takes the work out of the core (meaning back extensors as well as abdominals), places more pressure in the shoulders and neck, and places them into too much lumbar flexion (the pelvis is sort of tucked under, instead of slightly rotated forward).  Here’s the rule of thumb: the distance between the tip of the saddle and the handlebars should be equal to the length of your arm from your elbow to your fingertips.  I tell most new clients to start with their handlebars at the same height as their saddle, or slightly higher.  I encourage experienced riders to ride with a differential that is similar to their road bike.

Happy winter!

xo alexis

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December: Transformation.

As we count down the dwindling days of 2016, a lot of us think about the coming of a new year as a time to set new goals, and find new opportunities to change and transform.  We invited Katie Feltman to tell her story about her own transformation.  xo Alexis

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Transformation. Change. It’s the time of the year when these topics inevitably pop up in our minds and surround us in conversations, on social media – everywhere we turn. My story of transformation didn’t start when one year ended and a new one began. If I’m being truthful, I loathe the concept of a New Year’s Resolution.

What is this magical transformation I speak of?

The before: At age 36 and after a particularly demoralizing trip to the doctor I realized I was dealing with all manner of emotional, mental and physical sickness. That I weighed close to 300 pounds I would come to eventually realize was a symptom not a cause. The gory details? Prediabetes. Thyroid disease totally uncontrolled. Hypertension. Heart arrhythmias. I was living life on mute and in a fog. I can with certainty pinpoint that day as the day when I finally decided to do something.

The after: Some 6 years later, I’m physically lighter by about 130 physical pounds (that’s like a whole person!) and am emotionally lighter by an unquantifiable number of pounds. I’m still me - but a more settled, happier me.  A person who lives life with gusto. A better friend, sister, daughter, employee, citizen of the world. I could name hundreds of things that are different for me now. For the readers of this blog, I’ll just note how much I missed biking long distances when I simply couldn’t.  Now I spend as much time and as many miles as I can cycling.  

Before I get to the three things, a word of caution.  Don’t romanticize weight loss. It’s not a panacea to all your emotional, professional, physical, relationship and whatever other woes you have.  That kind of thinking is a dangerous -  so dump it now.  We’ve all been there -  imagining if I could only change this I would be so much happier. On the surface when you imagine your life x number of pounds lighter you might think it’s the express line to happiness - the solution to all your problems.  It’s not. It’s so not. You’ve first got to do the work on the inside to achieve that level of nirvana

Still with me? If so I am happy to report I am FINALLY getting to the three things  

1. So yeah….about those New Year’s Resolutions or that BIG decision to make a HUGE change overnight.  Doesn’t work. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know but try and listen this time. Internalize it. Believe it. Accept it. Accept that change won’t happen overnight. Waiting until the beginning of the year after engaging in the party/food/wine/gluttony marathon that starts around Halloween and rages on until we all wake up on January 1st filled with a truck load of self-loathing we can’t unload seems to be the way we all decide to go about conducting ourselves year after year. The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. This time, do something different. The biggest change and realization was grasping I had to make small changes in my daily habits and then doing them. Change is something you have to chip away at every. Single. Day. Know there will be setbacks, and things won’t happen overnight. And that’s why I don’t set New Year’s resolutions. Sure, I set short- and long-term goals (some are totally doable - and some are so aspirational it seems silly to even write it down or say it out load but you need those big goals) but I don’t set one giant resolution on January 1. Think about it like this: Every day is a resolution. The best thing about thinking like this? You get a fresh start every day. It’s manageable this way.

2. Self-care matters. Say it. Think it. PRACTICE IT. Yes I am shouting on that last one. Find ways to engage in self-care. Do it every day. That’s going to look different for everyone so spend some time figuring out what this looks like for you and get on it. Self-care should be viewed like change – it doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Find the small things you can to do daily to take care of yourself.  2 easy places to start are move more, and get more sleep.

3. Why does self-care matter so much? Because self-love. Acceptance. No more self-loathing. You won’t take care of yourself if you can’t find a way to love yourself. If you take one thing away from my words today make it this. You won’t love yourself if you don’t make the time to take care of yourself and if you spend time hating yourself and your body, you’ll lack the will and motivation to do the work needed to care for your body and mind. We have one body. Take care of it. This one is critical. Essential. I hated my body.  I felt betrayed by it. The self-loathing I felt had a vice grip on me. Once I learned to take care of myself and accept myself daily in where I was on my journey, and let go of my negative feelings about my body that is when the change really started to happen.  

Frustrated I’ve not provide some magic list of specifics for how to transform? Is this a bait and switch? No. I’ve already talked too much and the specifics are missing on purpose. Everyone’s journey will look different – it has to. If you want to know more about mine, I’m using Insta to document how I practice self-love and self-care - when I’m not posting photos of my dogs or my cycling adventures  Find me on Instagram.com/wanderingbella

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November: Gratitude.

As we close out November and get back into the swing of things after Thanksgiving, it seems only fitting that this month’s three things touch upon gratitude.  

In recent years, sports have given me a lot for which to be grateful.  Here are three:

1. [Ladies’] Locker room talk.  I started swimming a year ago after a very long hiatus from any kind of organized swimming (as in like, 30 years).  Before swim, the early bird crowd and I pass in the locker room, where we exchange our bleary eyed, tired hellos and brief life updates.  These ladies are full of wisdom that only decades of living can endow.  Post swim, my group, ranging from a new mom and a newlywed to single 30 and 40-somethings share our own banter and wish each other well as we head off to our respective jobs.  It’s in these passing moments when we reveal (no pun intended) little pieces of ourselves, that we realize how much we all have in common as women, how much we can learn from one another, and how much we really need one another.  

2. Being an amateur.  Not excelling at sports as a kid (and yes, I’m the first one to say my lack of trying is to 100% to blame for that) is not something that I regret.  Traditional team sports were never something I felt like I had to do to get in to college, or to please my parents.  I didn’t burn out.  I didn’t have a coach who made me hate running.  I didn’t get hazed by older teammates.  As adults I think we’d all agree that if we peaked in high school, that’s a shame.  As a non-competitive amateur, I do what I do because Iove to do it, and I am so grateful for that.          

3. Endurance.  Despite having zero desire to compete, sometimes my schedule would resemble that of someone who is training for something.  Why bother waking up at 5 am every weekday to workout?  As one of my favorite cycling instructors and personal trainers says, “Life is the ultimate endurance sport” (Follow her on Instagram--she’s a total badass @fitnesslizbradley).  When you are climbing a mountain, or swimming thousands of yards, one thing is essential: learning how to use your breath to keep your brain from losing its *%#@ while you stress your body out.  Endurance isn’t just about getting from point A to point B, but it’s about the small victories and the many challenging moments which stand in your way and spoon feed you humility.  It’s about being comfortable in the midst of discomfort, because you don’t have a choice.  It’s about breaking the journey up into small, manageable milestones.  Learn to do this while doing something you enjoy, and the skill set will serve you well for enduring the less pleasant aspects of life.      

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October: Three things you can do to take control over your own health.

This month’s three things, courtesy of Dena Smith, author of Leo with Cancer

As a breast cancer survivor and beauty blogger, I often get asked a lot of questions about how I knew that I was sick. The answer to that is complicated, but not intimidating. There are really three key things that I think everyone should do - regardless of gender, risk for cancer or age - to feel in control of their own bodies and well being.

1) Know your own body well enough to know when something changes.

Most people see a doctor maybe once every two years. You see and inhabit your body everyday. Whether it’s a twinge in your back, or a mole changing shape, or a lump in your breast, you can’t rely on anybody else to notice these things. You are in control of QA.

It starts with paying attention to your body when it's feeling good. That may be the hardest part. Often times we only notice when the car isn't running right, not how the car feels when it's operating at peak performance. Yes, you are the car.

It can be really hard to diagnose an issue, and figure out the best way to treat it, if you don't know what it's supposed to feel like in the first place. All it takes is a little inward attention.

2) If you find something, say something.

Trust me, I know going to the doctor sucks. It’s scary. What if it’s so much worse? But also, what if it’s better? What if it’s easily fixable? What if by addressing the issue now you make it so that it’s about a million times easier to fix than if you keep trucking along acting like everything is fine?

9 times out of 10 it will be the latter. And if it's that first scary one you're still better off going sooner than later.

If you dread going to the doctor that much, find another doctor. Find someone you trust. Find someone who will listen to you, because you are the expert.

3) Be nice to yourself.

If you have a cold, rest. If your (fill in the blank) hurts skip that workout. If you’re tired, sleep. Nothing good ever comes from being unkind to your body. It does a lot of work for you, it deserves to be treated well.