A significant climb

I feel as though lately I've come across a disproportionate number of articles telling me that, despite all of the opportunities and choices before us, women in our society are still having a tough time. An OpEd piece in this weekend's NYTimes summarized a few (rather depressing) studies suggesting that, while men get happier with age, women actually become unhappier. Clearly this piece resonated with a lot of readers, because it wound up as the most emailed story on the NYTimes website within 48 hours. Another piece in this morning's Globe and Mail, which I read over my morning cup of coffee, reminded me that women still face systemic discrimination in the workplace, and many women who climb the corporate ladder will eventually opt to get off it altogether. I barely had time to digest the possible reasons for or implications of this before an email arrived in my inbox, alerting me that one successful woman whom I know is, indeed, exercising that option. Is it really true, as these newspaper articles would have us believe, that "the further up a woman climbs, the lonelier she's going to be"?

I'm no sociologist or other expert on these matters, and I'm not in any position to opine on whether these statistics reveal a depressing truth about whether today's woman can really "have it all." I'm not even sure that I, personally, have sufficient life experiences to definitively say whether I currently, or will eventually, count myself among the growing cohort of unhappy and disillusioned women. I did, however, have an interesting experience this morning that, even independently of these news pieces, got me thinking about the differences between the sexes, and how I react to them.

Zdenek and I got one loop in together this morning before he was forced to head home with a punctured tire. We'd only been out for 20 minutes, and since it seemed a waste to get out of bed that early for such a short workout, I stayed in the Park to do another loop or two on my own. I wasn't feeling particularly energetic this morning; indeed, on the first loop, Zdenek and I agreed to just take it easy today. But once I was on my own, my mindset shifted slightly. I realized, as I often do, that I was one of the few women cyclists in the Park (on this weekend's ride to and from Piermont, Caitlin and I saw only one other woman on the whole trip). Obviously there are plenty of recreational and professional women cyclists out there, but I think it's fair to say that they are in the minority. I am not sure why cycling is more attractive or accessible to men. I have a few pet theories, but will leave those for another post.

But I digress. This morning, a few minutes into my first solo loop, I had the urge to push the pace on my own. It was partly a test of my abilities -- physical and mental -- without Zdenek by my side or leading the way. Once I began going hard, though, it seemed like a failure to allow my speed to drop, and so I forced myself to keep at it. Just before the north end of the Park, a group of 10 or 12 men in matching team jerseys flew past me, and about a half-mile later, I caught up to them near the bottom of Harlem Hill. I stuck to my pace, thinking I might get an assisted ride up the hill by staying behind them. Within seconds, though, I had to go around them, lest I slow my pace. Before I knew it, I was charging up the hill, putting more sweat and pain into the ascent than I have ever done, with or without Zdenek. My legs were burning, my breathing heavy. I focused on my cadence. I forced myself to maintain my speed.

Do not let them see you slow down. Keep going. You passed them; do not let them pass you. Do not be "just a girl."

I can say with pride that I emerged victorious on that climb. I made it up in record time with maximum effort, and the work was mine and mine alone. But as I crested the top, I realized that passing a group of men had brought out a competitive, yet defensive, side of me. I can't say for certain, but if it had been a team of women cyclists, I think I would have been more content to stay near the back. If Zdenek had been with me at all, I would have had a good excuse to ignore the other riders -- as I often do -- because I would have had a partner to focus on.

But when I realized that it was just me versus the boys, and that I had even a small chance of passing -- and beating -- them, I was forced to seize it. While I know that they probably weren't trying very hard and that they could have easily put the hammer down if they so desired, the fact is, they didn't. I did. And once I made my move, I wasn't going to let them pass me, because that would make me "just a girl." There may be some truth to the notion that the further up a woman goes, the lonelier she's going to be. But sometimes, the climb is worth it.