Tag: Frenetic Fitness

Bikes, Babes and Bloomers {Women’s History}

Bikes, Babes and Bloomers {Women’s History}
Written by Lisa Mullis of Frenetic Fitness

In celebration of Women’s History Month let’s talk about clothes. We love them. We wear them. We use them to impress and to be comfortable. Some of us listened to our mothers complain about garters and girdles. Many of our daughters will remember us complaining of the days of pantyhose being all but required for the office or for church. But I have to wonder, as I slip into my spandex/lycra bike shorts and lightweight nylon jersey, what would it have been like to try to live my lifestyle of athletic outdoorswoman while wearing a rib crushing corset and a 15 pound multi-layer of crinoline and skirt?

As the 19th century came to a close, there were great improvements to an invention that was changing the way people traveled: enter the bicycle. Cycling in Europe was a rapidly emerging sport in the 1860’s and 70’s. In 1877 a man named Albert Pope imported a contraption called the Penny Farthing or the Ordinary bicycle from Britain to America.

His company, Pope Manufacturing, would begin producing the Columbia bicycles. In that same year, the fashionable woman might have been outfitted in an underskirt to support a bustle with layers of ruffles and frills, a tight fitting corset, and a long waisted tight fitting bodice with long sleeves and during the day, a high neck. I can’t imagine how women were supposed to travel by bicycle wearing all that but many of them did; and many were injured by skirts caught in wheels or chains. I’m betting a lot of skirts were ruined too. Tired of sweating under layers of cumbersome clothes and worried about getting thrown to the ground, or tearing a skirt, the need for reasonable cycling clothes spawned a new fashion trend of split skirts or shorter skirts with a type of trouser underneath.

Amelia Jenks Bloomer was the editor of The Lily, a women’s temperance magazine. She was one of the best known proponents of the movement that would spawn the Rational Dress Society. Aiming to rid women of the binding and physical hindrance of corsets and heavy layered skirts, Mrs. Bloomer promoted the wearing of Turkish Trousers. These trousers, which became known as “bloomers” due to her patronage, would become the basis for women’s cycling suits. Amelia passed away in 1894, just as female cyclists were gaining acceptance and divided skirts and bloomers were adopted as cycling attire. She herself gave up wearing the trousers most likely due to societal backlash. Men thought that allowing women to wear the bifurcated raiment then exclusively available to men, would lead to women expecting to compete for a man’s place in society. Even many women felt that the shorter skirts and knickerbocker style cycling suits were immodest and lessened the gracefulness that is the hallmark of the female sex.

But all hail the freedom that comes from riding a bike. As women took to the cycling club tracks, the parks, and the streets to ride their bikes they enjoyed a huge increase in freedom of movement. Young women could cycle away from the prying eyes of parents and wives were not reliant on husbands for transportation. Bikes not only gave them independence but also gave them the freedom of exercise because they had ditched those binding corsets, hitched up their overskirts and put on their bloomers. Elizabeth Cady Stanton was already in her 80s during the Golden Age of Bicycling but she had this to say about the benefits, “The bicycle will inspire women with more courage, self-respect and self-reliance and make the next generation more vigorous of mind and of body; for feeble mothers do not produce great statesmen, scientists, and scholars.” This unburdening of those weighty garments let women exercise out in the fresh air, possibly for the first time since they were young children at play around their mother’s heavy skirts and before conforming to the feminine ideal of the day.

And knowing all of this, I’ve attempted riding my bike wearing a long skirt as part of the first of what I hope is an annual event for Little Rock, the Tweed Ride.

Photo used with permission.

 

Though my skirt was shorter and lighter than what women would have been wearing at the turn of the century, it still made riding more of a chore than wearing shorts or tights. Yet I’ve rarely had as much fun on my bike, especially with the knowledge that I didn’t ever have to wear that get up again if I didn’t want to. Instead I’ll stick to my short, tennis dress length bike skirt. You read me right; I own a spandex bike skirt. I wore it to the opening of the Clinton Library Bridge in Little Rock because I felt I should dress up for such an event.

As we sit around the house wearing yoga pants, or pull on shorts to head out for a run or to play with our kids at the park, as we put on our stretchy bike shorts with padded chamois, let’s give thanks to those women who were the bra burners of their day. And ride off into the sunset on our two wheeled steeds.

“[T]he bicycle will accomplish more for women’s sensible dress than all the reform movements that have ever been waged.” ~Author Unknown, from Demerarest’s Family Magazine, 1895

For all my homeschooling friends: I found this lovely book in the juvenile section of my library Wheels of Change: How Women Rode the Bicycle to Freedom by Sue Macy, check it out.

About Lisa: I’m a Wife and Mom. I’m a microbiologist. I’m a mountain biker, hiker, backpacker, sometime runner, and workout enthusiast all while being addicted to good food. I write about it at http://freneticfitness.wordpress.com. I also write for ArkansasOutside about other people who love to play outside too. I’m fueled by pizza, red meat and goat cheese risotto. And sometimes I sleep.

 

 

Love, from the Bottom of a Backpack {Love Story}

Love, from the Bottom of a Backpack {Love Story}
Written by Lisa Mullis of Frenetic Fitness

Several years ago I was in the puppy lust stage of a new dating relationship with a man who was “outdoorsy”. His closets held things like 4 season tents, down sleeping bags that compressed into sacs barely larger than my head, multiple backpacks, titanium cooking utensils and Gore-Tex hiking boots. My closets were full of slingbacks, pumps, ballet flats, clutches, totes, satchels, my Mikasa china and a down comforter that would need its own U-Haul when I moved. He owned a road bike and a mountain bike and could read topographical maps and UTM coordinates. I hadn’t been on a bike since I was in elementary school and didn’t know what a topographical map was, much less UTM coordinates. He took semi-annual weeklong backpacking trips out West with his college friends. I took trips to the mall. I was more familiar with line dancing than zip lines. I could work out one of those bras that had 7 configurations but couldn’t figure out how to strap on a backpack without help. Sleeping under the stars? Yes, but only if there was a giant skylight in my bedroom. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that as the relationship progressed, he would need to find out if I was going to fit in with that part of his life. He arranged a test: a weekend backpacking trip to North Sylamore Creek near the town of Fifty-Six in the north central part of the state.

How was I, a person who had moved to Arkansas as a child and had spent all her formative years here so unfamiliar with the outdoors, he wondered? Because my parents were not outdoor people, that’s why. My dad was a Vietnam Vet who had done his share of bivouacking and told us from the time we were little that camping was out of the question. That was not an experience he would repeat without being paid to do so. I did go to church camps a few times as a girl, and did not enjoy it. But I liked this guy and while he was more certain about our relationship than I was at this point, I thought I should at least try to see what he found so appealing about this camping thing. So with my hiking boots of questionable quality, a borrowed backpack full of borrowed gear and one new nylon shirt purchased that morning because I had packed cotton, not realizing that was a big no-no, we set out for our first joint backwoods experience.

Within an hour of starting off down a well worn trail, I realized he was leading me farther and farther away from the familiar rut. Soon we were “bushwhacking” in the wilderness. Was he trying to see if I’d freak out? Perhaps he expected me to complain about the rough terrain or the weight of my pack. I was passing the test with flying colors, we were 3 hours into the hike and I was still having a great time, a much better time than I had expected. Soon it was time to get back on the trail so we could start looking for an overnight campsite, but the best place to get back to it would involve climbing a tree up to a ledge above us. Yes, climbing a tree. Was this part of the test? If it was, I figured my grade was about to drop. I wasn’t sure I remembered how to climb a tree. Somehow I managed with less effort than I thought it would take and we journeyed on down the trail, sometimes chatting away about the things people chat about when all their stories are still fresh and haven’t been heard a hundred times over by their partners and sometimes walking in silence with little but the sound of wind in the trees and boots on the ground. After what seemed like days, but was in reality only a few hours, we found a primitive campsite close to a water source. Did I mention he expected me to filter my own drinking water too? I was exhausted. So I was quite happy to let him set up the tent, unload all the gear, start a fire and make me dinner. And then he did something a little unexpected. He pulled out chocolate pudding cups and a little bottle of Grand Marnier for dessert. On our very first date, he ordered Grand Marnier so we could continue to occupy our restaurant table until closing. It was a nice touch, a reminder of romance and that special feeling you get when you connect with someone, and I hadn’t envisioned it happening in the backwoods of Arkansas, pulled from the bottom of a backpack. A girl could get used to this.

I have had plenty of time to get used to it because I fell in love with backpacking on that trip and finally admitted to him what he had suspected for weeks, that I loved him too. Now I have my own backpack and much better boots and we spend as much time out in the woods and on the trails as we can manage. I learned to love it so much that I agreed to go backpacking for a portion of our honeymoon. Okay so it was backpacking in Peru but it was still backpacking. We still hike and backpack, sometimes just the two of us but more often it’s a family affair because we know that as much as we love each other and the beauty of Arkansas, we need to help our kids find their own love for it so it will be treasured and preserved for their kids to love.

I’m a Wife and Mom. I’m a microbiologist. I’m a mountain biker, hiker, backpacker, sometime runner, and workout enthusiast all while being addicted to good food. I write about it at http://freneticfitness.wordpress.com. I also write for www.ArkansasOutside.com about other people who love to play outside too. I’m fueled by pizza, red meat and goat cheese risotto. And sometimes I sleep.