Letters: Why Britain has a bad attitude towards bicycles
Your review of research about attitudes to cycling is very disappointing and a contrast to my recent visit to Amsterdam, where the visitor finds well-marked cycle pathways everywhere, cycle parks the size of a multi-storey car park and hire prices as little as £7 per day
Britons unmoved by pro-cycling campaigns
Most regard bicycles not as legitimate form of transport but as children's toys or preserve of hobbyists, research finds
Years of government efforts to promote cycling have had almost no impact on a sceptical population who largely view bikes as either children's toys or the preserve of Lycra-clad hobbyists, a university study has found.
The coalition has pledged more than £500m over five years on pro-cycling efforts. But the research indicates these reach only the small proportion of people already interested in cycling, leaving others unmoved.
The study, which investigates in depth why people in four towns or cities around England cycle – or, in the main, don't cycle – is still being completed. The academics behind them will gather in Leicester this weekend to present their preliminary findings, which make depressing reading for anyone hopeful the UK could one day have a Dutch-style mass cycling culture.
"Many people barely recognise the bicycle as a legitimate mode of transport; it is either a toy for children or a vehicle fit only for the poor and/or strange," Dave Horton, of Lancaster University, wrote in an interim assessment of the Understanding Walking and Cycling study.
"For them, cycling is a bit embarrassing, they fail to see its purpose, and have no interest in integrating it into their lives, certainly on a regular basis."
The three-year project, which also involved Oxford Brookes and Leeds universities, used questionnaires sent to a large numbers of households as well as more in-depth studies about the everyday transport decisions made by dozens of families, during which researchers spent three months each in Lancaster, Leeds, Leicester and Worcester.
A key finding was that the small numbers of people who do try cycling tend to be intimidated by overwhelmingly car-oriented urban layouts.
Even to experienced riders these often resemble "a dangerous obstacle course", Horton said. "The minority of people who cycle in English cities tend to do so despite, not because of, existing conditions. Some people try cycling, but are quickly put off."
Many see cycling as, at best, something reserved for country weekends rather than everyday travel. The few who do ride in cities tend to be keen enthusiasts, thus reinforcing the niche image."Regrettably, we did not find this mass of people on the threshold of change, who only needed a little push to start cycling as a daily means of getting around,," said Griet Scheldeman, also of Lancaster University. "The hardy, Lycra-clad cyclists confirm that cycling is a very skilled practice, from which most people immediately distance themselves. So far, cycling promotion still reaches mainly that smallish part of the population that does not really need that much convincing."
Another cycling study will report its interim findings this weekend. Cycling Cultures, involving academics at the University of East London (UEL), took the parallel approach of investigating what happens in four areas with relatively high levels of cycling: Bristol, Cambridge, Hull and Hackney in east London.
While it identified positive initiatives such as office bike pools it also found many concerns, for example cyclists' complaints of harassment by drivers.
While some towns and cities, notably London, have seen increases in cyclist numbers over recent years the overall figure for the national percentage of journeys made by bike has remained at about 2%. The equivalent for the Netherlands is more than 25%.
The Lancaster study concludes that even training the young to ride safely achieves little while road conditions remain so unfriendly. The only way to bring in mass cycling, the researchers argue, would be a series of ambitious, hugely costly – and seemingly unlikely – measures to reshape towns and cities. Chief among these would be to build well-made, continuous, segregated cycle routes on all major urban roads and encourage people out of cars by restricting traffic speeds and parking. Another reform would be a European-style "strict liability" law in which the automatic assumption of responsibility would rest with the less vulnerable road user.
It was vital, Horton said, that cycling advocates got behind the idea of segregated lanes: "The cycling world has in the past been divided over the best way of growing cycling. But if we want to achieve high levels of cycling across our cities, this has to change.
"Perhaps above all, and probably most controversially, our research has made it very clear to us that in order to create a mass cycling culture in English cities we need to segregate cycling from motorised traffic along main roads. Combined with a range of other measures, very high quality segregated cycle routes could push English city cycling from its currently marginal status towards a mass phenomenon."
The cycle campaign group CTC said it agreed that many roads were "thoroughly off-putting" for cyclists but that a mass programme of high-quality bike lanes – which some estimates put at £800,000 per kilometre – remained unlikely given the cycling lobby's lack of political clout.
"This new research certainly opens up some really interesting debates about how to redesign our roads and streets to get more people cycling," said Roger Geffen, CTC's campaigns manager. "But the even bigger question is how to mobilise the political will to make this cycle-friendly future a reality."
The transport minister, Norman Baker, said the government was committed to encouraging more people to cycle though Bikeability and the £560m sustainable transport fund. "Like another Norman before me I am keen to see more people get on their bikes," he said.
The Guardian's bike blog book, Cyclebabble: Bloggers on Biking, is out now
CyclingTransport policyTransportFitnessPeter Walkerguardian.co.ukAre women-only cycling events a good idea? | Sam Haddad
The inception of the female-only 40km Cycletta begs the question whether such events are helpful or patronising
When an email about the Cycletta, a 40km women-only spin-off of the Sky Ride, arrived in my inbox, my first thought was: do we really need recreational cycle rides to be split along gender lines?
I understand that when it comes to elite racing, as a rule, men post faster times than women, so it makes sense to divide the races accordingly, but leisure riding is different, surely? And if an equivalent men-only ride were to be created, perhaps partnered with Nuts rather than Grazia, would people not declare it sexist?
I asked Iga Kowalska-Owen, communications manager at British Cycling, who are heavily involved with the Cycletta, why women need their own events. She spoke about the massive gap in cycling participation between the sexes and fired some fairly powerful statistics my way from the 2010/11 Sport England Active People survey.
She said: "Only one in four people who cycle once a week are women. Two per cent of the female population cycle once a week compared with 6% of men." And perhaps most worrying of all, "The number of women cycling once per week has decreased by over 35,000 in the last three years."
This year, British Cycling did a further survey to find out what was discouraging women from riding, and the results cited "safety concerns, lack of knowledge of routes and having no one to cycle with." The Cycletta seeks to address these issues, as does the Breeze Network, another British Cycling initiative with local, informal rides "led by women for women". Being intimidated by male cyclists was not mentioned (in the results I saw at least) but when I canvassed the opinions of fellow female cyclists, many of them believed that would be a big factor in putting off women from taking up the sport.
Dawn Foster, who founded the blog 101wankers.com to log sexist comments she and others received on their bikes said: "A number of women have contacted me, asking what the best way to learn to cycle on roads is as an adult, as they've often been intimidated by cat-calling, or mocking jeers if they wobble or brake too suddenly.
"I've found cycling with groups of women of mixed ability has bolstered the confidence of participants massively, and also given women cyclists the opportunity to ask gender-specific questions, from tips on what to do when skirts get caught in back brakes, to the more intimate issues regarding saddles and underwear. Cycling alone on roads, especially in cities, can be unnerving and whenever I've ridden with male friends I always worry I won't be able to keep up."
Kellie Parsons marketing manager for Madison says: "I think the idea of women-only rides like Cycletta are great for women who are new to cycling. There are a lot of women who find the idea of cycling with men or even other women of a higher level daunting, and offering women-only rides with no traffic is a great way of building confidence. We all have to start somewhere."
Cycle racer Anna Glowinski, who is also designing the Cycletta jersey, sees an appeal in women-only rides beyond that of the beginner cyclist: "Sometimes women don't like doing sport with men, and enjoy female company. I know I get sick of hanging out with boys all the time and just love it when I get the rare opportunity to ride with the girls. It's fun, we laugh and chat about different things, encourage in a nice way, and compete with each other because we can."
The UK's national cyclists' organisation, CTC, has included two women-only rides, in Reading and Leeds, on its 2011 sportive series for the first time this year, with distances of 25km, 50km and 80km. I asked their business development manager, John Storms, why he felt the events were needed. He said: "The sportive population can be as much as 90:10 men to women, and sometimes this is quite intimidating. In a ride of 500 people, it's not fun to have 450 in front of you. There's an established template for women's only events in the running world. They've realised that participants want a feeling of sameness with those around them."
But not everyone I spoke to felt the need for women-only events. Therese Bjorn rode the Etape du Tour with Rapha in 2008. "Female riders were few and far between. I imagine due to the format of the event: 160-something kilometres over two massive climbs and a highly competitive spirit amongst the riders taking part. I don't really enjoy a women-only environment. I'm also very competitive and really quite enjoyed whooping the ass of most of the guys that I rode with in the Etape."
And would-be cyclist Lizzi Wagner says: "These rides seem like a pretty good way of building up confidence as a cyclist, although I'm not sure about the gender-specific angle. I understand some women may feel less confident with men around, but surely there are a large number of nervous male cyclists too and we all have to live together right?!"
I don't have much experience of organised rides, but I did do a 140km charity leg of the Tour of Britain a couple of years ago, where I was one of handful of girls riding and, like many of them, was one of the last to finish. It didn't spur me to seek out a women-only equivalent but it did make me want to cycle faster and among slightly less serious cyclists. But I think anything that gets more people cycling, especially under-represented groups such as women, can only be applauded. What do you think?
•is the editor of Cooler, a sport and style magazine for young women
CyclingFitnessWomenSam Haddadguardian.co.ukThe inside track … on paddling
Wear flip-flops in the sea if you want to avoid an excruciating encounter with the poisonous weever fish
A quick splash at the water's edge might seem like the best way to cool your tired feet when the sun's out – but chiropodist Fred Beaumont warns that if you go barefoot, it's something you could live to regret. "I always wear flip-flops when paddling, and tell my patients to do the same," he says. "A few years ago, I was bitten [see footnote] by a weever fish in shallow water – the pain was excruciating, and I couldn't run for a
James DeGale: How I train
Olympic gold medallist James DeGale on battling the 'fat gene', building muscle and relaxing after a hard workout
What is your fitness regime like?I train four hours a day, six days a week. I do a lot of running, I do lots of strength and conditioning, lots of contact sparring. I do ground work, lots of lifting my own body weight – it's pretty hard and pretty intense but you have to go through it.
What's your workout like on an average day?I wake up at 6am and have a recovery run in Epping forest, probably around eight or nine miles. I go back to my coach's house, sleep, have something to eat, then I go back to the gym at 1pm. I do various things in the gym, like strength and conditioning, sparring, pads, and then I have a shower and go home, relax and recover for the next day's hard training. Keeping physically fit helps keep me mentally in the zone as well.
Is cardiovascular training just as important as building muscle?It is; obviously we have to make weight [for a fight]. I do a lot of running: I run four or five times a week. I probably do 25-30 miles in a week. The majority of fighters are not big and bulky and muscly, they're lean athletes.
How do you lose weight for a fight?I have to make 12 stone. I walk around at about 13.5 stone, so I have to get down and watch what I eat. Losing weight for me is about eating healthy and training hard and the weight falls off me.
Do you always keep an eye on what you eat?Of course. I've got the "fat gene" in my family, so I've always got to watch what I eat. Prior to a fight when I have to make weight, obviously I can't eat all the rubbish - chocolate and stuff like that. Straight after I can relax and eat what I want.
Are boxing classes a good way for regular people to lose weight and stay fit?It's a fantastic way [to get fit]. What's that thing my coach says? "Get fighting fit without getting hit". There's lots of cardio and it's a great way to get weight off and keep fit. You don't have to be interested in fighting.
What are your methods for building muscle and strength?We do a lot of strength and conditioning work. We don't lift heavy, heavy weight; it's light weights but lots of repetitions. We lift our own body weight a lot, so pull-ups, lots of dips, lots of push-ups.
How do you recover from injury?I've been lucky, I haven't been injured too much … the last injury I had was runner's knee. That drove me mad because I couldn't run past 10 minutes without it hurting. But with good physio and good people around you, you get it sorted.
How do you relax away from the gym?When I'm not preparing for a fight, I like to chill, go to the cinema and socialise with my mates.
• James DeGale was speaking at a training session incorporating the boxing game on Kinect Sports for Xbox 360. For more information, visit xbox.com/kinectsports.
FitnessJames DeGaleBoxingAlan Gardnerguardian.co.ukRunning with the Kenyans: Improvisation and brilliance in the Rift Valley
Some of the events may seem like a chaotic school sports day, but on the Kameriny Stadium track Adharanand Finn sees an astonishing display of speed
The small stand and the grassy banks that surround the Kameriny stadium in Iten are crowded with serious faces. Schoolchildren in ripped jumpers and long grey shorts are taking forever to line up the hurdles in the home straight. Their task is not helped by the flimsy hurdle stands, bits of rusted metal that keep falling out of their slots. To keep them from toppling over, the children put bricks on them. In the end they look wonky, but at least they're up.
Before the wind blows any over, the starter fires his pistol and four women come racing up the home straight, stuttering before each hurdle, knocking most of them over, despite the bricks. The winner pumps her fist in victory, but nobody cheers.
A local track meeting in the Rift Valley in Kenya is a mixture of haplessness, improvisation and brilliance. In some of the field events it feels like the organisers have simply plucked a few random passers-by to compete. Men in trousers and wellington boots fling the discus, while at the pole vault mat, the marshals sit chatting and waiting to see if anyone turns up. Nobody does.
The high jump features a host of tall, skinny athletes who rush at the bar and karate kick themselves over. Despite their lack of conventional technique, they manage to reach the impressive height of almost two metres, somehow contorting and twisting their bodies up and over the bar.
It all feels a bit like a school sports day, a commendable effort, a bit of fun. That is, until the distance athletes file onto the track. Then, suddenly, this dusty track that sits on the edge of the clouds, the vast Rift Valley spread out far below, becomes host to some of the most fiercely competitive racing you could possibly hope to see anywhere in the world.
In the men's 1500m, there are nine heats with around 20 athletes in each one. When the starting gun fires, they charge off, sprinting like the light brigade in fast forward. In the 5000m they seem to start just as fast. And there are just as many runners.
None of the most famous Kenyan athletes have turned up to race.
"They know you can't run fast times on this track," one former runner tells me. The dirt track is soft from the rain the night before. It sits at an altitude of over 8000ft. And, by all accounts, it is at least a few metres too long.
Yet, despite all this, the distance events are run at a breakneck speed. The 800m heats, eight of them in all, are each won in around one minute 49 seconds. While the 5000m final is won in just over 14 minutes.
Interestingly, some of the athletes at the back of the field trail home in fairly slow times. I'm amazed to see 1500m runners finishing in times slower than I used to run at school. I know the track is slow, but surely not that slow. In all the training I've done in Kenya, I've rarely met another runner slower than me, so what's going on?
The answer is that every athlete sets off as though he is going to win, sprinting the first lap at least. Even after just 200 metres, some athletes are dropping out of races, sheepish grins on their faces, disappearing off the track and into the crowd. If they don't drop out, they end up jogging around to the finish.
Among the crowd, I bump into the coach of the 800m world record holder, David Rudisha. I ask him why everyone starts off so fast.
"It's OK," he says with a smile. "Here, they are learning to race. After this, they can run in Rome or Oslo."
This is the breeding ground for the great Kenyan runners of tomorrow. They may have natural talent – I see that everyday on the roads in Iten – but now, here on the track, the final piece of their apprenticeship is taking place: race tactics. And it's interesting to see that this is one area where they still have a lot to learn.
• The book Running with the Kenyans by Adharanand Finn will be published in 2012
FitnessRunningKenyaAdharanand Finnguardian.co.ukRunning up the Ngong Hills
Adharanand Finn heads to Nairobi for a dawn run up a mountain. Is he finally getting fit enough to keep up with the Kenyans?
My alarm goes off at 5.15am. I sit on the edge of my bed trying to wake up. It's still dark outside. I'm in Nairobi, about to head out into the Ngong Hills to run with a group of Kenyans I've never met before. Right now it all seems vaguely ridiculous. I'm 37. An average runner. I've got a nice, warm, cosy bed. Why am I leaving it to try in vain to keep up with a bunch of stupidly fast Kenyan runners? I must be mad.
It's a thought process that runs through my mind virtually every time I wake up for one of these early morning runs. But today it's worse. I've been given directions to a side street in Ngong, a busy, run-down satellite town on the outskirts of Nairobi. At 6am, apparently, a group of athletes meet there every morning. That's all I know. Just turning up unannounced is a daunting prospect.
I drive up to Ngong and pull my car up on the side of the street. I turn off the lights and sit tight, listening to the Christian rap music on the radio. I'm about 10 minutes early and the side road is deserted as far as I can make out in the darkness.
A figure comes walking past suddenly, peering in through the window at me. I turn off the radio. I feel suddenly vulnerable sitting here in my car. I imagine what the runners will think when I step out of my car and walk over to say hello. It would be better without the car, I decide. I've got 10 minutes to kill, anyway. It would be safer parked on the main road.
I turn the engine back on, like a loud cough, the headlights glaring at everything as I turn the car and head back up into Ngong.
Once I've parked, I jog back along the edge of the main road to the side street. And sure enough, there they are. About eight athletes stand stretching in the tiny beginnings of morning, a red glow scratching the horizon behind them.
They all turn to watch me as I walk over. One smiles. "Jambo," he says.
I shake his hand, and ask if it's OK if I run with them.
"Fine, fine," they say.
"We're running up the hill," says one. That doesn't sound promising.
"I'll try to keep up."
"Up the mountain," he says. "But not fast. Easy." Like other Kenyan runners, he over-emphasises the word "easy", as though he means it's going to be the easiest thing you've ever done, like lying back on a sun-lounger as someone slices up a mango and feeds it to you piece by piece. Not like a run up a mountain in the cold dawn.
We set off jogging slowly and I slot in behind the front few runners. After a few moments we start our ascent, going at a comfortable pace. I've seen the Ngong Hills from a distance. They didn't seem that high, so I'm not too worried. I'll just stick with them for as long as I can, I think, trying to remember the way we've run so I can turn back if I need to.
After a while people start dropping off from the group. Is the pace too quick, I wonder. Perhaps the runners here are not as good as in Iten. They all look like decent runners, with their long, skinny legs and calf muscles like bricks inserted under their tights. My calves just don't look like that, even when I tense them as hard as I can.
After about 20 minutes we're still climbing, running past small houses and children walking to school. The dawn is in full bloom now, striping the sky in red and yellow. One of the runners turns to me.
"How are you feeling?" I'm fine, actually. My legs don't feel tired. I'm breathing OK. But I don't want to sound cocky.
"OK," I say. "A bit breathless." Suddenly I do feel breathless. Another of the runners looks at me over his shoulder.
"Is it OK?" he asks. They seem surprised that I'm still with them, and their lack of belief is sowing doubts in my mind. Before I know it I'm starting to struggle. I wonder what happened to the other five runners. Maybe I'm going too fast. Perhaps I should slow down and wait for them.
"Where are the others?" I ask, but almost before the words are out I hear the patter of feet as they run up behind us. The pace suddenly picks up and they all start pushing on. The path seems to be getting steeper. I'm done for.
One of the runners kindly slows down to wait for me. Up, up, up we go. Out of the houses and on to a neat, sparse mountainside.
On we run. Every time I think we must be reaching the top, it turns out to be another false summit. And each time the next bit is even steeper. I begin to labour like a 20-stone jogger. Tiny pitter-patter steps that barely seem to inch me on. And still it goes on. Past huge swooping wind turbines, like spaceships from a distant future that have landed silently in the night. Up more, along a path so smooth, so steep. And all the time, the other runner stays with me, quietly encouraging me.
Virtually every athlete I have met in Kenya has shown me the same kindness. Many of them are struggling to make enough money even to buy food. They live in small shacks without electricity or running water, struggling to make headway in a saturated field in which only a very few will succeed. Yet they do it so well, and with such dedication, that every one of them would be a champion in virtually any other country in the world, would be lauded and celebrated, instead of being just another nameless runner making his way along the roads and tracks of Ngong or Iten.
Yet in this struggle there is no resentment towards the hapless mzungu [white man] with the car and the money to shop in supermarkets and travel the world and eat ice-cream. Instead, all they ever show me is compassion. As a fellow runner, no matter how slow, they offer me only encouragement. It is quite humbling.
As we finally approach the great peak of Ngong Hill, the whole of Kenya seems to stretch out around us. Distant mountains poke up out of the dawn mist, as a huge orange ball of sun begins its own ascent up into the hazy, pink sky. The air is cool and fresh, breathing life into me with each gulp.
"It's beautiful up here," I say to the runner beside me. He looks around as though he hasn't considered this before. "Yes," he says.
We're almost at the top when the rest of our group comes trundling back down the slope towards us. "Turn around," they say. Relieved I turn my weary legs. It's hard to believe how high we have come. It's like looking out across the world from an aeroplane. Did I really run up this far? I must be getting fitter. Surely.
• The book Running with the Kenyans by Adharanand Finn will be published in 2012
RunningFitnessKenyaAdharanand Finnguardian.co.ukBrain haemorrhage: How climbing mountains saved me
The fact that mountain-climbing GP Alistair Sutcliffe had spent time at low-oxygen altitude levels trained his brain to
Roller derby: The Tiger Bay Brawlers – video
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Dr Luisa Dillner’s guide to … tai chi
A report this month says that tai chi for older people can improve mental health and help prevent falls
If you think you are too old to take up martial arts, think again. A study in this month's British Journal of Sports Medicine says that tai chi, an ancient Chinese martial art, can reduce the risk in older people of falling over and improve mental health. It certainly looks relaxing. But does it really work?
What is tai chi?
The American Tai Chi Association says the discipline started as a martial art in the 12th century. The name has been translated to mean a number of things from "supreme ultimate boxing" to "boundless fist". The founder is thought to be a Taoist monk, Chang San-Feng, who noted that the crane and snake were the animals most likely to overcome opponents, and developed exercises that copied their fluidity, flexibility and strength.
When practising tai chi, proponents sink their weight into the ground. There are a number of styles – some have more forceful movements and others are more gentle and fluid. Tai chi, as practised for health, has slow, continuous, small-to-large movements. The weight is moved from one half of the body to the other, and the head and the rest of the body are rotated. You have to control your centre of gravity and breathe through your diaphragm. Your mind should be calm. It's all about core strength, balance and releasing tension. What can't be good about that?
But is it exercise?
It is a low-impact exercise, which means it's good for everyone. It's classed as moderate and benefits can be seen in people who do it twice a week for an hour each time; if you do more, you get more benefits. It is weight-bearing (so helps strengthen bones) and aerobic (so you can fill your lungs with oxygen). It burns calories at around the same rate as brisk walking.
What is it meant to do?
Chinese traditional medicine stresses the importance of energy pathways through the body. Tai chi encourages a smooth circulation of energy, and eliminates any imbalances.
What is the evidence for health