A Jersey Girl

I’m really not what you would call a fashionista.  I don’t have racks of purses, or shoes in every color, or accessories to complement every outfit – heck, I don’t even really have outfits. But I do believe in the energy that a person can get from the right clothing.  You don’t have to own a lot of clothing, just the right pieces – pieces that make you feel confident or respected or approachable or unique.  The Power Tie.  The Perfect Little Black Dress.  The Classic Coat.  Sometimes, just dressing for the part can give you incredible power. 

I learned this when I was only 16 and struggling as a competitive junior cyclist.  When I entered the sport, I used the money that I had saved from my babysitting jobs to buy my first racing bike.  Believe me, I was proud of that purchase.  I thought it was the Ferrari of all bikes, but in comparison to my cycling peers, my pink Miyata was more like a Ford Fiesta.  I’m sure you can imagine that buying the bike and the parts pretty much tapped me out, so I didn’t have the money to buy ‘professional-looking’ cycling clothes like team jerseys, sporty sunglasses, brand-name shorts, and comfortable shoes.  The result was a self-conscience teenage girl who often felt like the other racers really didn’t take her too seriously because she didn’t look the part. 

I was convinced that if I looked better, I could play the part better.  I had no idea, as I was boarding my flight to Europe with my Nana, that this theory was about to be tested.  The summer of my sophomore year in high school Nana had invited me to be her traveling companion to Belgium to visit old friends.  It was July and the Tour de France was in full swing as I watched one of the stages with our host.  Although the race was televised in French, he also spoke English so he was a great translator for me as we watched the race.  After a while, he realized that I knew a bit about cycling and we began to talk about my involvement in the sport.  I remember feeling awkward as we chatted – me being a 16 year old girl from America and he being a 30-something attorney from Belgium – but the event was a great common denominator.

Ludo Loos wearing the jersey that became my special gift.

As Nana and I said goodbye to our Belgian family at the end of our stay, my Tour de France-watching friend handed me two very authentic-looking European cycling jerseys.  He explained that they had once belonged to a professional Belgian road cyclist who gave them to him because it was all he had of value to pay his legal fees.  The cyclist’s name was Ludo Loos and these were his team jerseys.  One of them he had actually worn in the 1980 Tour de France when he won Stage 18.  This was one of the most incredible gifts I had ever been given.  I felt the energy from the moment I held the wool jerseys in my hands.  I couldn’t even imagine what it was going to be like wearing them on my rides. 

Although many people would be aghast to know that I trained in these authentic jerseys every day, there was no question that I would and I have no regrets that I did.  When I wore them it was as if I were channeling the energy of a legend.  As I cranked up the hills and tucked down the descents, I was now somehow akin to Ludo Loos – Belgian Tour de France racer.  I was stronger.  I had more courage.  I had power.  In my mind, I deserved to be on the road and competing with my fellow cyclists.  In my heart, it was possible to become a legend.

The powerful jersey I still own after 30 years and over 100 rides.