Cycling is supposed to be simple. You hop on a bike, pedal, and enjoy the ride. But step into any cycling community—whether it’s road cycling, mountain biking, particularly in the enthusiast space —and you’ll quickly discover it’s anything but simple. Behind the spandex and carbon fiber lies a complex web of unwritten rules, memes, and cultural gatekeeping that can make newcomers feel like they’re trying to crack a secret code.

The Meme Machine of Exclusion

Take the recent wave of EMTB (electric mountain bike) memes that have flooded social media. These digital jabs consistently portray e-mountain biking as somehow “lesser than” traditional mountain biking—less serious, less authentic, and at times, less masculine. The underlying message is clear: if you need motor assistance, you’re not really mountain biking. Never mind that e-bikes open up trails to older riders, those with physical limitations, or people who simply want to extend their range and enjoyment.

Similarly, the wildly popular Pannolati Instagram account has built a following by showcasing cyclists in less-than-ideal attire. While ostensibly humorous, these posts reinforce the notion that there’s a “right” way to look while cycling. The cyclist wearing baggy shorts and a cotton t-shirt becomes the butt of the joke, while the properly kitted rider in matching team colors earns silent approval.

Then there are “The Rules”—a semi-satirical but surprisingly serious set of guidelines for road cycling that cover everything from bike positioning to appropriate attire. While presented with tongue-in-cheek humor, these rules reflect real attitudes within the cycling community about what constitutes proper cycling behavior and appearance.

The Trinity of Cycling Gatekeeping

These cultural phenomena all feed into what I call the Trinity of Cycling Gatekeeping—three core messages that permeate enthusiast cycling culture:

You don’t ride enough. Whether it’s weekly mileage, elevation gain, or time spent in the saddle, there’s always someone riding more. The person doing 100 miles a week looks down on the weekend warrior, while the weekend warrior questions the commitment of the casual commuter.

You aren’t fast enough. Speed becomes a measure of worthiness. KOM hunters obsess over Strava segments, group ride dynamics shift based on who can hold what pace, and average speeds become badges of honor or sources of shame.

You don’t dress the part. From color coordination to brand selection, how you look while cycling sends signals about your seriousness and belonging in the community. Wear the wrong shorts or ride the wrong bike, and you might find yourself on the outside looking in.

The Case for Standards

Before dismissing this culture entirely, it’s worth acknowledging that some level of gatekeeping serves important functions. High standards push the sport forward, encouraging innovation in equipment and technique. The pursuit of performance excellence has given us lighter bikes, better components, and more efficient training methods that benefit everyone.

These cultural norms also create identity and belonging for those within the tribe. Shared suffering in training rides, mutual appreciation for quality equipment, and collective pursuit of improvement forge strong bonds between cyclists. There’s something powerful about being part of a community that values dedication and excellence.

Moreover, certain aspects of cycling culture—like emphasizing proper safety equipment or encouraging skill development—serve legitimate purposes beyond mere gatekeeping. The experienced rider who insists on helmet use or suggests technique improvements might be motivated by genuine concern rather than exclusionary intent.

The Cost of Exclusion

However, the dark side of this culture is increasingly apparent. When cycling communities become too insular and demanding, they exclude people who could genuinely benefit from and contribute to the sport. The new rider intimidated by group ride etiquette, the casual cyclist mocked for their equipment choices, or the e-bike rider dismissed as “not a real cyclist” represents lost opportunities for community growth and diversity.

This gatekeeping particularly impacts groups already underrepresented in cycling. Women, people of color, and lower-income individuals often face additional barriers to entry, and exclusive cycling culture only compounds these challenges. When the sport becomes about having the right gear, riding the right amount, and fitting a particular image, it pushes away people who might otherwise find joy and community in cycling.

The irony is that many of cycling’s gatekeepers forget their own humble beginnings. We all started somewhere—probably on the wrong bike, wearing the wrong clothes, and riding embarrassingly slowly. The culture that mocks these beginnings creates a barrier to the very growth and vitality that cycling communities need.