It’s called fashion, sweetie

I spent the past few weeks riding some of the best mountain bike parks on the east coast of NSW. Purpose-built trails, flowing descents, endless laps and car parks full of all kinds of people on all different kinds of bikes.

I felt like I didn’t belong as I rolled up to these mountain bike parks in lycra

And yet, more than once, I felt like I didn’t belong as I rolled up to these mountain bike parks in lycra. Not ‘secretly wearing lycra under shorts’, but the full commitment kind. Tight shorts, jersey, my shoe colour matched my sock colour type of commitment. The kind of kit that whispers ‘endurance ride’ even when you’re standing at the base of a gravity-fed network surrounded by full-face helmets and knee pads. I felt that faint but undeniable sense that I had missed the memo. Everyone looked ready to drop in a video edit, throwing whips and doing skids. I looked like I was hoping for my call up in the next Tour de France.

No one said a word, but the contrast – I felt – did the talking.

The Great Mountain Biking Dress Code (that definitely doesn’t exist)

Mountain biking, of course, has no dress code. We all know that. But it does have vibes.

Bike parks have a particular look: baggy shorts, peaked helmets, body armour peaking out from jerseys, full-face lids dangling from handlebars. It’s practical, protective and undeniably cool. Standing among it all in lycra felt a bit like turning up to a costume party dressed as myself.

And yet, mountain biking is a sport full of contradictions. We preach individuality and freedom, then quietly absorb the aesthetics of whatever riding scene we’re in. I became acutely aware that what I was wearing said something, whether I wanted it to or not. Lycra suggests efficiency, long days, and maybe a concerning amount of pedalling. It didn’t scream send it, even if I fully intended to.

Why I Wear Lycra

The truth is, lycra makes sense for the riding I was doing. Big days, linking trails. Pedalling between zones and not just sitting on a shuttle bus. It’s comfortable, breathable, and most importantly, lets me focus on riding, while still being able to carry all the things I may need seamlessly in my back pocket.

But still, every time I queued to check out a trail map, or caught my reflection in a ute tray, I had a quiet laugh. There I was, the local lycra bandit. Lurking in a place that is now more traditionally dominated by baggies and pads.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not losing sleep over this, it really doesn’t matter. The trails don’t care what I wear, nor does anyone else, it’s just funny to reflect on bike-park fashion after spending so much of my Summer exploring them.

Fashion Statements

Helmets might be the funniest examples of all. Peaks, no peaks, half-shells, full-face. Each one quietly signals what kind of rider you might be. None of them actually guarantee skill, confidence, or common sense.

Same goes for pads. Some riders wear them everywhere. Some only when things get spicy. Some swear they ride better without them. None of these choices are wrong, they’re just…choices.

What struck me most on this trip was how many different kinds of riders were sharing the same trails, and truly made me feel so happy to see the growth and expansion of this sport. Gravity kids, cross country converts, gravel lords, weekend warriors, veterans who’ve seen every trend come and go. All dressed differently. All riding their own way.

The Best Thing About Mountain Biking

If mountain biking has taught me anything, it’s that there’s no single way to participate. You don’t age out of it. You don’t outgrow certain clothes. You don’t have to choose one tribe and stay there forever.

Some days you want pads and a full-face. Some days you want pockets and airflow. Some days you want both and compromise badly.

So yes, I rode NSW’s best parks in lycra. I felt a bit out of place. But I had a great time. So next time you see someone that isn’t dressed to the non-existent rules of bike-park fashion, remember they’re out riding for the day they had planned.

As for me? I’ll be easy to spot. I’ll be the lycra bandit, happily pedaling along.