You will see them on Nairobi’s roads, sometimes before the usual morning traffic builds up, and sometimes long after sunrise. Their bikes hum against the tarmac and sweat beads on their brows.
To the matatu drivers, bodaboda riders, and bystanders, they are a curiosity. In the streets, cyclists call them wafinyi — loosely translated to mean “those who press.” And pressing the pedals, they do.
Cycling in Kenya has long been considered the domain of men, but Catherine, Winnie and Julia are spearheading a shift unfolding on two wheels, and championing the cause of making cycling more mainstream for women.
They all started out as novices with gear that they laugh about now because it can’t come anywhere close to the elite level they have since assumed.
Cycling has enabled them to raise the Kenyan flag high on foreign soil, both regionally and internationally. In all they do, they are determined to secure a place for women in a sport that is still struggling for recognition.
Chasing medals
When Catherine Kariuki, popularly known as Kate Karis, speaks about cycling, she oscillates between pride and disbelief.
“I think I have over 50 medals,” she says. At 31, she is one of the most recognisable female cyclists in Nairobi’s elite racing circles, known for her speed and lately, her gravel adventures.
Her journey began at Kenyatta University out of necessity.
“My bike was for commuting to school,” she remembers. It was a heavy frame, unwieldy and slow, but it offered a distraction from personal struggles she was going through at the time.
One day, a cycling group invited her on a ride. The distances escalated quickly, from casual spins around Kahawa Sukari to a 70-kilometre “baptism for beginners.” She struggled with sore muscles, exhaustion, and all kinds of muscle aches, but the exhilaration was intoxicating.
Kate found her tribe in RDX — Riders Express — a cycling group that nurtured her talent. When they realised her bike was holding her back, they contributed money and bought her a better one. That moment, she says, was the real start of her racing journey.
Since then, Kate has ridden across terrains that many Kenyan cyclists only dream of. In 2023, she joined an expedition in Japan, bikepacking from Hiroshima to Tokyo with her luggage strapped to her frame.
“Bikepacking is about adventure,” she says. “You carry everything on your bike and just go. It was hard, but fulfilling.”
Beyond local criteriums at Kasarani, Karura gravel events, and the Tour de Machakos, she has lined up for the African Continental Championships, tested herself in Rwanda, where she represented Kenya at the world stage, and continues to dominate in endurance events — including some punishing 300-kilometre rides.
And each year without fail, she has been on the start line of the Jubilee Live Free Race, her most consistent proving ground and the event she credits for keeping her competitive spirit alive.
Cyclist Catherine Kariuki at Mt Fuji World Heritage Centre Shizouka, Japan in May 2025.
Photo credit: Pool
Bumpy ride
Touring abroad, however, is anything but affordable. t one point, her road bike was worth Sh450,000. Then there's the cost of a plane ticket, bike bag, riding kit, food and accommodation to consider.
“If you’re camping, it’s cheap, actually. But hotels are expensive, and food too, depending on where you are. Camping makes it slower, because you’re carrying gear, but it’s such a beautiful experience — like a safari on a bike.”
She has now participated in over 50 races, but her journey has not been without bumps.
A major accident two years ago left her shaken and her bike was written off. The ensuing court case dragged on, draining her mentally and led to an illness that forced her to back down from a competition.
Despite this setback, her spirit was not crushed. Sponsored by the Nairobi Hospice, she has competed in every edition of the Jubilee Live Free Race, an event she calls “a reminder that cycling is freedom.”
And then there is the insecurity. “I can’t go on long rides alone anymore,” she says. “There are muggers on the bypasses, and harassment is real.” The harassment is often gendered — catcalling, jeers, even fellow cyclists questioning why women ride. “Someone once told me, ‘You’re destroying your body, just get married.’”
During the interview, Kate laughs at the absurdity, but admits it stings.
She laments about Kenya’s cycling federation, which she says does not support athletes enough. “Our riders went to Rwanda for the world championships with no proper bikes for time trials. Other countries invest in their athletes. We don’t.”
At home, her father has quietly supported her. “At first, he encouraged me. He told me, ‘After two years, you’ll grow.’ He hasn’t said much since, but I know he believes in me.”
Cyclist Catherine Kariuki outside Kumamoto Castle in Japan in May 2025.
Photo credit: Pool
She trains six days a week, juggling interval sessions, long rides, and recovery. Nutrition is cobbled together with what she can afford — bananas, ugali and the occasional supplements.
Her biggest trigger remains the stigma: “When people say cycling is for the poor. That mentality has to change. People are riding bikes worth a million shillings — you can’t call that poverty. My prayer is for Kenya to become like Japan, where cycling is a culture. You see people in suits on bikes. That’s what I want for us.”
To the next generation, her message is “You’re capable. Train hard. You have more potential than us. We are fighting for you in the federation. The future will be better.”
Going places
Winnie “Mashan” Wandiga talks about cycling as though it were an extension of her heartbeat. “Cycling is what I do, cycling is what I live,” she says.
At 28, she works as a sports leader for cycling at Decathlon, the global sporting retailer, where she spends her days teaching customers about gear and coaching beginners.
Cyclist Winnie ‘Mashan’ Wandiga before the Ngong to Kigali tour on September 19, 2025.
Photo credit: Pool
Her story begins in childhood. In her neighbourhood, every child seemed to own a bike, and she rode hers. She picked cycling again after high school, with a clunky mountain bike branded Cheetah, which she bought from a supermarket. She had it until it rattled itself apart.
“I loved that bike with everything I had,” she says. “But it would break down every time I rode it.”
Her next step was Speed Kings, a club that trained and raced together. The coach, spotting her passion, gave her a hybrid bike to use.
“It was my introduction to real cycling,” she recalls.
Soon, she moved from a hybrid to a full road bike — aerodynamic, sleek, and built for speed. Today, she dreams of owning a gravel bike: “It’s like a road bike but with bigger tyres. It can do both off-road and on-road. That’s my next target.”
For Winnie, the Rwanda ride in 2024 was a turning point. “The reason I went to Rwanda was to connect to the bigger world.” She rode from Nairobi to Kigali in seven days, peddling for 12 hours every day.
“It was exhausting, but it gave me perspective. Cycling can take you places, physically and in life.”
Though she rides in races, Winnie insists she is not chasing professional status. “I don’t train to win. I train because I love cycling, and it keeps me mentally okay. If I win, it’s fine, but that’s not the goal.”
Winnie mentors women and children, teaching them to ride and maintain bikes. She even developed her own degreaser for cleaning drivetrains, turning her passion into entrepreneurship.
For Winnie, cycling is about community — whether in Critical Mass Nairobi, a monthly ride for all levels in Nairobi, or the Gravel Riders Club, which hosts criteriums at Kasarani Stadium.
“When you join these rides, you realise you are not alone,” she says.
Her dream is to become a professional bike mechanic. “Bikes are evolving like cars. We have 2021 models, 2024 models, just like cars, each different. I want to master them inside out.”
She has served as a pilot in paracycling, riding a tandem bike with a visually impaired partner.
“Cycling is not just for the able-bodied. It’s for everyone. Start now, don’t wait. Don’t think about when you’ll afford a better bike. When I started, cycling wasn’t even known in Nairobi. Now there are bikes everywhere. Just start. Cycling will take you places.”
A paracyclist
At 37, Julia Alice Miring’u has lived multiple cycling lives — from a girl racing a Black Mamba in Nyandarua, to a professional rider under RDX, to now a paracyclist representing Kenya on the international stage.
In primary school, she taught herself to ride her family’s heavy Black Mamba. When she relocated to Samburu to live with her sister, she picked cycling to school as a way of life since it was what other school-going children did.
“I was racing neighbourhood children and sometimes competing with the school bus.”
Julia took part in her first-ever Samburu Camel Derby on an MTB and won. That was close to twenty years ago.
Then she dropped out in Class Eight, got married young, and left cycling behind. Years later, in 2019, she stumbled across a friend’s WhatsApp profile photo. He wore a cycling helmet. Curious, she asked to join his group, and suddenly she was in a chat with 250 cyclists. And just like that, her passion was reignited.
With no bike and no money, she borrowed Sh30,000 from M-Shwari and bought a heavy 19-kilogramme frame. Men in the group ridiculed her, warning that she would injure herself. But she persisted, training alone until she could join group rides.
Her breakthrough came in 2021 when the Kenya Cycling Federation took her to the Tour Cycliste Internationale Féminine de Burundi, a five-stage race. She finished in the top three in several stages, riding borrowed bikes. Soon after, she competed in Namibia, Morocco, and the UK, often at a disadvantage but proving her grit.
In 2023, she got into paracycling. She partnered with a blind rider on a tandem bike for the African Championships in Egypt. Navigating steep banked tracks, they won three silver medals. “On a tandem, you’re not riding alone,” she explains. “You have to think for your partner, guide them, even at mealtimes. It’s about trust.”
Now officially a paracyclist under Kenya’s team, Julia has raced in five countries. She juggles motherhood with training, coaching children, and running a bike repair side hustle. To save on maintenance costs, she studied mechanics. “I own five bikes — MTB, road, gravel, plus my children’s bikes. Each service costs about Sh3,000. So I decided to learn mechanics myself.”
For Julia, cycling is both empowerment and escape. “Sport teaches you that you can’t go alone. You need support, you need teammates.” She admits the sport is growing slowly in Kenya, but she is hopeful. “When I started in 2020, there were very few women cyclists. Now, I see private camps training girls. It’s changing.”
At this year’s Jubilee Live Free Race, Julia will compete both as a solo rider and as a paracyclist. “I have trained for both. I am lucky because the two rides are spaced, and I will have time to compete in both, and I hope we win in both categories.”
