This SF bike club found a secret to success: A pastry at the end of every ride

Cyclists reach a fog-laden Twin Peaks during a morning group ride organized by Fat Cake. The nonprofit hosts multiple group rides every week and has a race team called the Super Sprinkles. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

As I bike through the darkness of Golden Gate Park at 6:25 a.m., it occurs to me that I could go straight to the bakery and eat a pastry right now.

Then I see the lights of 100 cyclists, circled up on JFK Promenade like Lycra-clad vampires, and realize I'm taking the hard way - riding more than 17 miles through the center of San Francisco, around Lake Merced and to the top of the city's second highest peak.

Afterward I'll partake in the contradictory tradition that birthed this group's name: All Fat Cake cycling club workouts end at a purveyor of decadent baked goods.

Cyclists ascend a climb on Buena Vista Avenue in San Francisco during a weekly morning group ride organized by Fat Cake bike club. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

But the club has become the city's largest group ride - nearly 4,000 members on Strava - thanks to another secret ingredient: its something-for-everyone credo. There's the weekly swarming Twin Peaks run mentioned above; a less crowded ride for female, transgender and non-binary cyclists; and a leg-burning Presidio dash, for certifiably mad cyclists looking to conquer every hill in the national park before sunrise.

Co-founder Raymond Cogan was a fan from his first ride, but became a zealot about a year later after hearing another cyclist putting the popular bike club down.

"(He) kept telling other people, ‘If you don't get your s- together you're going to be stuck riding with Fat Cake your whole life,'" Cogan remembers. "It pissed me off. This is where we should be. I went out of my way to make this as inclusive as possible, as fun as possible and get as many people as possible."

Cyclists navigate around traffic furniture at the entrance to Sunset Dunes Park during a weekly group ride organized by the Fat Cake Club in San Francisco, Thursday, Feb. 12, 2026. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

Like many first-timers, I was hooked by the name. I'm a full-time two-wheel commuter who once biked to work with Giants broadcaster Dave Flemming and takes short rides with my nonagenarian dad. But I'm intimidated by the hard-core bicyclists who make 50-mile work commutes or rip off early morning rides over Mount Tamalpais.

Fat Cake designs bicycle kits in birthday cake colors, and has a racing team called … wait for it … the Super Sprinkles. Surely this pastry-themed bike club would be a good place for me to level up to a more strenuous ride?

"At Fat Cake, we're not too cool for anybody," says Rachel Fenn, a regular since the beginning of the pandemic. "In fact, we're complete dorks. Come join us and have fun, eat pastries and ride your bike."

Reality hits as Chronicle photographer Stephen Lam and I arrive at the San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers for the "Thursday wildcard," the group's most popular ride. After our Twin Peaks climb and fast descent to the southern tip of the city, we'll cruise along Ocean Beach and back through the park to Breadbelly in the Richmond District.

From a distance the group looks powerful and eerie, like a "Mad Max" motorcycle gang ready to storm a citadel at dawn. But the reality is more like walking into the first day of a college poli-sci class. Fenn is giving a route syllabus, safety talk and motivational speech that's heavy on the realities of a ride through the center of San Francisco that ends near morning rush hour.

"Please be kind. If somebody honks at you, just be like, ‘Good morning! I love you!'" Fenn says, drawing laughter. "Try to appreciate that they haven't had their coffee and want to commute to work."

And then we're off. Moving quickly. In the dark.

Cyclists climb Hawk Hill in the Marin Headlands during a pre-dawn Fat Cake group ride. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

As we launch, I'm not used to holding my position in the center of such a big group. Jennifer Cogan, who met her husband Raymond on a Fat Cake ride, seems to sense my discomfort, pulling alongside me and calling out road obstacles ("car up!" "car back!" "clear!") while answering my questions. When a bicyclist right behind me takes a spill on a slow uphill near UCSF Medical Center, my instinct is to dial 911. But he pops back up, laughing and seemingly unbothered, like a Looney Tunes character.

As we ascend the winding north side of Twin Peaks, I quickly fall to the back, hoping no one notices when I walk my bike up the steepest block. But my shame melts a little when I get to the top, and the pack has waited at one of many rallying points. (The group's motto is "dropped but not forgotten" I'm told later.) More importantly, downtown San Francisco looks stunning in the pre-dawn mist.

Despite being about 12 years old, the genesis of Fat Cake has mostly fallen into lore. It started as the "Fat Kids" club, I'm told, with founding riders including Raymond Cogan (who goes by Rayco) and Stephen "Stevo" Chang, a designer who created many of the popular logos and kits. When the group was Instagram-ready they changed the name to Fat Cake.

The branding worked like a beacon.

"That was one of the things that actually drew me to it," says Sarah Han, who in less than three years has accelerated from a first cautious ride with Fat Cake to joining the race team. "It just brings a little bit of levity, right?"

Raymond Cogan explains that most bike groups tend to be skeptical of newcomers. When members drop off from the core cohort, they're less likely to be replaced, the numbers dwindle, and groups die. Fat Cake enforces rules, but also mother ducks newbies like me, responding to most minor etiquette breaches with positive feedback. ("We don't call you out, we call you in," is another motto.)

And then there's the reward. Today's post-ride Breadbelly mixer is special, sponsored by the Bike Law attorney collective, who have dozens of fluffy green kaya bun pastries - milk buns filled with a jam made from coconut milk and pandan leaves - waiting when the group arrives. Bikes lean against an outdoor parklet until the walls are barely visible. Friends old and new chat unencumbered with sugar dusting their mouths.

A worker carries a tray of kaya bun to participants of the Fat Cake Club after a morning group ride around San Francisco, Thursday, Jan. 29, 2026. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

The Cogans have moved to Portland, but returned for Rayco's birthday. My interview with Jennifer is interrupted when the group sings "Happy Birthday." (Yes, someone brought a full cake.)

"I'm really struggling to find a (Portland) group ride that I enjoy the way I enjoy this one, because Fat Cake feels extremely inclusive," Jennifer Cogan says. "If you are competent on the bike, you'll feel welcome."

Emphasis on the word competent. I wasn't used to the speed heading down Twin Peaks and lost the entire group at a red light on Portola Drive. I found my colleague Stephen Lam, a more experienced cyclist, at another rallying spot near the San Francisco Zoo, then fell behind the group again on Sunset Dunes.

When I admit my failure at Breadbelly, Fat Cake board member Pamela Ocampo (who takes photos and writes on the site) talks about finding the right Fat Cake ride. I look at the calendar and a few weeks later I'm pedaling with the Monday FTWNB ride for femme, trans, women and non-binary cyclists, who welcome "allies" on their first ride of the month.

Cyclists enjoy coffee and pastries outside Breadbelly after participating in a group ride around the city with Fat Cake. The bike club's model includes a bakery at the end of every workout. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

Raymond Cogan, co-founder of the Fat Cake Club, left, fist bumps a friend after the club's weekly bakery ride in San Francisco, Thursday, Jan. 29, 2026. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

The group of 15 riders feels less claustrophobic, and I'm able to savor the first half of the route. Bike lights illuminate a new dragon sculpture in the park, and the moon shines above Ocean Beach. I feel a secure pod-of-whales comfort as we pedal, hearing about an obstacle ("Tree down! Tree down!" for a cypress that has fallen into the road) long before I see it.

And I make another new friend, Lisa Charlebois, who trains for endurance rides, including an upcoming 1,400-kilometer (870 miles) journey across the United Kingdom. Charlebois checks in with me as we pass the Lakeshore district then wind a gradual uphill through old and expensive St. Francis Wood.

We ascend Twin Peaks from the less-steep south side, and time the sunrise over downtown perfectly, skyscrapers looking small in the distance. To my left, the top of Sutro Tower is framed by clear blue skies, while a swirl of fog obscures the base.

No one is rushing up this hill. Everyone has a camera out. I've found my speed.

"We're here to take care of each other," Charlebois says. "You can feel it when a group is very self-involved and people are just out to smash a PR. That's when people do dumb things and accidents happen."

Cyclists participating in the monthly Fat Cake Club FTWNB + Allies (femme, trans, women, and non-binary) ride pause to regroup at Twin Peaks in San Francisco. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)

Fat Cake hosts rides Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays, with various side quests popping up on Strava and their Slack channel. Workouts include a challenging weekly Marin Headlands elevation roller coaster and a monthly Donut Alley jaunt to the Larkspur doughnut shop, with multiple routes of varying difficulty. (The hilly "Dirty Donut" is above my abilities, but the "Basic Donut" may be my next ride.) Fat Cake and Super Sprinkles are a nonprofit, but there are no fees or memberships.

Supporting small business is another core Fat Cake tenet, which means giving advance warning to bakeries that a famished horde of up to 125 bicyclists is on the way. Our Monday destination, Flywheel Coffee Roasters in the Haight-Ashbury district, recognizes the group and lets us park our bikes in the back.

I sip a massive latte with Charlebois, Han and a few others, listen to them talk about their lives and variety of biking goals, and am struck by how comfortable I feel.

"It's not about the bike. It's not about what you're wearing. It's not about external stuff," Charlebois explains. "Just participate, and you'll get benefits. I (met) someone the other day who said, ‘It's so hard to make friends as an adult.' And I said, ‘Do you not ride a bike? Because if you did, you'd have a million friends.'"

Cyclists ride on a foggy Twin Peaks during a weekly Fat Cake group ride. (Stephen Lam/S.F. Chronicle)