Why Do Cyclists Shave Their Legs? (Warning: Disturbing Images)

08.8.2005 | 2:56 pm

One nice thing about writing a blog called "Fat Cyclist" is you no longer have to worry about losing your dignity. Since you’ve kissed it goodbye as part of the blog’s premise, you’re free to do just about anything without worrying about embarassing yourself.
 
And so it is without hesitation that today I answer the question, "Why do cyclists shave their legs?" with "before" and "after" photographs. I suppose I could have also posted "during" photographs, but then I might have gotten comments to this post from distraught readers who had gouged out their eyes in an attempt to get the horrible, horrible vision out of their heads.
 
I think I made the right decision.
 
OK, So Why Do Cyclists Shave Their Legs, Then?
Well, there are several reasons most cyclists will give you. They will say that it makes them more aerodynamic, which would be a good reason…if it were true.
 
They will say they do it because it makes it easier to clean road rash out of their legs. To which I answer, if you’re so confident you’re going to be crashing, maybe you need to look into a different sport. Like chess, for example.
 
They will say they shave their legs because of tradition. This reason actually does have merit, but it’s tantamount to proclaiming that you’re a lemming.
 
There are two  — and only two — real reasons cyclists shave their legs:
  • Vanity: You’ve worked hard to get the legs you’ve got. Why hide them under a mat of hair?
  • To impress other cyclists: Once you’re on the bike, there’s not much you can do to hide whether you’re the alpha rider or a domestique. But at least while you’re hanging out at the bike shop, shaved legs say, "I’ve joined the club; I’m a serious cyclist. I am so confident of my manliness that I can wear a bright jersey, tight lycra shorts, and have shaved legs without feeling ridiculous in public."
You see, when you shave, the hair that hides your muscle definition is gone, making it easier for you to admire those quads in the mirror, and for other cyclists to admire your calves on the bike. And since you’ve worked so hard  to get those muscles, you feel it’s your right to show them off in all their glory.
 
Here. I’ll show you what I mean.
 
Before
Here I am before shaving. If you look hard, you can see a hint of some quads, but mostly you just see big stumpy legs.  
 
 
 
Clippers Time.
As you can see, I’ve got hair-o-plenty (except on the top of my head, where the hair’s becoming increasingly scarce). Before I could shave, I needed to mow down the tall grass with the electric clippers. What surprised me was the sheer volume of hair I had on my legs. I swear, the below picture is just of the clippings of my legs, not of a shorn llama.
 
 
After
It’s been some time since I regularly shaved my legs. During my hairy period, I seem to have forgotten how much time it takes. Even more, I had forgotten how much agility it takes to reach around and shave the back of your knees — all while fearing that you are about to hit a major artery.
 
Believe me, most middle age men do not want to be discovered dead in the shower with their legs half-shaved.
 
So — and I can say this only because I am the dignity-free Fat Cyclist — I asked my wife for help. She rolled her eyes, locked the bathroom door (this was definitely something I did not want the kids to see), and got to work. Two Mach 3 razor cartridges later, I was as smooth as can be.
 
You may be asking yourself right now, "So how high do cyclists shave themselves?" Or you may be really resenting that I articulated that question, because you had successfully avoided bringing that image to mind up to that point. Regardless, you shouldn’t look for an answer to that question here. If there’s consensus in the cycling world on where the "Do not cross this line" point is, I don’t know what it is. As for me, let me just say that I’d look verrrrry ridiculous in a Speedo right now.
 
OK, on to the "After" photo:
 
 
Well, whaddaya know. The Fat Cyclist actually had some big ol’ quads underneath all that hair. Though they still — alas — lack definition. And who do I gotta bribe to get some calf muscles?
 
And What About After?
The thing about shaving your legs is, it’s not just a one-time deal. You’ve made a commitment. Because once the hair starts growing back (about 4 hours, in my case), you’ve got to shave again — because male stubble is abrasive enough to scratch the paint right off a car.
 
So how long will this last? I dunno. Through the Leadville 100, at least. Gotta impress the fans.
 
Today’s weight: 166.0

Comments (15)

 

Technically, I am now the “Pudgy Cyclist”

08.5.2005 | 3:25 pm

According to the Department of Health and Human Services, My Body Mass Index is now 24.9, moving me out of the overweight category into the very fattest edge of normal.
 
But please. As long as I can casually grab a double fistful of my own soft stomach and jiggle it like a bag of pudding (a strange-sounding but accurately descriptive simile, I assure you), just call me the Fat Cyclist.
 
And in fact, when (if) I ever get back into the low 150’s, well, I’ll still be fat inside.
 
No Money For You, Bub.
Today was the last Fat Cyclist Sweepstakes weigh-in for a few weeks, since next week I’ll be racing in Leadville. Then, for the next week or two after that, my weight’s bound to go up as I pig out endlessly in my post-race Consume Mass Quantities mode. I hereby decree: No diet for a week after the Leadville 100. Let the 2005 Burrito Fest begin!
 
After that, though, I’ll wipe my mouth off, reset my goals, and get to work on the business of becoming a fast, light climber for next season.
 
It’s as good a way to celebrate a midlife crisis as any, I suppose.
 
Today’s weight: 163.8

Comments (4)

Endurance Race Resolutions

08.4.2005 | 6:51 pm

How many endurance mountain bike races have I done now? 12? 15? Something like that. And so you’d think that I’d be smart about endurance racing. But I’m not. I’m stupid. Dumb as a bar of soap, really. Every time I make the same stupid mistakes. This year at Leadville, though, will be different. This year I will be smart. Here’s my plan.

1. I will not use my middle ring on St. Kevins. Every year I’m feeling all psyched for the first big climb of the race. The combination of excitement, anxiety, impatience and adrenaline always send me rocketing up in my middle ring on St. Kevins, blasting past dozens of riders — and setting myself up to pay the price 40 miles later, when I really need the juice. This year, I will use a low gear and high cadence, even though I know I won’t want to.

2. I will not keep my eyes only 10 feet ahead of me coming down Sugarloaf. I’m always so busy looking at the erosion ruts right in front of me on this sandy, technical downhill that I don’t pick out the good line. I’m constantly reacting and gettsqueezed off to one side of the road or other, then having to dismount and hop over a big rut. This year, I’ll take the long view, look ahead, and ride it nice and easy.

3. I will not solo the Fish Hatchery to Twin Lakes Dam section, in either direction. This is the only relatively flat section (15 miles or so) of the race, and you ride it twice. It’s the perfect time to work together with a group, but I never do. With hundreds of riders on the course, there’s got to be someone going my speed. If not, I will slow down for a few seconds and pick someone up, or briefly pick up my pace and join a train. It’s silly that I never work with anyone on this race.

4. I will not avoid looking at my watch during the Columbine section. Every year, I watch the clock obsessively until I’m about halfway up the nastiest climb of all. I’m always afraid to look at my watch as I climb Columbine, figuring I’m much slower than I had hoped to be and not wanting to be further demoralized. Then, by the time I get to the top of the climb — the turnaround point of the race — I’ve got one big disappointment in store for me. This year, I’ll keep tabs on my time and make adjustments to my effort as necessary. I’ll probably still miss my time goals, but I’ll at least know when it happened.

5. I will never say to myself, "I have no business doing this kind of race." This is the wrong time to analyze what I should and shouldn’t be doing. This is the time for me to ride my brains out. Oh, who am I kidding. Of course I’ll say "I have no business doing this kind of race," among other things. If I’m not suffering, what’s even the point of being there?

6. I will not let the Powerline climb break me. 77 (or so) miles into the race, there’s a nasty stretch of steep climbing called the Powerline. It’s sandy and rutted, and more than once I’ve mentally admitted defeat and backed my effort way off. This time, I’ll hike where I have to, but I won’t whine. I’ll keep moving, and I’ll get on my bike whenever it’s possible.

7. I will not leave the finish line area until after 7pm. The most exciting, dramatic, heroic finishes come at around the 12 and 13 hour marks. I will stick around and cheer for everyone, even thoughpart (most? all?) of me wants to go lay down. OK, maybe I’ll go change clothes quickly, but then I’m coming right back.

Bonus Excitement #1. I have managed to borrow a top-of-the line Sugar for the race. Thanks, Wyatt!

 
Bonus Excitement #2. Cyclingnews.com likes my story idea from yesterday; I’ll be shopping for a digital recorder tomorrow evening.
 
Today’s Weight: 164.8

Comments (6)

I’d Like to Ask You a Few Questions

08.3.2005 | 8:22 pm

One week from today, I’ll be packing my gear up for the Leadville 100. From this point until I write my race report, you’ll have to forgive me if I obsess about this race to a degree you would have heretofore thought impossible.
 
Biking in to work today, I was thinking about one of the things I always enjoy about riding the Leadville 100: talking with other racers before, during, and after the race. People come from all over to do the race. They’ve got different and interesting reasons for doing it. They’ve got incredibly diverse goals for when — or often, for whether — they’ll finish. Many of them have big concerns about some of the obstacles.
 
And that’s when I had the idea of bringing a little digital recorder along for the race. At the start line, during the race, and at the finish line, hand different people the recorder and ask:
  • What’s your name and where are you from?
  • Why did you sign up to do this race?
  • What was your goal for this race before you started?
  • Now that you’re racing, do you think you’ll reach that goal? If not, what has your goal changed to and why?
  • What’s the hardest thing about this race?

It’d be interesting to see how answers change as I get later into the race and people are at different stages in the racer’s mood cycle. And then, when I get back, write up these mini-stories. Abracadabra — a composite profile of endurance cyclists.

Good idea or dumb? If, during a race, would you resent someone handing you a recorder and asking you a bunch of personal questions?

 

One Little Problem

I can envision one potentially fatal flaw in my idea right off the bat: my own attitude. As the day goes on, there will be times when I’m unlikely to want to talk to anyone about anything. So, at some of the most important stretches of the race, I’d be likely to go completely dark, or — worse — possibly throw the recorder into the bushes as an expression of my disdain for the race, myself, other riders, and the world in general. Hey, I can get like that.

Anyone got a digital recorder they don’t mind lending me? I promise to sweat all over it and get it real dirty.

 

Today’s Weight: 165.6

Comments (6)

Riding in the Drops

08.2.2005 | 7:00 pm

When making a major life-affecting decision like where to have your house, there are a huge number of factors a smart person considers, probably. I say "probably" because I am not a smart person. When we bought our house, we considered the following:
  • We should be able to make the house payments
  • We liked all the trees
  • We liked that our neighborhood isn’t on the way to anywhere else — local traffic only
  • We liked the nature trails in the neighborhood
  • Um, that’s about it

And so I cannot claim any foresight or genius planning on my part for the fact that my neighborhood is right at the mouth of a portal to what I am discovering is a road cyclist’s paradise. Redmond Way / Hwy 202 connects me up to one great ride after another, and I get the feeling that I’ve only scratched the surface.

Why the enthusiasm? Well, I got up this morning and went on an early ride. I cruised along farmland, through mossy evergreen forests, up a couple challenging hills (my personal trainer is still insisting I seek out hills — idiot), past the Carnation city golf course. It’s a beautiful ride on great road surface, with very little traffic (at least at 6:00AM). Nice.

One thing I noticed while riding the RAMROD last week is that I’m — finally! — comfortable riding in the drops (ie, holding the lowest part of my handlebars) again. My legs don’t squish against my stomach — at least, not very much — and the lower position helps me be a little more aerodynamic. Well, I feel more aerodynamic anyway.

There’s just one problem, though. When you ride in the drops, you are heads-down. You are pretty much committed to looking at the road and not much else. And that’s a shame, when you’re riding such a scenic route.

Still, I was happily spinning along my route this morning — riding in the drops – when I got to the Carnation Marsh. There, I sat up for a moment, stretched, and looked around.

And that’s when I saw the bald eagle, sitting in its nest. Sitting atop a large dead tree, the nest looks like it’s about 5-6 feet in diameter.

I pulled over, grabbed my phone — with its cheesy little camera — and tried to get a shot. By the time I did, the eagle had taken off, but you can — just barely – see the nest. It’s right in the middle of the photo, and looks like a really bad shot of the space needle.

I’m sure thousands of people have seen this nest — and thank you, Audobon Society of Seattle, for maintaining the Carnation Marsh so beautifully, by the way — but it was a first for me, and I was fairly amazed. I watched the eagle fly ’til I lost sight of it, then looked at the nest again for a minute — it’s incredible how big it is — and then I got back on my bike and finished the ride.

So, note to self: riding in the drops is cool, but if you don’t sit up and look around once in a while, you’re missing a big part of what makes cycling great.

Today’s weight: 166.2

Comments (4)

« Previous Page — « Previous Entries     Next Entries » — Next Page »