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

08.8.2005 | 9:40 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. 

hairylegs

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.

hair

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:

shavedlegs

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.

 

How to Be a Middle-Aged Cyclist

08.8.2005 | 3:10 pm

Watching the Tour de France, you might reasonably come to the conclusion that all cyclists are dangerously thin, in their early 20’s to early 30’s, and can ride their bikes for up to three weeks without a rest.

The reality is a little different. Most of us are middle-aged. Most of us need to lose weight. If you want to become a bike enthusiast, you may as well learn how to be middle-aged, too, or at least act that way. Here are some helpful tips you can use:

  • Wear a long, loose-fitting jersey. A long, loose-fitting jersey will hide both your behind and your belly. This will make it impossible for others to recognize the fact that you are overweight. Because you are the only person who has ever thought of wearing loose clothes to camouflage extra weight.
  • Spare no expense in making your bike light. If you can find a way to reduce the weight of your bike by 20 grams, it’s worth the cost. Period. And don’t think about the fact that dropping 10 pounds from yourself would be much safer and less costly. That’s not relevant.
  • Get a triple chainring on your roadbike. It’s not because you don’t have power in your legs, it’s because you want to spin a higher cadence up the hills.
  • Obsess endlessly about equipment and technique. These are the keys to going faster. Those who would say that riding with more power simply don’t understand the complexities of riding.
  • Buy a helmet without many vents. If they can’t see through your helmet, they can’t see your male-pattern baldness, can they?
  • Learn the fine art of anti-trash-talk. Describe your potential ailments at the beginning of each ride. Be careful not to be too concrete about what’s wrong, because it’s always possible you’ll have a good day and won’t need to refer back to your pre-ride excuse.
    • Yes: “We’ll have to see how long I can ride; I’m still recovering from a cold.”
    • No: “I may have to break off early; I had a lung removed earlier this week.”
  • Corollary to anti-trash-talk rule: All ailments are things that have happened to you, not things you have done to yourself. For example:
    • Yes: “My tendonitis is acting up.”
    • No: “I failed to stretch and am paying for it now.”
  • Start riding your road bike more, and your mountain bike less. Explain that this is because you like the rhythm of the road, or because it builds your fitness better. Do not acknowledge that you feel completely pounded after mountain bike riding, and are afraid you’ll break your hip if you fall.
  • Stop shaving your legs. Describe it as a “silly custom, and I’ve got better things to do with my time.” Under no circumstances admit that you can no longer reach down to your ankles, nor that shaving your legs underscores the fact that you have varicose veins.
  • Let everyone know that “I’m just taking it easy today.” All cyclists know that some days are for going out hard, some days are for resting. When you ride with someone else, tell them you’re just resting. Then ride at 80%. If the group still drops you, well…you were just resting. If you manage to hang with the group, then you’re a strong rider even when you’re resting. And – trust me on this – nobody else has ever used this excuse, so everyone will believe you.
  • Dispense advice to younger riders. Tell them their seat is too far back. Tell them they’re pedaling squares. Tell them they need to ride with their hands in the drops. Tell them to stop accelerating during their turn leading the group. Kids love to be taught, and never get tired of hearing your wisdom. Really, it’s the main reason they ride at all.

Finally, I’d like to point out that I have discovered these tips purely by observing other cyclists. None of these apply to me. Nope. Not even one.

I have to go now.

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

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

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

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