The proclamation is heard in the office, on social media, at the bar with friends; “It’s leg day.” When someone utters “it’s leg day” the accompanying tone of resentment and even dread is usually followed by an audible “ugh”. This exasperation belies one fact, the person making the utterance is not a cyclist. It’s likely they are a part of the Crossfit cult or on a fitness regimen to tone up and look good in a swimsuit. My immediate thought is, no shit it’s leg day, isn’t every day leg day?
As Cyclists, we cultivate our legs ritualistically. They provide the power that propels us deep into the pain cave, to freedom and to exaltation. Sure, we can talk about building the engine that is our heart and lungs. We do intervals, hill repeats, and sprints to increase aerobic capacity but the act of pushing on our pedals is what makes us move. It is our guns and our guns only that provide the visual evidence of our deposits into the V-Bank. The following is a simple list of acts the Velominati partake in that demonstrate that Every Day is Leg Day:
The Pros go to great lengths in not using their legs to power anything but their bicycles. Coppi used to have his soigneur carry him up flights of stairs to the hotel room. Hincapie would make sure his phone, remote, and other personal needs were at arms’ length on Recovery Days so he wouldn’t have to get off the couch. I wonder if he looked for apartments in Gerona with the toilet in the living room.
Of course most of us are endomorphs who look to be prepubescent boys with bald legs, baby smooth faces, and farmer’s tans. But our legs, our legs are bronzed and chiseled works of effort that would inspire Michelangelo and be worthy of any swimsuit edition (as long as it focuses on the waist down). So regardless of our buggy-whip arms and pencil-necks, let’s celebrate. The next time you hear someone bemoan their own personal leg day hell, remember that for you as well it is leg day. Take pride in the fact that you are a Velominatus and that for you, Every Day is Leg Day. Because on that day, regardless of the day of the week or where on your training calendar it lands, you have done something to honor your pins.
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I remember the first time shaving the guns: hacking away, blood trickling down my legs. They looked like raw chicken. (Remember, this was Scotland around 1980 - not much sun to get tan lines). Parents were horrified. "But everyone else does it!" I protested. Eventually they just gave up on trying to persuade me otherwise. First pair of black lycra skin tights didn't go down too well either. We compromised on that: on the bike = ok, around the house = no.
The thought of having fully hairy legs appalls me to this day.
@Chris
Shit I forgot about the withholding notice! Ignore all my advice, tread very carefully as @Chris advises. Time spent figuring what will really really make her happy will be time not spent defending yourself or begging to be allowed in the bed again!
@KW
Unannounced your legs were shaved while participating (you were selected) in a science study (specifically chosen) that measured the adverse effects of shagginess within a road cycling (followed by beer) environment. The attending lab nurse (oh hell) of the study prepared you (shaved you) and monitored your results -- perfect!
@unversio If I announced that someone else had shaved my legs, I'd be facing much worse than a Withholding Notice.
I forgot to mention that Mrs. KW is currently pregnant with our first Velominipper, which lends another level of peril to the situation. Given her feelings about the chest hair (loves it) and the goatee (don't you dare shave it), I shudder to think of her reaction to possible leg baldness.
On the bright side, I am fortunate not to be carrying a shag carpet on the guns. It is light both in density and color. From a distance, you might not even see it. If you're on my wheel you might notice it, but you'd have to catch my wheel first.
@KW Are you man or mouse... do it and then if she has a problem with it tell her they're YOUR legs and to stop objectifying you.
Apparently some preversions of Chris and Mrs Chris make his furry lower limbs an integral part of their marital relations. That's between them and their webcam friends.
But unless you and your VMH share a mutual fantasy involving Chewbacca role play then I don't see where your hairy gams come into it.
Speaking as a man who has persuaded his Mrs to go on a Cogal for our 20th wedding anniversary I claim expert judgement in these matters.
@KW nothing to lose, everything to gain.
@KW don't ask permission. They're your legs, it's your hobby. If you want to grow a beard, shave your legs, shave a Mohawk in, just fuggin' do it.
@KW By all means heed @ChrisO's advice and take the uncompromising route but bear in mind that he's been banished to a distant desert land so he is in effect subject to a fairly permanent Withholding Notice (hence the fact that he now keeps his bike in his bed).
@ChrisO
Apparently some preversions of Chris and Mrs Chris make his furry lower limbs an integral part of their marital relations. That's between them and their webcam friends.
You mean GCHQ and the NSA, right?