Working legs. Photo: Tim Koln
Kids are assholes. Kids are also sensitive and vulnerable, and the two extremes are usually not found together in the one vessel. When you’re a kid, or more specifically a young teenager, being skinny (or conversely, overweight) can be somewhat testing for a developing brain. Processing jibes and deflecting taunts from meatheads and low-rent bullies brandishing such cerebral gems as ‘stick legs’ and ‘bones’ becomes a daily exercise in futility, eventually recognised for being exactly that once maturity takes hold (and school days disappear in the rear-view mirror), thereby flushing (some of) the human detritus from your life. Heck, I wasn’t even a Cyclist during my high school years (but I rode the shit out of bikes every day), which possibly saved me from more targeted and specific lines of insults which the only ‘real’ Cyclist at the school, Alan Masson, would regularly encounter. Even I thought he was a bit of a freak, his tall, lean frame and shaved pins standing out like dog’s balls among the squat, hairy, scarred stumps of the footy crowd as they hunted in packs for their seemingly weaker victims. Little did they really know the skinny freaks would have the last laugh.
Even after joining the strange sub-culture on two wheels, acceptance didn’t come easily. Not from anyone else, but from myself. I was among fellow skinny-legged freaks, a collective of popping veins and nobbly knees, yet pulling on a thin layer of black and pink Lycra (the choices were limited and largely fluoro in the early 90s) still didn’t seem like the best way to fade into the background or go about my business quietly. Luckily, as I was exclusively a mountain biker then, the advent of baggy shorts saved the day not just for me, but every dirt rider who wasn’t an XC racer. The pins were becoming more toned by now, and shaving came onto my radar when I bought my first proper road bike shortly after. That’s when I noticed what I thought made me even more of a freak; my left leg seemed to be bigger than the right. At least, more toned.
One-legged pedalling drills followed, in an attempt to even things up. Calf raises, leg extensions, squats, whatever I did would only serve to keep things uneven, while still barely increasing musculature in both legs. I decided to check out other Cyclists for the same affliction. (Now, to be clear, this is not a massive discrepancy that has small children crying and running away.) I was heartened to find that Single Gun Theory wasn’t just a great Australian 90s electronic/trip hop outfit, but a common occurrence in a good number of Cyclists. Similar to some tennis players having a more developed racquet arm, and golfers an over-developed belief that what they do is ‘sport’, most of us will favour one side of our body for undertaking most common tasks, sometimes alternating different sides for varied exercises. My right arm is stronger and bigger than my left, yet the left gun is the boss downstairs. And I can’t explain it.
It could be any number of physical things that causes SGT, but I’m not too worried, as long as both guns fire, whether one’s an AK47 and the other a starter pistol, it matters not. If the worst that can happen is singing Zappa songs when I’m riding, I’ll take it.
“One of my legs is shorter than the other
‘N’ both my feet’s too long
‘Course now right along with ’em
I got no natural rhythm.”
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Folks, just to be clear on golf, I love the game. Its a great sport. No doubt. 30 lbs ago I was single digit hc and winning local tourneys. Its a whole different ball game from cycling for sure. There is no suffering involved. Make no mistake about that. But there is a dedication necessary to achieve success. And from that perspective it is a sport I suppose. I really dig the opportunity to play at super cool courses no different than I wanna ride my bike on great roads. I have far more luck finding business opportunities available playing golf than I do riding bikes that's for sure. BTW: so USAC is wanting to focus on "doping" in amateur and masters cycling with their 2016 initiative and license surcharge for testing? Guaranteed it's nothing compared to similar circumstances in golf. Oh, and more to the point, I have one foot bigger than the other, does that count? cheers all
@wilburrox
>>> no suffering involved <<< except when Tiger won 08 US Open at Torrey Pines with a broken leg. No, no chance anyone rubbed any special cream or whatev on his leg at that time ??? Still, it was an incredible performance. There was a time also when Ken Venturi won a US Open back in '64 that is considered an ex of considerable suffering. I'm not gonna suggest it amounts to what competitors deal with in a grand tour. But it's a big deal amongst golfers.
@Brendan O’Donoghue
Agree about asymmetry. Slight imperfections seem to help my brain assess the overall form (see Cindy Crawford's mole).
And Brett, that first paragraph is so .. sharp. I hope it took you a month to write, because it's so beautifully written.
@Ron
Or worse, perhaps the punk will develop mental capacity to regret their statements. Regret is more painful than a beating.
@tedder
Ha! If only I had a month to write an article! I'm afraid most of my stuff is written in a last-minute freakout and usually without any tangible direction. I'm always amazed when someone likes it...
@Puffy
No, you'd better keep them coming, I hear ya!
When I saw that picture of the 3 pairs of mortars standing next to each other, I was thinking that pic must have been taken from weightlifters. However, I checked their names and found a French article about that very picture, which features the epic sentence: Le keirin, sprint en peloton de six coureurs, est une affaire de "grosses cuisses" or "The keirin, sprint squad of six riders, is a matter of "big thighs". Now all we need to do is ask Google Translate to convert the French word "cuisses" into "guns" as from now on.
@KogaLover
they're not cyclists, they're bodybuilders who occasionally ride a bike
@KogaLover
I think Sir Chris Hoy might disagree with you on that point.
@wilburrox
No suffering involved?!?!?!?!? You've ripped a drive down the middle. 150 yards left to the pin. You pick up a 7 iron, your trusty 7 iron. You visualise the shot you're about to play, no wind. And shank it, a grub shot, 30 yards right into rough.
No suffering?!?!?