I shaved my legs for the first time the other day. Cyclists do that. I don’t know why. I don’t think they know why.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t come up with a good reason to do it. But I couldn’t come up with a good reason not to. Hell, at 66, I’m too close to the end of the road only to reach it and say, “I cycled for 50 years and never shaved my legs.”<\/p>\n
The reasons all have a patina of truth.<\/p>\n
It makes massages easier. For who? My masseuse said it makes no difference to her.<\/p>\n
It makes road rash easier to treat and promotes healing. I can see the point. No sticky hair to gum things up. But whereas pro racers crash, suffer massive strawberries and then get up and immediately ride another 80 miles, I crash and break several old, brittle bones. I’m laid up so long the strawberries are long gone before I get back on the bike.<\/p>\n
The ladies like shaved legs. At my age, there are no ladies left, only broads, and they take anything that’s still walking at 66. They don’t care whether the guy’s walker is hairy or not.<\/p>\n
Others say, it’s just tradition and you’re not taken seriously unless you shave. That’s attractive to me, since no one now takes me seriously.<\/p>\n
But the best reason is that shaved legs make you faster by reducing aerodynamic drag. Are you kidding me? Losing the extra 20 pounds I’m dragging around would be far more effective for me.<\/p>\n
But Specialized engineers beg to differ<\/a>. Over 40 kilometers, one of their subjects saved 82 seconds. That’s huge for a racer. For me, not so much. My riding buddies’ coffee will still be cold by the time I make it back to our sidewalk cafe.<\/p>\n But hey, makes you faster is good enough for me. I’m sticking to that story–unless my wife vetoes it. But then, why does she shave her legs?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I shaved my legs for the first time the other day. Cyclists do that. I don’t know why. I don’t think they know why. I couldn’t come up with a good reason to do it. But I couldn’t come up with a good reason not to. Hell, at 66, I’m too close to the end… Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[50,1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1857"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1857"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1857\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1858,"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1857\/revisions\/1858"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1857"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1857"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/griendling.com\/wordpress1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1857"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}