It took me a while. 10 months after buying my first road bike to be exact. I was one of them from the other side. Rules don’t matter. Tradition is for old people. Ride your fucking bike. I grew up as a mountain biker. Baggy shorts, knee pads for the downhills. Don’t even clean that thing, its meant to be dirty.
Who tells me to do so anyway. I am not a girl. I am a man. Outdoorsy people don’t do that kinda thing. Why the hell would you. What is it good for. When did it even started. No one knows. Not even Google.
Then I did it. In the bathroom. All my myself. I had a beer while doing it. Just felt like the right thing to do. Having a beer I mean. To this day I have no idea why I did it. No one asked me to. No one told me to. I felt it. I felt that if I do this now I would feel more complete. Like being part of something great. My entry to the club. It felt great. It was like something happened that was meant to be. So smooth. Going to bed that night I felt the sheets more than ever before. It was a strange sensation that I enjoyed to the chore. I couldn’t wait for the morning to come. And how good it was. Getting dressed I felt goosebumps all over my body. The best thing ever. I couldn’t stop smiling anticipating what was to come. It was a summer’s day. Sunny and beautiful. The ride took me to our local round. It felt better than ever before. Looking down at my legs, tanned, toned, I could see every muscle doing it’s job beautifully. My bib shorts looked right the first time ever. They felt like we belonged.
I will never stop doing it. I love everything about it. I am not ashamed. I am proud. Everything else just looks wrong now. Shaving my legs has made me who I want to be.