The age-old question for cyclists, "Do I have to shave my bum?" – or more precisely, how high should those leg hairs go? It’s a topic that sparks more debate than the best tire pressure, and frankly, I find the whole ritual utterly fascinating. While some pros might tout aerodynamic benefits or easier road rash healing, and others might seek the meditative calm of a post-ride massage without the prickly interference, for most of us, it’s a deeply ingrained cultural practice. It’s that unspoken signal that says, "Yes, I am a serious cyclist," and there's absolutely nothing wrong with embracing that identity.
The Great Divide: Where Do You Stop?
But the real conundrum isn't if you shave, but how high you go. This is where the cycling world truly splinters. Personally, I think the idea of an "imaginary line" dictated by the rise of your bib shorts, as suggested by former pro Dan Craven, is a stroke of pragmatic genius. His reasoning – to avoid a hairy patch of road rash in a very visible spot after a tumble – makes perfect sense. It’s about minimizing the post-crash drama, not about achieving some mythical aesthetic. However, Craven himself admits he wasn't the hairiest rider, which, in my opinion, opens the door for those with more robust leg foliage.
Embracing the Full Monty (or Not)
Tech editors and enthusiasts alike seem to lean towards a more comprehensive approach. Ashley Quinlan, for instance, mentions shaving up to the underwear line when going full pro, a sentiment echoed by Simon von Bromley, who can't fathom the idea of "hair shorts." This desire for a seamless, hair-free expanse from ankle to hip is, in my view, a testament to the aesthetic ideals that have permeated cycling culture. It’s about presenting a unified, smooth surface, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of the sport itself. Von Bromley even raises the truly existential question of whether the bum itself requires attention – a philosophical rabbit hole I'm almost too afraid to explore!
The Seasonal Shift and Unconventional Wisdom
Then there are those who approach shaving with a more fluid, seasonal strategy. Meg Dickerson’s approach, shaving lower legs year-round but going full monty in summer, strikes me as incredibly sensible. It acknowledges the practicalities of summer cycling – shorts, beaches, and general exposure – while maintaining a degree of ease during cooler months. Alice Stockwell’s "Selma Bouvier" method, focusing on where her coarsest hair grows, is wonderfully unconventional. It’s a reminder that personal comfort and unique hair patterns often trump any prescribed norm. What this tells me is that the "rules" of shaving are far more personal and less rigid than we often assume.
The Quest for Time and the Epilation Revelation
Claire Sharpe’s journey from enthusiastic full-leg shaver to an epilation convert is, to me, the most compelling part of this discussion. Her realization that she'd "wasted enough of my life" on shaving is a sentiment many can likely relate to. The shift to epilation, which gives her "even more time back," is a revelation. It highlights how much time and effort we can dedicate to seemingly minor grooming rituals. I can only imagine the initial shock and eventual liberation of embracing epilation – a true game-changer for those who value their time and sanity. It makes me wonder what other cycling "traditions" we cling to out of habit rather than genuine necessity.
Ultimately, the question of how high cyclists should shave their legs isn't about a single right answer. It's a reflection of personal preference, practicality, cultural norms, and the ever-evolving relationship we have with our own bodies and the sport we love. What truly matters is finding what works for you, whether that's a precise line dictated by your bib shorts, a full commitment to smoothness, or a seasonal adjustment. And if shaving your bum is part of that equation? Well, that’s a conversation for another time, perhaps over a very strong coffee.
