Let me first identify what I’m not talking about when I say, “I cut my legs.” I didn’t crash. I’ve still got my no-crash streak alive. I haven’t hit the pavement since the late 80s, and this includes some good racing seasons that also included crits. I can’t completely explain why I haven’t crashed, but I think it is more than just good luck. I probably just jinxed myself.
Also, I’m not talking about a nick while shaving. I’ve graduated to year-around shaving, so now I’ve got the process streamlined and cuts are rare.
Here’s what I’m really talking about: After pounding my legs into submission for the last couple years, I’ve recently been noticing a hint of definition. Sometimes a glimpse of these new features shocks me. I need to set up a camera to catch my legs in action sometime, to verify I’m not seeing things. Maybe I’m starting to get those distinctively torn and weathered cycling legs I see at races. A tan definitely isn’t part of that equation, because currently my legs add lots of real estate to “where the sun don’t shine.”
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