Goodbye Chamois! ...........Hopefully. Maybe?
I already know pretty much what you're going to say Sam, but hear me out. I reject chamois. It is squishy and wet and full of bacteria. I will attempt to live without it.
For those of you who don't know what a chamois is, its that large butt pad spandex clad riders wear.
The conventional wisdom says the chamois provides cushioning to your perineal area that a saddle cannot while preventing chafing and wicking away sweat.
Why do I hate them? Well, in short, they've robbed the joy of cycling from me! In long: I started cycling in high school. I went to a boarding high school (it was public!) and had no car. The only way for me to get around was on two wheels. When I bought my first bike, I was free. I could go where I wanted when I wanted.
Over time, I wanted to ride longer, faster. This led me to get more into the sport of cycling; buying special shoes, eating weird gels, using special tires. Soon after, I went to UNC and got in racing. I raced all kinds of disciplines as I mentioned earlier.
I loved it. For a while. Then the culture started to grate on me. You had to line up your sleeves so you got a perfect tanline, your gloves and helmet had to match your outfit, your neck had to be bent at a 90 degree angle for aerodynamics, your handlebar tape had to be wrapped just right. I played along for a while but couldn't keep up. That stuff's expensive! What happens if you don't follow the rules? 40 year old men will make fun of you on the start line. Seriously.
I realized the machismo and materialism didn't make me happy so I quit. Fine, I let the system get me down, but we have to be the stewards of our own happiness. Ask yourself: Does it bring you joy?
I continued to ride my bike for a while, but every time I thought of going for a longer ride and the rigmarole of putting the whole uncomfortable getup on, tuning the bike, and the no-fun ride through town to get to the good roads, I just didn't go. I started running instead.
All this to say, the chamois has become a symbol for me of the toxic environment of competitive cycling, of the feelings I had when grown-ass men ridiculed me for not having the money they did. It'd be nice if we were all tougher than that, but we aren't always as strong as we'd like to be. I don't deny chamois can help, but if I can free myself of it, why not try?
Below are my reasons why I might be able to ditch the chamois:
1) Buns of Steel - Would you be surprised if I told you I've never had a blister? Not even from hiking from Maine to Georgia. Would you be more surprised if I told you I never had a saddle sore? Not even riding 30-40 hours a week. I've got some tough skin. Sensitive and itchy, but tough. Combine this with a more upright bicycle position and a squishier saddle and it might work.
2) Comfort - Cycling shorts are uncomfortable. "Well you don't have good ones then." I do. We had a deal with a good supplier when I was in college who made our uniforms. I've had the shorts, the bibs (the ones with suspenders), I've had the expensive gel chamois, I've had the expensive synthetic chamois. I never liked any of them. You either got a wedgie, they were too thin, they fell off in the back (plumber crack, yay!), or they strangled your legs. I don't feel like dropping another $100 to see if another pair will work.
3) Hygeine - So, as I mentioned, one of the chamois crowd's claims is that they wick sweat away from your body. This keeps you dry and pulls bacteria with it. Fine. Once it gets soaked though, there's nowhere for all that sweat and bacteria to go. So just clean them! Well, we won't have great access to washing machines. Also, after riding, you're supposed to take them off because you've created a warm, dark, moist bacteria environment. We're going to be riding 12 hours a day. If I can pass on a bacteria diaper, I'll try.
4-Social Barrier. Ever been at a coffee shop and some middle-aged, overweight man is walking around with clacky shoes and skin tight spandex? The chamois is this man's excuse! Cycling outfits can draw a line between normally dressed people and people who fluoresce with neon clothing and racing stripes. I want to ride into town and get a beer without announcing to the world I ride a bike. Will they still know though? Probably. Will they talk to me anyway? Probably. Emma will be there.
This is an experiment. The chamois didn't exist until the early 40s. That means almost four decades of the Tour de France without it! I'm not a stubborn, unchanging person (right?). If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. And don't worry, I'll have one on hand if needed.
So Sam, prepare your 'I told you so.' You're probably going to need it, but I hope you wont.
For those of you who don't know what a chamois is, its that large butt pad spandex clad riders wear.
The conventional wisdom says the chamois provides cushioning to your perineal area that a saddle cannot while preventing chafing and wicking away sweat.
 |
| Ooooooo yay! |
Why do I hate them? Well, in short, they've robbed the joy of cycling from me! In long: I started cycling in high school. I went to a boarding high school (it was public!) and had no car. The only way for me to get around was on two wheels. When I bought my first bike, I was free. I could go where I wanted when I wanted.
Over time, I wanted to ride longer, faster. This led me to get more into the sport of cycling; buying special shoes, eating weird gels, using special tires. Soon after, I went to UNC and got in racing. I raced all kinds of disciplines as I mentioned earlier.
 |
| I designed all the uniforms! |
I loved it. For a while. Then the culture started to grate on me. You had to line up your sleeves so you got a perfect tanline, your gloves and helmet had to match your outfit, your neck had to be bent at a 90 degree angle for aerodynamics, your handlebar tape had to be wrapped just right. I played along for a while but couldn't keep up. That stuff's expensive! What happens if you don't follow the rules? 40 year old men will make fun of you on the start line. Seriously.
 |
| A pro cyclist's legs aka what you get for following all the rules. |
I realized the machismo and materialism didn't make me happy so I quit. Fine, I let the system get me down, but we have to be the stewards of our own happiness. Ask yourself: Does it bring you joy?
 |
| Thanks Emily. |
I continued to ride my bike for a while, but every time I thought of going for a longer ride and the rigmarole of putting the whole uncomfortable getup on, tuning the bike, and the no-fun ride through town to get to the good roads, I just didn't go. I started running instead.
All this to say, the chamois has become a symbol for me of the toxic environment of competitive cycling, of the feelings I had when grown-ass men ridiculed me for not having the money they did. It'd be nice if we were all tougher than that, but we aren't always as strong as we'd like to be. I don't deny chamois can help, but if I can free myself of it, why not try?
Below are my reasons why I might be able to ditch the chamois:
1) Buns of Steel - Would you be surprised if I told you I've never had a blister? Not even from hiking from Maine to Georgia. Would you be more surprised if I told you I never had a saddle sore? Not even riding 30-40 hours a week. I've got some tough skin. Sensitive and itchy, but tough. Combine this with a more upright bicycle position and a squishier saddle and it might work.
 |
| T shirt here. |
2) Comfort - Cycling shorts are uncomfortable. "Well you don't have good ones then." I do. We had a deal with a good supplier when I was in college who made our uniforms. I've had the shorts, the bibs (the ones with suspenders), I've had the expensive gel chamois, I've had the expensive synthetic chamois. I never liked any of them. You either got a wedgie, they were too thin, they fell off in the back (plumber crack, yay!), or they strangled your legs. I don't feel like dropping another $100 to see if another pair will work.
 |
| No peeing without taking your jersey off. |
3) Hygeine - So, as I mentioned, one of the chamois crowd's claims is that they wick sweat away from your body. This keeps you dry and pulls bacteria with it. Fine. Once it gets soaked though, there's nowhere for all that sweat and bacteria to go. So just clean them! Well, we won't have great access to washing machines. Also, after riding, you're supposed to take them off because you've created a warm, dark, moist bacteria environment. We're going to be riding 12 hours a day. If I can pass on a bacteria diaper, I'll try.
4-Social Barrier. Ever been at a coffee shop and some middle-aged, overweight man is walking around with clacky shoes and skin tight spandex? The chamois is this man's excuse! Cycling outfits can draw a line between normally dressed people and people who fluoresce with neon clothing and racing stripes. I want to ride into town and get a beer without announcing to the world I ride a bike. Will they still know though? Probably. Will they talk to me anyway? Probably. Emma will be there.
This is an experiment. The chamois didn't exist until the early 40s. That means almost four decades of the Tour de France without it! I'm not a stubborn, unchanging person (right?). If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. And don't worry, I'll have one on hand if needed.
 |
| The chamois didn't exist when this picture was taken. Perhaps that's why he's so happy. |
So Sam, prepare your 'I told you so.' You're probably going to need it, but I hope you wont.
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