The ritual of shaving your legs is as sacred to cycling as the overpriced espresso or the mid-ride mechanical that was “definitely the mechanic’s fault.” We’ve all hunched over a bathtub with a disposable razor, whether or not we understand exactly why we’re doing it.
But where do you actually stop? Is there a tactical advantage to the mid-thigh fade, or is it all-or-nothing in the pursuit of the “pro” look? Here is our definitive guide to the various lengths of the cycling shave.
Shave What You See
This is the classic “I have a mortgage and a career” look. You shave exactly up to the hem of your bib shorts, so the parts of your legs visible when you’re riding are smooth. It saves time and shaving cream.
But you’re not a genius doing this, because you look like you’re wearing a pair of hairy Victorian swim trunks the moment you take the bib shorts off. Only choose this option if nobody is seeing you without your shorts.
Going Pro
You’ve gone past the tan line. You’re committed. Your legs look like marble columns, and you’re feeling the breeze in a way that is frankly a little erotic. This is the ultimate look for the aspiring Category 3 racer. It makes massage easier, road rash cleaning less of a scream-fest, and you look great in a pair of compression socks.
Just be prepared for the maintenance. Miss a day and you’re walking around with legs that feel like 40-grit sandpaper. Your bedsheets will never forgive you.
Finding a New Side Hustle
The problem with the pro look is where exactly you stop shaving. The purists might decide that if the quads are smooth, the rest of the chassis should match. We’re talking a full scorched-earth policy. You’re in the shower, the logic of aerodynamics has taken over your brain, and suddenly you’re taking the razor to places that haven’t seen daylight since Barack Obama was running the country.
If you’ve reached the point where your ass crack, asshole, and the surrounding zip code are as bald as a cue ball, you’ve officially crossed a line. You’re prepping that area like it’s about to undergo a federal inspection. At this stage, you’re not getting any more marginal gains, and the “chafing in places you didn’t know could chafe” risk is 100%.
If you’re going through this much effort for a Tuesday night crit, you might as well set up a ring light, find your best angles, and start charging a monthly subscription. The cycling industry doesn’t pay well enough to justify this level of grooming for free.
Forgetting Your Knees and Kneepits
The most common amateur mistake. You do a brilliant job on the shins and the thighs, but you treat the kneecap like a no-go zone. You end up with two weird, hairy tufts right on the joints. It looks like your legs are growing eyebrows. If you’re going to do it, do it right. Use a mirror. Don’t let your knees become the “un-named teammates” of your grooming routine… give them the attention they deserve or don’t bother at all.
Finally, there is the person who just refuses to participate. The rider with legs so hairy they look like they’re wearing wool tights in the middle of July. They claim it’s a protest against the “bourgeois norms” of the peloton, but really, they just can’t be bothered. There is a certain power in it—a “beat me while I’m a mammal” flex that is hard to argue with if they actually drop you on the climb. Just don’t expect the local soigneur to touch you with a ten-foot pole.
The Naturalist Flex
Finally, there is the person who just refuses to participate. The rider with legs so hairy they look like they’re wearing wool tights in the middle of July. More werewolf than human, they claim there’s no evidence of the benefits of shaving, but really, they just can’t be bothered. Unfortunately, it’s hard to argue against if they actually drop you on the climb.
