Coming up short

I'm old enough that when I started cycling the chamois inserts in shorts were genuinely made from goats.

Thin, unpadded ovals; they were wonderfully soft and absorbent in the shop and for the first ride, but washing gave them the consistency and feel of coarse-grade sandpaper. 

 

To make it wearable, you had to grasp the insert with both hands and scrub like a demented Victorian washerwoman; then apply "chamois cream", a thick yellow gunk which just gave it the feel of sandpaper covered in axle grease.

Unsurprisingly, there seemed to be more cases of saddle sores, infections and the dreaded boils in those days; and you sympathised with those old-school pro's who would begin the day with a sirloin steak stuffed beneath their privates, ride a 200-mile stage and then fling the flattened, seasoned cut of meat to the hotel chef to prepare for that night's dinner.

Decent artificial chamois brought an end to all that, of course, and the reduction in cyclist-groin-to-animal-product-interaction has been one of the many improvements I've seen in cycling over the past twenty years.

But my increasing mileage in preparation for June has highlighted some, er, shortcomings in my shorts department -- and I've had to take action.  

I've ordered a new pair of Assos F1's -- suspiciously cheap off of that Ebay; and bought a tub of the same company's pricey new-age bum butter.

It's certainly a different product to the chamois cream of thirty years ago -- lightly perfumed and with the consistency of an expensive moisturiser.  Rather disturbingly, it warns "avoid intimate areas" -- how does that work, then? 

Initial impressions are favourable -- despite an unexpected warming sensation on first application.  Lance Armstrong apparently recommends some product used by American farmers on their cows' udders -- but I think I'll stick with the Swiss variety.

I'll keep you updated.  Although, obviously, not in too much detail.