Quadtastic

Years ago, in what passed for my track racing heyday, I had a T-shirt which read "I'm not fat, I'm a sprinter".

Total lie, of course -- I couldn't sprint the skin off a rice pudding.  Something to do with my "fast-twitch" muscles being completely outnumbered by my "can't-be-arsed-to-twitch-at-all-muscles".

Maybe I should dig it out of the drawer again now; thanks to Sir Christopher Hoy (Lord Hoy of Meadowbank?), the British public are used to the idea of cyclists being hulking musclemen rather than skinny runts -- Hoy's massive shoulders and quads like Iberian hams will be the defining memory for many of Beijing 2008.

And speaking of thigh muscles, I've been entertained by Beth Bikes, a cute blog from a Northern California trackie who's obsessed -- in a good way -- with her quads.

Like some Bridget Jones of the velodrome, Beth measures her own -- and other riders' -- and publishes the results on her site.  Hers are currently an impressive 63.5 cm at  the widest point, only a few centimetres  short of Gregory Bauge and his trouser-ripping 69-ers.

Beth's currently engaged in a battle to convince Michael Ball (not the West End Musical Star), CEO of Rock and Republic clothing, to make a "Keirin-cut" jean, specifically designed for women with larger quads than the average scrawny supermodel.

It's not a problem I've really encountered -- if I ever attempted to wear skinny-indy-boy jeans, my wife and daughters would never speak to me again.  And Gap's straight-cut fit me fine.  But Beth's case is a worthy one so give her some support.

Life magazine once printed a life-size photo of Muhammad Ali's clenched right fist. The picture editor said the genius of it was that no-one -- male or female, young or old -- could resist laying their own hand on the page to see how it compared.

And no-one reading Beth's blog can resist digging the Ikea soft tape measure out of the cupboard and measuring their own quads.

60 cm since you ask, and not a milimetre of fat.

No cheating, now.