If you would have told me, a year ago, that this summer I would be writing a blog post about tan lines, I’d have replied with a chuckle. Actually, if you told me I’d have my own blog a year ago, I’d have doubted it… But here I am. If you would have added that I’d be PROUD of those tan lines, what amounts to a farmer’s tan, I’d have said you were flat out nuts.
So my wife and I are over at the neighbor’s pool trying to beat the heat and, looking at my legs, she asks, “how did you get so tan?”.
Now I’m working on being more civil and loving to my wife, so rather than answer with some kind of lighthearted dig about the amount of cycling I do, which would have been senseless and counterproductive, I simply raised the leg of my swimming trunks to reveal the well defined transition where my cycling shorts cover my upper legs. Her eyes comically widened.
To say that the transition is stark is to understate by an order of magnitude. My legs go from a healthy sunscreen slowed bronze to a bright mid-winter white in the space of a hundredth of one millimeter – in fact, the white is so crisp in the daylight that I would have waited to uncover had she not been wearing her sunglasses for it surely would have damaged her eyes. I briefly contemplated requesting that she don a welder’s mask.
So here I am, writing a blog post – about my glorious cycler’s tan – with pride, rather than a heavy heart, fit beyond my wildest dreams of even two years ago.
It’s a strange world.