He's Got Legs.

The other day I was reading Steve Tilford's blog, because I really don't have much to do during weekends (especially long weekends) but eat, sleep, and ride. That may sound wonderful, but since I can only do so much riding in this environment I am left with a lot of time to eat and sleep. Sleep is a wonderful thing, but if I do too much of it I feel completely dull and it throws off my sleep schedule for the rest of the week. Eating is a wonderful thing as well, but again, too much of a good thing is counter-productive.
 
I was skimming through it and came across a picture of a rider without reading the post relating to it. This guy had SoCal Masters legs- tanned to a deep bronze and sporting muscles I didn't know humans could grow. My legs are starting to get pretty lean and venous with all of the miles I'm putting into them, and they're pretty tan by my British Isle standards. My mid-section still needs a lot of work, and my moobs could go down a cup size or two, but I have been pretty happy with the way my legs have been shaping up. Then I saw this picture.
  
Turns out, the reason Steve posted the picture was because the guy had just accepted a four year ban for refusing to submit to a doping test. Now, as I understand it, the Race Clean initiative has increased the number of tests significantly, but the chances are that any out-of-competition testing is done because USADA is pretty sure that the guy is doped to the gills. Somebody (or a group of somebodies) dropped a dime on this guy and he knew he was busted, so he refused to submit. Pretty smart on his part, because he could always claim that he knew he was going to get hit for the OTC cold medicine he just took, conveniently overlooking the 362 banned substances he brought across the border from a pharmacia or was prescribed by his "anti-aging" doctor. The Southwest is known for their "extremely competitive" Masters scene, and doping is just part of the arms race. Chances are, whatever this guy was popping or injecting or rubbing on his lady parts was allowing him to build muscles that are usually found on race horses owned by the mob.
  
I realize that this guy may have been more genetically gifted than I am. That wouldn't be hard to fathom. He probably ate better, trained smarter, and generally did all the things he was supposed to do according to the editors at Bicycling magazine. He might have even stepped inside a gym at one point or another. Whatever the reason, his legs were more defined and developed than mine will ever be.
  
I'm too lazy to do the work and too poor/scared/quasi-ethical to do the dope, so if he's not using them for the next four years, would it be wrong for me to ask if I could borrow his legs for a while? I promise not to scrape them up too much, although the tan will fade to the same shade as the underbelly of a halibut, which may decrease the potential of skin cancer- not that it will be much of a concern after all of the other cancers spurred on by the doping get going.
  
Just a thought. Probably not a good one, but a thought nonetheless.

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