A bump on the bike path: Trouble with 'the seat of masculinity'

I won the lottery a couple weeks ago. The RAGBRAI lottery, that is.

My uncle and I are among the 8,500 or so weeklong registrants randomly picked to participate in the annual bike ride across Iowa. (RAGBRAI’s website says the odds of getting in are pretty high, but not 100 percent.) We are a two-person group and plan to ride five days, using the RAGBRAI trucks as our support, all of our overnight gear stuffed inside a waterproof canoeing bag.

It should be fun ... if I’m still able to ride my bike.

I recently learned the hard way why the prostate is called “the seat of masculinity.” Bumps along the trail, a poorly positioned saddle, and poor padding can cause a number of problems down below for men—including one I’ve experienced a few times since mid-April. I’ll spare the blogosphere the details, but the first episode involved an unforgettable visit to the emergency room.

The always entertaining and informative GCN crew has a video on the subject, though the segment focusing on the prostate mostly addresses cancer.

On top of being scary and frustrating, my unfortunate experience has been another encounter with vulnerability and a deep and disturbing realization of my own mortality—perhaps made worse by the fact it is affecting my “special purpose,” to channel Navin from The Jerk. It has also come at an emotionally inopportune time as I begin my next step in life.

Though cycling pales in comparison to running for me, I have relied on it during my long running hiatus (which will end soon!). Cycling has never provided the meditative state or euphoric high I experienced when I ran—nor is it spiritual—but it gets halfway there and is fun in its own way. Every ride is an adventure that gets me outdoors and my heart pumping. Though I’m not a speed demon and don’t train like I’m competing in the Tour de France, cycling makes me sweat and feel good. It has been a much-appreciated source of my one self-prescribed medication: endorphins. I have fallen in love with it, so I was crushed by the realization it was causing a problem and that I might have to give it up.

Might have to give it up.

Thanks to the all-knowing internet, I figured out what happened to me (I hope a doctor’s confirmation is forthcoming) and identified a few things that may have caused the problem: a poorly positioned saddle, degraded padding in my shorts (both pairs I have are four years old and not what they used to be), and high tire pressure, which transferred every bump on the road to the seat of my masculinity. I also learned there are easy solutions: a saddle with a cutout (to avoid unnecessary pressure on the “soft tissue”), a new pair of padded shorts, and lower tire pressure (I’ve always kept my tire pressure on the high end to decrease rolling resistance). The savvy folks at Geoff’s Bike and Ski recently endured my oversharing and helped me find the right size and style of saddle. (Measuring my sit bones was akin to photocopying my butt.) I also bought a new pair of padded shorts and decreased my tire pressure by 10–15 PSI.

Armed with my new gear and knowledge, I’ve gone on four short training rides and have had no complications afterward—which is a great relief in more ways than one. However, 15- and 20-mile rides are one thing, so longer rides of 30 and 40 miles will be a better gauge of whether or not I have this figured out and resolved. If I do, I will be extremely relieved and happy that I can continue cycling—albeit much more aware and vigilant of its possible effects on me. If not, I will need to give up cycling and be super bummed.

As much as I would hate to give up cycling, I will do it if I have to. Given the choice between cycling and sex, I’ll choose sex.