The Old Guy Bicycle Blog

When I started cycling seriously years ago, I was well over 270 pounds. I’ve talked before about how riding helped me lose weight and change my health. But here’s one thing I never expected when I dropped down to 188 pounds: it looked like my penis got longer. Now before you roll your eyes — this isn’t some wild exaggeration or miracle. It turns out, there’s a real and very practical reason why this happens to a lot of guys when they lose a significant amount of weight. Why It Happens Most men carry some fat in their lower belly and pubic area — whether we like to admit it or not. When you gain weight, some of that fat builds up around the base of the penis. It doesn’t make anything smaller, but it does bury part of the shaft in soft tissue. Lose the weight, and suddenly that buried part is visible again. No enhancement required — just fewer inches of fat in the way. Doctors even have a name for this: “buried penis syndrome.” And they note that every 30–50 pounds of fat loss...

You're out there putting in the miles — wind in your face, legs burning, sweat dripping off your nose. Cycling should be melting the pounds away, right? But weeks go by, and the scale doesn’t budge. You start wondering, “Am I the only one not shrinking in spandex?” You're not. Weight loss from cycling can feel frustratingly slow — or even nonexistent — if a few key factors are working against you. Let’s break them down, one by one, and get you back on track. 🚴 1. The Calorie Conundrum You might be overestimating your burn. Fitness trackers, indoor trainers, and even Strava can inflate the number of calories you're actually burning. That “800-calorie ride” might really be 500. Rewarding yourself with a big treat afterward can easily erase your deficit. 👉 Related: Is Cycling 10 Miles a Day Enough to Lose Weight? Watch out for the refueling trap. Yes, post-ride snacks help recovery, but reaching for cookies or chips won’t help your goals. Focus on protein and complex ca...

There’s something about small-town mornings that feel different when you're on a bicycle tour. You're not just passing through — you’re dropped into a little slice of real life. I was a few miles into my ride that morning in Louisiana, and I pulled into a McDonald’s to grab some breakfast and check my route. Google Maps was acting strange — offering up confusing directions and possibly sending me into trouble. This was back in 2016, and I was still relying on Google’s bicycle routes, which, back then, often felt like educated guesses. That’s when I spotted two older gentlemen sitting near the front window. They looked like regulars — the kind of guys who probably started most mornings in that very booth. Their names were Ben and Terry. Something about their quiet familiarity with the place made me think, They’ll know. I introduced myself, explained I was on a long ride and that Google Maps seemed to be sending me down a road I wasn’t so sure about. Ben didn’t hesitate — he sp...

I’ve ridden thousands of miles—literally. There were years I racked up over 5,000 miles in the saddle. I conquered long tours, pushed through heat, wind, and hills, and still found myself… overweight. It was frustrating. I was putting in the work, sweating it out day after day, and yet, the mirror never quite reflected the effort. For a while, I tried keto. I lost a lot of weight fast, but eventually, I hit a wall. Keto was too rigid, too isolating, and just plain unsustainable. So the weight came back—every pound—and I kept riding. Then one day, I decided to try something so simple, I almost laughed at myself for not doing it years earlier. I started counting calories. At first, it was clunky. I used MyFitnessPal and would do great for a week or two, then life would happen—I’d forget, get lazy, or convince myself that “just a few chips” didn’t matter. But those chips did matter. Five or six small handfuls a day added up fast. I wasn’t tracking everything, and because of that, I w...

In the 1970s, long-distance running was exploding in popularity. After Frank Shorter’s gold medal win in the marathon at the 1972 Olympics, a wave of Americans — myself included — laced up and hit the pavement. I was just a teenager then, and like many others, I was inspired. Running became part of my identity. It was how I stayed fit, how I found peace, and how I challenged myself. And if you were a runner back then, you probably remember the Nike Waffle Trainer — one of the first shoes ever designed just for distance runners. I wore them with pride and pounded out hundreds, even thousands of miles in those soles. But here's what none of us knew at the time: those early running shoes didn’t offer the support or science that modern footwear does. No arch support, no shock absorption, no stability control. Just a flat slab of rubber and foam between you and the road. The First Signs of Trouble By my late teens, I was already experiencing knee pain . Before I’d even graduated colle...

Let’s talk about something most cyclists never do — at least not out loud. The tingling. The numbness. The awkward post-ride soreness that lingers longer than it should. If you’ve ever stepped off your bike and wondered, “Is this normal?” — you’re not alone. In fact, this post is a follow-up to one of the most popular and surprising articles on my blog: 👉 Can Cycling Improve Orgasms? The Surprising Science Behind the Ride But this time, I want to dig a little deeper — into the very real concerns cyclists have about sexual health, saddle pain, and how to ride with comfort and confidence for years to come. 🧠 The Science of the Saddle When you ride a bike, especially for long distances or multiple days in a row, a lot of pressure is focused right where you don’t want it — the perineum , the area between your sit bones that contains major nerves and blood vessels. For men, too much compression here can lead to erectile issues or prolonged numbness. For women, it can cause vaginal d...

Some rides don’t test your legs — they test your heart. In 2016, I was cycling across the country from Lubbock to Florida. I had already put in long, hot, humid days through Texas and Louisiana, and I was somewhere in the middle of central Louisiana on a road that felt like it might never end. From the start of that day, something felt off. My legs were dead. And when your legs go, everything else starts to follow. My neck ached. My shoulders were tight. My spirit was worse. I was days into the tour and starting to feel completely isolated. Even on my worst rides, I usually know I have the physical ability to grind through — but this time, doubt started creeping into my head. The kind of doubt that whispers, “Maybe you don’t have it today.” I had about 60 miles left to ride. I pulled into a convenience store to refill my bottles, mentally counting down how far I had to go — and not liking the number. That’s when I met them. Two large young men — I mean big guys, built like NFL linebac...