If you're a man, it gets worse. Not only does the seat feel like it's destroying your balls, it might actually be destroying your balls. Heavy-duty riding over a long period of time compresses your perineum -- also known as the "taint" or "gooch" for people who like to giggle while talking about serious medical problems.
Image courtesy of pandataint.tumblr.com, your number one Internet source for panda taint images. (Really.)
That compresses a vital channel inside your chode, a channel which is actually known to actual doctors as Alcock's canal. That canal houses a nerve and an artery that allows you to both get boners and put them to use. If you constantly pinch it by riding the Tour de France or something, then you will pitch no more tents.
Researchers estimate this affects 5% of male cyclists who will admit it, plus a larger percentage of male cyclists who are too embarrassed to admit they've neutered themselves.
Bike seats exist that are easier on your grundle, and suppliers are constantly inventing more taint-friendly seats, but very few seats are completely innocent of attempting to gradually castrate their riders.
Pro cyclist Mark Cavendish celebrates a win by asking the crowd what happened to his sperm count.
And what about something that both genders are interested in, for different reasons - lady parts? Well, just like with men, biking too much can lead to numbness in a lady's special area which is certainly not a good thing, but doesn't seem to cause actual sexual dysfunction. So there's that.
#1. The Clothes Are Designed to Make You Look Stupid
Biking clothes on anybody are like shaved heads on women. If you are really good looking to begin with (Natalie Portman) then you still look good, but not as good as you did before.
If you are not super hot to begin with, you will look like a douche.
I do not think that girl can ever look ugly.
If you look at any rack of biking jerseys, it looks like a clown wardrobe. There are a couple of reasons for the bright colors -- cars almost never look for bicyclists on purpose, so you have to stand out like a sore thumb to be safe.
I'm not sure what the pros' excuse is, they close the roads off for them.
The other reason for the colors is that due to practical design, all the clothes look pretty much the same -- they need to be tight to minimize wind resistance and not get caught in things -- so the only way to stand out as an individual is with offensive color combinations.
As terrified as I am about safety, I still wear a black jersey. If I die, at least I'll die fashionable and dignified.
Tacky tops aside, bike shorts are terrible in their own way. If you invented a piece of clothing to humiliate people, you could hardly do better. Normal-looking women suddenly look like they have giant T-rex hips, and men get to show everyone their package (before wrecking it on their seat).
There's a whole blog about it ...
Anyway, sorry about that. Here's a picture of Natalie Portman with hair.
Well now that I've gone to all the trouble to show that this is clearly some kind of terrible hazing ritual, why on earth am I still biking? After all, I'm a lifelong couch potato and I'm afraid of everything. I'm afraid of fire, knives, heights, going fast, jellyfish, Taiwanese home cooking, you name it.
It's pig uterus!
I'm still going to avoid most of those things but you can't spend your life avoiding everything you're afraid of. I like going outside, getting in shape, seeing beautiful scenery, and if I'm going to let the thought of falling off the bike and being dragged down an asphalt road at 40 miles per hour stop me from enjoying the things I- oh man. I feel kind of faint, I think I need to go lie down.
Actually, one of the reasons I'm riding is to raise money to fight cancer. I've already raised quite a bit thanks to amazingly generous Cracked readers. Click here to find out more or donate.
Be sure to pick up what Lance Armstrong is (probably) reading while he rides his bike, the Cracked.com book!
For more from Christina, check out 5 Weight Loss Tips for Cynical Bastards and 'Plus Sized' Clothes: Translating the Baffling Euphemisms.