A Problem That Was Stuck in the Closet

Soon after I started cycling regularly last year--after plunking down a grand for a sporty new road bike--I stumbled upon the sport’s biggest secret. I soon began experiencing those sensations no rider talked about: those odd tinglings in places that never tingled before.

But I’ve never had much use for secrets. I tend more toward the open-book approach to life, like that cheap paperback novel that’s lurid and sometimes funny but in the end hard to put down. So when I was riding with friends, my brother or even some strangers, and the buzzing started, I was quick to broach the subject.

Breathless, pedaling along some trail or back street, I’d call over to my fellow cyclist: “Hey, um, is your crotch, like, numb?”

Of course, not in so many words.

Most men just looked at me.

“Not mine, pal,” some would say.

Others wouldn’t even answer, as if the question was too preposterous.

But now, ever since Boston urologist Irwin Goldstein made an issue of the effects of cycling on the male anatomy two years ago, riders are talking about the problem.

Not long ago, noted cyclist Ed Pavelka broke new emotional ground in a sport dominated by machismo and one-upmanship when he acknowledged that he was among the unlucky few experiencing symptoms that were much, much worse than any tingle--he suffered a breakdown in the male sexual plumbing that led to a diminished performance in the bedroom.

Pavelka, of course, is no regular rider. Even at age 46, he puts between 14,000 and 20,000 miles a year on his bike. More than a cyclist who rides just to stay fit, he is one of the sport’s insane, never-get-enough die-hards.

And here he was admitting that his beloved sport had made him “as soft as overcooked rigatoni.” The blood flow to his crotch, he said, “had become so restricted that I was incapable of an erection firm enough for sexual intercourse.”

Finally, the word was out. Within weeks, Pavelka received more than 3,000 e-mails from cycling enthusiasts around the world. Many had experienced the same side effects.

Everyone was talking. Except the guys I rode with.

Since I got no consolation from my peers, I took my little concern to the experts at my local bike shop. I got a seat that designers say solves the problem, a saddle called the Minkow Wedge, that relieves the pressure on the plumbing.

And so now I’m a wiser rider. I stand frequently and change positions on my seat to relieve pressure where it’s not meant to be felt.

Still, I feel cheated.

At age 41, it takes a lot of trial and error to find just the right exercise--a sport that keeps me coming back for more, one that I can do solo as well as in groups, that helps me stay fit.

Now I have to deal with this other little matter. If I listen to the doctors, staying in the saddle might eventually mean a risk to my progeny.

So far, that hasn’t happened.

If it does--fellow riders, beware.

Mr. Paperback just might open a new chapter.