I knew Mike before he was bald. Mike was the gynecologist in my multi-specialty group with glaring white hair and a soft gravel voice. Though 30 years my senior, he stayed in better shape than I had at any age. He often strode into the office accoutered in neon bib shorts, after a weekend of cycling even more miles than his normal bike commute. When I first saw him without hair a couple years ago, he was quick to reassure me it was by his choice. “It is the best thing I’ve done,” he proclaimed. Whether that meant not fiddling with thinning hair or getting a better aerodynamic fit under his helmet, I didn’t know.