You’re not a cutter. I was a cutter.

Because working sucks and blogging is cool, I will take this opportunity to thank our sponsor, [redacted], for their generous support in the form of a desk, some Internet access, and money for food. Speaking of which, it will be time to walk to lunch here in 45 minutes or so. I’ve plenty to do between now and then. Much is data entry and manipulation. I don’t want to do that so I’m going to do this instead. Data entry goes down better on a full stomach. At least that is what B. Buddy says.  (Where’s that update anyway?  Stuck in Cupertino?)

Patience is a virtue, Grasshopper; one especially valued when a person did not pay for the original app in the first place.  (I won! See, Twitter is good for something!)  And there is much respect due to B. Buddy, who took the financial downturn by the horns and came up with a great little business proposition.  I would likely still be on the sofa, watching professional bike racing and thinking I could do as well or better than Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin at running commentary.

I am not the first to challenge the ascendancy of Phligget.  Back in 2006, before you were born, there was a podcast. This was in the days of podcast aggregators that were not iTunes.  This was when I carried a Palm Tungsten E and it was badass because it had a color screen.  This was the time of Cycling Insight Podcast.  Cycling Insight was hosted by Bazz and Hutch, two drunken Australians who had a knack for knickers.  Who really cares about Lance Armstrong’s wattage ratio?  The real issue here are his absurdly long cycling shorts.  How does Funky Floyd do it?  Nicotine and steroid patches on his notcha (notcha testitcles and notcha bum. Your notcha.) Not so far off with that analysis of Funky Floyd.

They were, of course, fans of Michael Rogers, Australian cyclist and individual time trial champ.  Bazz and Hutch were not blinded by proximity, however.  In addition to critique of knick length, Cycling Insight expressed proper revulsion at the tendency of young Mick to extend his tongue during heavy effort.  The harder the go, the more protruded Roger’s oral muscle, as evidenced here in the recent Tour of California:

I don’t know, maybe it is an air scoop. Something like on the hood of a redneck’s pseudo rally car. I’ve ridden a lot, and I am not much of one for letting my tongue hang out. Then again, I have never done an ITT outside of the bike portion of a triathlon. (It’s not a race, it’s a time trial. That’s a discussion for another time.) Aside from the fact that I have found many amateur cyclists to be, oh how do you say? Pricks? Yes, that is your word, “pricks.” Aside from that, I have never really stirred up the chutzpah to slap on a nicotine patch and race against people I assume would be much faster than me. Don’t know why that particular hang up, which does not apply to running, applies to riding. But there you have it.

So I was struck and impressed that (from what I gather) relatively new to cycling Bryan “Babyface” Freeborn chose to participate in this year’s Town Mountain Time Trial.  Mssr. Freeborn does have a youthful face, but as you can see below, he has artfully disguised those boyish looks in a mountain man’s imperial.  Like B. Buddy, Bazzman, and Hutchrington before him, courageous Bryan has flown where Sanuk D fears to tread.  Good on ya, Freeborn.  And way to sport that Michael Rogers style.