Bag Balm Isn't Just For Cows

I don't mean to offend. I am not trying to splatter some questionable text onto the page and derail anybody's puritan sensibilities, nor am I looking for literary shock, ala Howard Stern. I just think this topic we are discussing here isn't covered in Lava online and it should be. There is zero data available in any triathlon literature and it's high time somebody covered it with some real life, scientific data. Somebody needs to throw down some raw data (pun intended) and let the reader decide. The following lines are the real McCoy, the Good Housekeeping seal of approval, lab tested facts documented by double blind testing, whatever that is. What I am going to talk about here, in this private setting, this inner sanctum of truth, this completely secure forum is the uncomfortable topic; 'Bike Seat Rash'. You know what I am talking about. Don't be shy. We all suffer, we just don't throw it out as a conversation starter at the church social. Well, I do, but you probably don't.

Now, don't run to to the freezer for a double scoop of fudgeyvanillacaramel ice-cream emotional salve just yet. I am not going to drop an auto-biographical Full Monte video on you, but I am going to start the ball rolling and tell you what I think. If you don't want to read it, don't read it. Don't get your panties in a wad. If your grade-school sensibilities prevent further investigation into this important topic, go watch Bambi on your VHS. Again. For the thirty-seventh time. But if you are a real man, or a real woman, read on. If you dare. Only if you dare.

A little history to set the stage - A couple million years ago, about a week after the whole apple and the snake and the garden debacle, the man and women were given a second choice. They got to pick internal or external. Do you want your private parts inside or outside? Do you want to get a rash on a bike seat or not? That really happened.

The guy was without reason and completely extemporaneous so he said “I want to hang loose and feel the breeze and what the hell is a bike seat anyway?” Idiot. Moron.

The girl, being thoughtful and having already gone zero for one on the scorecard said “I don't want a rash from a bike seat. And I am NOT with him.  He is an idiot.”

So that is how we got here.  If you posses excess nose hair and external organs, you suffer on a bike seat.  It isn't your fault.  You didn't design it, you just happened to come up tails in the great gender coin toss when you were born.  Too bad, it sucks to be you.

Fish got it right. The boy fish and the girl fish look fairly similar, they swish their fishy tails the same way on the same river, but the boy fish isn't getting blisters and a really painful rash when his boy parts rub up against his bike seat. The boy fish isn't dropping ten bucks on a pint of Bag Balm every month during bike season.  To reflect a bit, the question occurred to me; "How does it feel knowing a salmon is more evolved than you are?

So now, I bought stock in the bag balm company. Bag balm is the only thing keeping me on my bike.  You girls go ahead and laugh but you guys are all nodding your heads and thinking “Ya. This dude knows. He's an idiot, but he has this bike seat thing wired.”