Scott Martin

I realize I’m late to the party -- even Barbie’s now available with body art (incarcerated boyfriend sold separately) -- but what the heck.

Besides, getting your skin pierced by needles can’t be any more painful than doing Zone 4 intervals on the trainer while watching Jerry Springer. (Go hard while guests fight over who fathered the baby; go easy while Jerry opens the envelope containing paternity-test results. Repeat.)

Naturally, I want a cycling tattoo. I could go with something macho like “53x11,” but people who don’t recognize this as the hardest gear on a bike might wonder why I have a 5th-grade multiplication problem inked on my skin.

Instead, I might try a twist on the classic teardrop tattoo, which symbolizes that you’ve murdered someone. My tears would be on my quads, one for each time I’ve dropped a riding companion.

For something less boastful, I’m considering “I [insert heart symbol and favorite bike brand],” but this seems kind of crass. Although that could be overlooked if my favorite bike brand wrote me a, ahem, Giant check.

Likewise, “Born to exceed anaerobic threshold” just doesn’t roll off the tongue -- or any other body part. Maybe I’ll stick with “Friends don’t let friends shift with Campy” (or Shimano, or SRAM).

Then again, I could be over-thinking this. Perhaps a simple chainring tattoo on my calf would suffice. Oh wait, I already get one of those every time I go near my bike.

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