Benchmark

March 19, 2019 § 10 Comments

I was like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

What do you mean somebody else is gonna do a profile on Greg Leibert? Is there another Greg Leibert I don’t know about? Greg Leibert the CEO at Mesmerize? Greg Liebert the engineering consultant? Greg Leibert the helicopter pilot who crashed in Antarctica?

‘Cuz I mean if it was one of THOSE Greg Leiberts I would sort of shrug and say, ah, well, okay, write whatever you want, dude. But on the other hand. IF you are talking about Greg Leibert the bicycle, then I am offended and challenged all at the same time.

There is no bicycle, there never was any bicycle, there is never gonna ever be any bicycle like Greg Leibert bicycle. And it’s not like people haven’t tried. Oh yes, they have. And when they try to bicycle like Greg Leibert bicycle, most generally all they get is a mouth filled with their own puke. The greenish yellow kind that burns like battery acid and eats off your teeth.

Just the facts

People have been writing and videoing and oohing and aahing over Greg Leibert bicycle a long time and generally it is the same old thing. Let me rehearse. The fax.

  • Greg Leibert bicycle kicked your ass in a bike race.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle kicked that other dude’s ass in a bike race.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle kicked a bunch of people’s asses on a training ride.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle kicked all those same people’s asses who he kicked on a training ride all over again in a bike race.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle kicked your ass and that dude’s ass again in a bike race.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle did a workout on VdM so hard it broke the hill down into a flat street.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle is a very nice fellow.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle never cusses (much).
  • Greg Leibert bicycle helped a granny over a mud puddle once.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle was kind to a puppy that one time.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle tore some grown men’s kidneys out backwards in a bike race and made them weep.
  • Greg Leibert bicycle used to be Greg Leibert Kansas foot runner who was real fast but not fast enough.

Okay, those are the facts and you don’t need to memorize them because the next story that comes out about Greg Leibert bicycle in a couple of months will tell them all over again, rearranged. You know what I say to that? Shoddy pumpernickel. That’s what I say.

Shoddy pumpernickel

I liked the way it sounded so I said it again.

Listen up pillow-babies

I don’t care about any of those facts because they are just facts. What I care about are the pillow-babies and the Faceblab babies, the folks who see Greg Leibert bicycle and all they think is “There goes tall wrinkly Yoda in a Speedo,” or “He ain’t that fast for a motorcycle,” or “I was gonna come around him but.”

Yes, all of you pillow-baby Flaceblab concept kit wearing team turkeys, listen up because I am going to tell you what Greg Leibert bicycle is, was, and will always be, no matter how many preen laps you do around CBR getting hooted at by three drunk homeless people, no matter how many selfies you take in your newest $800 Dopefinn Dopesquatch kustum kit, and no matter how many #fakewatts you generate in your Zwift cave bathing in your own stink and sweat.

What Greg Leibert bicycle is, is a benchmark. If you want to make the needle move on the badassometer, you will need a time machine, and you will need to go back to when Greg Leibert bicycle wasn’t a brokedown old Yoda who is still faster than 98% of the riders out there, no sir, you’ll need to zip back to the late 90’s or early 2000’s when he had more hair on his chest than a grizzly bear, yes, you’ll have to go back in time to those days when there wasn’t no Garmin, wasn’t no Stravver, wasn’t no power meters except for the right one and the left one, wasn’t no carbon bikes or electronicified shifting, when most racers was too flat fuggin’ broke to dope, you go back to THOSE days and try on Greg Leibert bicycle for size and see if you can swallow back the puke when he stomps it because unless you was one of the few, the cagey, the talented, the mean, the living-in-the-backseat-of-an-old-BMW Chris Walker, you wasn’t gonna do anything except tail off the back like an old cigarette butt getting pipped and flipped out the car window.

In other words, benchmark.

Gnash your teeth, pillow-babies, because the mark that Greg Leibert bicycle set wasn’t in 0’s and 1’s, it was in broken manhood and shattered egos.

There’s marks and then there’s marks

Greg Leibert bicycle set the benchmark for bicycle but he set the benchmark for human being, too. There were plenty of really, really good bike racers who beat Greg Leibert bicycle, but many were also really, really big unpleasantness. Doper unpleasantness some of them, arrogant unpleasantness some of them, you get the point.

What set Greg Leibert bicycle apart was his legendary Let Me Walk Your Dog Across the Street Ma’am attitude, his willingness to tear out your kidney on a climb and then put it over a mud puddle so some little old granny didn’t get her tennis shoes wet.

Greg Leibert bicycle invented bicycle friendliness, and it’s why road cycling in his back yard is pretty darned friendly. And when he gets mad he actually does say “Darn.” And he never calls anyone a “sorry maternal fornicator,” even the sorry maternal fornicators, which is pretty much everyone on the NPR.

There are lots of other benchmarks that Greg Leibert bicycle set, for example benchmark of sincerely laughing at your stupid jokes.

Benchmark of nodding sympathetically at how you almost won that race but got 58th.

Benchmark of stopping to help you fixaflatfillawaterbottlechangeadiaper.

Benchmark of driving the van to races. Or the Prius. Or the dog cart.

Benchmark of helping you stragetize how you was gonna upgrade from Cat 5 to Cat 1 next year.

Benchmark of coming to your party and never making an ass out of himself.

Benchmark of towing your maternal fornicating self to the finish line and gifting you the win.

Benchmark of being polite when he met your parents.

Benchmark of doodling a hilarious cartoon that you loved so much you tattooed it on your undercarriage (not me, really).

Benchmark of listening to the tale of your epic training ride/gigantic power numbers/29th spot on the Strava leaderboard for your age-weight-gender/new bicycle gewgaw/question about training that you have zero interest in hearing his answer to.

Benchmark of supporting his club and new riders.

Benchmark of encouraging instead of discouraging, clapping instead of slapping, cheering instead of jeering.

Benchmark. Of. Friend.

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