Those are hard words to utter, but they are true. The rules are simple: if you're it at the end of the August, you suffer unending ridicule from your UK Swimming teammates until SwimTag restarts in February. That's a long time to be a b@#$%.
Justin Max drove five hours from Columbus to Frankenmuth on Saturday morning to transfer his bitchdom onto me. The one redeeming quality of that SOB is that he at least waited until the race was over to do his evil deed. Video evidence is below. Now it is up to me to b@#$%ify another before 11:59:59 on August 31. My target has been chosen, as has the time I will strike.
Despite the b@#$%ifaction that occurred in Frankenmuth, the trip was still a pretty great experience. Between taking my first trip to Michigan (how have I never been to Michigan?) a generous homestay with fellow pros Brooks Cowan and James Thorpe, seeing the cool little town of Frankenmuth, a picturesque swim course in a calm river with overhung covered bridges, a bike through farmland with accordion players in leiderhosen on street corners, a run through little Bavaria, and a victory against guys I'd never beaten before, it was a pretty awesome trip. Paychecks are nice, too.