Scott: I thought I was getting a tan, but my hairless body proved otherwise.

One thing my brother and I don't want is skin cancer. And though it may already be inevitable with the failing ozone, global warming, and the numerous amounts of burns we've obtained as children, we'd like to fight the burns on our biking the states trip to the best of our abilities. There are a number of ways to do this. Sunscreen is a big one. We've got spf 30, because I've heard it's the best protection for the price. If you go above thirty you'll get a very little bit more protection for a lot more money. The other thing which can prevent burns brings me to the title of my blog today.

Since there is only one month left before our departure, I've tried to do at least one bike related piece of work each day. For the past four days we've been riding in the early morning and today I will ride again. But aside from the obvious physical shape we need to be in, there are other precautions we need to take. So, along with riding and packing and lifting weights to help my strength, I've been tanning.

Everyday I go outside and tan for what I feel like is a couple of hours. In reality it is not nearly this long, but like yoga, I find tanning to be tediously boring and unnecessarily hot. So, to help you grasp how long I'm outside I'll say 4 minutes tanning time is equivalent to 1 minute actual time. In the future I will be numbing the pain of my boredom with a 30g ipod and bose acoustic noise canceling on the ear headphones, but since both are on lone to a co-worker who has never seen Flight of the Conchords, I have to deal with the monotony of chirping birds and passing cars while laying outside.

After a couple of weeks of tanning I felt pretty good about myself. I figured I had a nice base going, and soon it wouldn't matter how long I was outside. I wasn't going to get burned. I could look at myself in the mirror for hours appreciating the tan I had acquired. I would pose, turn around, pose some more, flex left, flex right, kissy face, blue steel, magnum, (Just kidding. Magnum isn't near ready enough for display.) and finally get on with the day. Today I felt especially chipper. Then the midmorning came. Out of the blue I felt something needed to get done. What that thing was, I didn't know yet, but I didn't have work today and Matt was on an overnight trip to some somewhat nearby hot spring, and I felt the shadow of apathy creeping toward me.

Then it hit me. This was it. This was the day I was going to shave my body. I wanted to wait for a more ceremonial occasion with hundreds of spectators, but when a nap is staring you straight in the face you've got to say "Screw you nap," and take the proper action.

Shaving for the first time in eight months is a bit of an undertaking. You can't just dive right in with your mom's stolen "Venus" razor blade snapped on to your mach 3 razor. You have to shorten and then shave, otherwise it's just a tangled lengthy mess. So I started with the electric razor, buzzing up and down my chest until everything was gone. (This was more the icing on the cake than something I thought I needed to do.) "That's interesting," I thought as I removed hair farther and farther down my body.

I moved on to the right leg, methodically buzzing up and down, and inch by inch my woolen leg lost its natural insulation to the floor. Once again my leg felt the sweet smell of fresh air. Each follicle was able to breath easy after a winter in hibernation. For the time being I would only do my right leg. I like to shave in this pattern every time I take on a full body cleansing because it reminds me of the time I shaved half of my body. It was the right half, in case you were wondering. "That's interesting," I thought once again as I looked in the mirror. Le Tigre.

As I compared one flexed calf to another, I realized something I had experienced in years past. I wasn't tan. I wasn't even really close to being tan. My body was covered in a facade, lying to itself that it was more beautifully bronzed than it actually was. It was not my tan skin, but my tan hair, and without it I'm just another susceptible fool. I suppose in the end I would sacrifice my falsely tan body for smooth skin.

So I went back and shaved the left leg. Nothing is sexier than symmetry. I'm happy I did, because there is only a bit that gets me in the biking mood more than sleek aerodynamic legs, and there is little I love less than unwanted hair.

We still have a month left, and by golly I'm going to use that time to build up my base.