SHORT VERSION: I came, I rode, I sucked. Almost a minute and a half slower than last time. Minimal caloric indulgences. No catastrophic mechanical failures.
MEDIUM VERSION: Despite wisely eschewing breakfast, I wasn't moved to splurge on a big brunch after the race, and drowned my sorrows with Erin's hastily patched-together hot cocoa (one part Sharffen Berger dry cocoa--the dregs of the can--with some other part Trader Joe's unsweetened dry cocoa, some parts milk, and not-enough parts sugar, the result of which tasted very sophisticated in that fascist killjoy pissing-contest "if only we could make this stuff whole-grain!" mode that afflicts so many modern chocolate companies who would like to be called "chocolatiers" but I refuse to take the bait). When we got home I made my locally famous non-fair-trade linguine alla vongole, using non-organic boxed pasta and clams from a can, okay? Placing: If they'd let me race in the Masters 45+ 1/2/3 like I'd wanted, I'd have a top-ten for Sean to post on our website; instead, I was a mere 12th in the M45 4/5. Such is the plight of one-day licensees in 2014. Self-assessment: PASS in the race (only because I managed not to crash), and B+ on the pasta. Erin gets an A on the cocoa because a) it was too good for me, b) the kids liked it enough to fight over it, and c) she made it to begin with while I was pursuing my own selfish race-preparation centers.
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