Of course my swim featured fewer Kabuki masks than this video, but the James River was just as angry and spiteful. It dragged us out of our homes in chains to meet the tar-and-feather mob: no pro woman swam under 30 mins and the fastest pro man went 26 mins. That's slow. I swam nearly 10 mins slower than I did 3 weeks ago, but then again, everyone who didn't get dragged from the water for safety reasons had a similar story and margin of dis-improvement. A first-race female pro was in the water for an hour and 10 mins. Yeah.
This Delta Rae song actually was on the pre-race playlist that I made for all the shuffling around by shuttle required on race morning. As soon as I started doggedly fighting the waves the lyrics started cycling through my head on an endless loop. Yes, the irony of the choice is not lost on me.
Of course I needed a new ear worm when I got on the bike. This Uncle Lucius song struck the right plaintive balance between a hard work ethic and "can I be off the chip seal now? can I be through the twisty turny hills now? can I be done now?"
Plus you gotta love a man who can whistle in tune.
Bonus factoid: this live session was recorded about 300 feet from my apartment in Austin.
At the pre-race pro meeting, the terms "flat" and "fast" were thrown around by race management. A local pro replied that they clearly hadn't run the run course.
Yup, just wake me up when it's over.
Bonus History Lesson
The race finish was only two miles from Colonial Williamsburg. (In fact, the whole race was quite scenic, and very well run, as per Rev3's well-earned reputation.) I hobbled over and laid on a bench under a tree and watched the fife and drum band strut their stuff. Apparently, band membership is based on a wait list and prized among the local families. Boys' names are added to the wait list at birth.
I was previously unaware that colonial Americans circa the mid-17th century purchased their kitchen wares at Williams-Sonoma. Once again I am failed by my public school education.