Don't act like I don't tell you how it is; if I say I'm gonna get shelled from a big race, that's how it's going down. So when I said I was gonna get shelled from Sea Otter, I was pretty much duty-bound to deliver for you, the precious readers of the Bacon and the Raisins. For three laps, I was up front on the climbs, hurting dudes, pushing McDonald's numbers out of my gigantic Tamagatchi screen. Four laps in, I can see dudes are hurting-- they're stringing out on the climb and not all of them are catching back on through the famous corkscrew. I'm thinking I've got it all plucked and stuffed, because the run-in to the finish is so smooth, so slow-- a dude with much booty could drop a nasty sprint through there. But then I remembered that I gave my word to get shelled, so hey pronto I dropped my chain on the steepest part of the climb.
What a douche. Fire your mechanic. I tuned it up the night after, better late than never etc., and that motherfucker shifts telekinetically now. Which would have been nice...
A week off, then more mid-pack finishes! I will update you with every detail of training, and tell you the same thing three times about Theo Bos.
