Our trip to San Francisco was a huge success and a great time all around. The anxiety surrounding the race was understandable since neither of us have done the race but the actual experience far exceeded expectations. Believe me when I say that the swim was the easiest part.
A whirlwind day between trips had us getting blood and urine drawn (is that accurate?) for life insurance purposes, getting a back splash installed in the kitchen, registering the truck, and putting our bikes back together as well as going for a 1 hr ride at Hains Point. Oh, yea, and packing.
J had a brilliant idea to go have dinner at Sticky Rice (still very good, working out the kinks) and then pop in for a drink at the Palace of Wonders where we proceeded to bond with the bartenders, one of whom I can’t remember his name, but the other is Bernie, like Weekend at Bernie’s (the only way I can remember it now). This excursion ranks among the “what not to do before you head out for a long road trip to Boston to do an epic bike ride”. 4 or 5 shots of Powers whiskey and 4 beers later, we stumbled home (after closing the place down) and I awoke to street sweepers and realized the truck was parked on the wrong side of the street…went down and moved it and tottered back to bed. Bits and pieces of the evening are floating back to me, like sleeping on the floor (not sure why) and J hiding from me to freak me out…and me looking for him like we were playing hide and seek. My favorite phrase now is “What rock star did I think I was and how did he manage to inhabit my body without my permission?” I suppose the upside is that we now have friends for life at the Palace and we rocked an otherwise boring Wednesday night. But now its 11:30 a.m. and we were supposed to leave by 9…already off schedule.