Orphans, returned!



(Whole Flickr set here.)

Nothing but great things to report from me, either. Meeting people was great, and the race was fun as hell. I DNF'ed after three checkpoints in a glorious explosion of unathleticism and lack of directional know-how.

My best story developed as I was locking up outside of Rockstar...this guy came up to me rolling his bike in one hand and half of a busted Campagnolo crankarm in the other. He told me that he'd snapped it during the race, and...favor time...could he borrow my bike to ride across the bridge to Bikeworks for a new crank?

"Uhhhh...okay." I got some collateral in the form of a credit card and a quick snapshot. He said he'd be back in half an hour, which came and went many times over, and I started getting really drunk and really concerned that I'd been the victim of the single most elaborate track bike-thieving scheme of all time. (Thanks to giboyeux and schlo moe for the nervous reassurances that everything would be okay.) Eventually he did return, was very apologetic about the delay, and bought me a beer. He turned out to be Jumbo, who, despite breaking a crank somewhere on the Williamsburg Bridge, placed 11th. For those not familiar, the descent into Brooklyn off of the bridge is pretty steep, and when I asked him how he navigated it, he just kind of shrugged and said "One foot on the pedal, one foot on the tire."

After racing, drinking, and eating dinner with Monkey, I was ready to pass out around 9, but fortunately my hostess had planned for me to go dancing at some lesbian club in Park Slope. I heart NY.