Tuesday, 18 March 2008

This Festival Is Over

To The 17th To The 17th To The 17th Bap Bappup Bup Buppup - Well, finally the festival of Sax is over and not too soon either - the surprisingly unpleasant work week that was consistently followed by celebrations in or in aid of the name of my 30th year was getting a bit severe - knowing what the week's end had in store I planned to stay on the low side for the Friday and as far as I can recall I did that - visited the old friend Matt who has done a Shifty and sliced off some sections of the metacarpals - I can only imagine the pain and unfortunately I think my imagination can capture that nauseating experience and I hope I never have to share the experience.  Tried to sleep in on the Saturday in order to prepare for the night's festivities but failed and started was the start of a very long day.  Collected my uniform for the night and chose something appropriate for James (a skimpy little cave man number that certainly showed off his knees (I think they're his best feature).  Eased into the celebration with a quick beverage with a non-comer and then steeled my will, shaved my legs, whitened my face and adorned myself in Restoration Period lace and nylon because I was going back to the future.  Slightly blurred night - some excellent robots, Romans and space age pilots from people who understood the instructions, some character driven masterpieces from those who didn't understand the instructions and a fairly excellent showing of people who were imaginative in their excuses and lame in their efforts (yes, I get it, 2006 is an era ... I bought some shoes in that year too).  However, considering that the plan was to kick some corporate ass in the early AM it was a coke fuelled frenzy for me and the caffeine and sugar rush went to my head a little.  Bit disappointed with the inevitable no-shows but that's always something to be expected and catered for. 

However, after a night of being silly and three and a half hours of sleep I was up and atom with a bleary eyed Google directed drive to Oatley for the NSW Corp Games triathlon - upon arrival with the team mates (Simon the swimmer and Paul the extremely difficult to find runner) I had to hide the fixie in the throng and hope for the best but minutes after the swimmers made their way down to the lake there was an announcement for the track racer to come to the registration desk - obviously some unhoopy triathlete with all the gear and no idea except for the chip on his shoulder had dobbed in the BIke With One Gear(TM) and I was told, mate, I can't let you race.  After laying on the charm and assuring the organisers that I'd obeyed the limited rules (take that, you non-proof reading fools) and I knew what I was doing.  Well, obviously we had some idea because after a fair start with Simon's impressive swim I took off and hammered the hills in a way that only a fixie rider can and did the fastest transition in the race (nobody can dismount and run like an ex-courier), giving Paul enough of a start to take third (which, in retrospect, is better than first).  Wrecked me for the rest of the next two days but I got something that was better than a kick in the teeth and a bit of glory to shake on the 30 year old ego and that's a nice thing.

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