zoë stagg

Okay, two from the race. A before and after. I have roughly a billion things to say about yesterday, as probably does the traffic cop who had to make the call to let the 30-foot boat pass in front of a gal who didn’t appear to be running all that fast anyway, but who very clearly started to cry when she had to stop and wait for 20 seconds. I’m sure his day was less fun for a little bit too.

Luckily for all of you, I have a whole day in the car to write, so it will probably be less recap than recapifesto.

Before. Probably seconds before I realized that I didn’t just have to worry about MY swimming wave, I had to worry about the wave of men who started a teeny tiny five minutes behind me. NOT ENOUGH.

And after. The medal should really be around the neck of the amazing people who came with me, Ryan, who put my bike on top of the car and off again conservatively 47 times from home to the start line, and who did everything that was beyond my very-nervous capabilities in the last 72 hours, which was mostly everything – and Frankie, who was a champion yesterday, having to be up before dawn and hang out all morning, she was a trooper, and they rock.

More than you would ever care to know very soon, but I have a full day of complaining loudly about riding in a car.

• 07/28/14