The hunger games (return): a race report of sorts – from a while ago

The gun goes off and we dash off like our lives depend on it. The crowd, sipping early morning espresso cocktails cheers. Having placed bets on their favourite twitbook hero. They know more about our bike set ups, training and run splits than we do. Some of us are just here because we are here. With our quirky bikes, little rituals and lucky charms
Some have forgotten life in the journey. Some have made this their journey. Some can’t wait for the finish line. I hope to be ready when it happens. And when it does it is completely left field, unexpected and unplanned for that it takes me by surprise for almost 30km. Figuring out what to do now. The figuring out what happened will take much longer. Days at least if I ever find the answer.
The first sensation I feel when I get off the bike is relief. Running shorts on. Take my top off and then I try to run. Instantly my feet are sore. The cramps are not far off. Coke is all I can stomach and I can not take too much it seems. I run as best I can and try to work this out. Too cautiously at first I guess until I throw caution to the wind and stop at every table to smash the black liquid. More and more. The crowd goes wild in waves and I crave their cheers but I grimace inside and out
(Good luck to all those that are trying to regroup after IM 70,3 and do the final few weeks for the big one at IMSA)
Oh and for a proper race report check this out:

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