Caution: Mad Hairdresser at work Believe it or not, Jason asked me to do this. My lovely sunburnt pan was the result of a beautiful sunny day spent driving the bike course.
Skippy records the process for posterity.
Jason sports the final result at the parade of athletes the day before the race. Mr. Mayfield, accompanied by young Master Barclay, proudly waves the colors for Team RST. Yes, the sign is pathetic (you can barely even tell it's there, thanks to our lousy scanner), but what do you expect for a last minute project?? Besides, it had just survived a serious drenching by being crushed under my GoreTex jacket.
TriBaby lofts the RST banner. Immediately behind/beside me is RSTer Jay Crooker, who finished the race in a blinding-fast 9:50:45. That put him in 8th place for M25-29, 74th place overall, and copped him an IMH slot!! Not bad, eh?
IronPete fantasizes after the parade.
RSTers at the pre-race meeting. From left to right: IronPete, Jason, Bruce Grant giving Jason some extra ears, John Fenner in the foreground, and David Barclay looking far too cool in his shades.
David "Nervous? Me? Naaaaah!!" Barclay at approximately 9:30pm on Saturday, August 23rd.
A Richter climbs Richter Pass. Hrrumph, ain't nuthin' but a speed bump. Note the black socks; they were white when I started.
Finishing the bike with panache. Note the rakish flare of the windbreaker worn stylishly backward and "off the shoulder". (And if you think it wasn't a necessary accessory for the descent from Yellow Lake, think again).
Starting the run. Only 26.1 miles to go....
RSTers at the awards banquet: Skippy, Rolf, Mike Gilson, George Ball, and Mike's sister Tricia.
How sweet it is! Tribaby and Augie cross the line.
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