Friday, October 01, 2004

This is what race prep has always seemed like to me:

"The Mole had slipped off somewhere by himself, without telling any one where he was going to. The Badger sat in the arm-chair, reading the paper, and not concerning himself in the slightest about what was going to happen that very evening. The Rat, on the other hand, was running round the room busily, with his arms full of weapons of every kind, distributing them in four little heaps on the floor, and saying excitedly under his breath, as he ran, `Here's-a-sword-for-the-Rat, here's-a-sword-for-the Mole, here's-a-sword-for-the-Toad, here's-a- sword-for-the-Badger! here's-a-pistol-for-the-Rat, here's-a-pistol-for-the-Mole,here's-a-pistol-for-the-Toad,here's-a-pistol-for-the-Badger!' And so on, in a regular, rhythmical way, while the four little heaps gradually grew and grew."

Here's my number, here's my singlet, here's my GU. Where's my Gatorade? Here's my Gatorade, here's my socks, I mean my Anti-Blister system....

Got my RaceReady shorts, got my singlet, got my Gu.

On the other hand, I seem to have mislaid my watch.

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