1st overall by 3 minutes...at the halfway point, then got a couple supplemental miles of training in, then jogged to the finish. It was awesome, because the wrong turn meant that I didn't have to expose my current descending style, which can best be described as what a three-legged dog would do if you cut off another one of its legs. In fact, this will probably be the strategy from now on--huff and puff to a certain point, then get out while there is still mystery. I will basically race like Sarah Palin governs.
Megan left on Sunday, and work at EDF is almost over for the summer. The soundtrack for the week was a mix of Gary Jules and the world's smallest, saddest violin. Luckily, I could commiserate with the world's saddest citrus fruit, John Boehner. His tears prevent scurvy!
|Trans-Atlantic ships should always have a strategic reserve.|
It was also OCI bidding week for law school. OCI stands for Our Cash Injures, and is the process where big firms come to law schools for On Campus Interviews. Segment 1 is the private firms, with fancy names that invoke nostalgic memories of tea-times and enslaving natives. There are 139 attendees. Segment 3 is the public interest firms, whose names invoke memories of being hounded by a college student to, like, put your name on this clipboard. There are 8 attendees.
Basically, you "bid" for "interviews," where you "express" your "character" through anecdotes about "advocating for Sudanese refugees." Unfortunately for you, Sudanese refugees have difficulty compensating the firms with several thousand dollars per billable hour. What you should probably do is reveal personal anecdotes such as your love for the coal industry, the Yankees, and anything else that may reveal a slightly more flexible conscience.
Just kidding, of course. OCI is not for me, and I won't be participating [Ed. note: cough LAZY cough], but it is a totally great option and I am so excited for everyone. However, and this is something that is important to remember, some of those 139 firms use their unlimited cash to advocate for somewhat reprehensible things. Our biggest cases this summer involve EPA attempting to protect health and welfare by limiting air pollution to levels which will, in one particular case, save 17,000 lives annually by 2014. Of course, Texas challenges the regulation, because you don't mess with their overwhelming sense of self-satisfaction. But alongside states like Texas and Wyoming, who seem to be aiming for the key post-apocalyptic hellscape tourist demographic, are many of the firms conducting On Campus Interviews. So, before you get caught in the 139 to 8 ratio, and chase the 160,000 reasons to join such a firm, remember one thing: many of them don't give a shit about anything. They will pay lip-service to pro bono work, and you may be able to make a difference with their resources, but the overwhelming inertia will be toward whatever the highest bidder wants. And when you are bidding, remember that the highest bidder usually wants whatever might save a few bucks, even if it means 17,000 extra death certificates every year.
That was a cheerful concluding sentence! Unicorns! The Fountain of Youth! Tax breaks for the top 1% will trickle down through the American economy! It's funny because they are all fictions of a bygone era.
Anyway, sorry for the detour. So...the race. Warm-up (FLAIL), ignore the pre-race instructions (FAIL), strip to underwear in front of children spectators (JAIL), and they're off!
The race began with a 3 mile, 2000 ft climb up Mt. Falcon, which is probably good for me after a couple injured weeks spent on the elliptical. In addition to bringing all the boys to the yard, my newly toned milkshake is better at going up. I spent the first five minutes going easy with the course record holder, then decided to try to end the race on the climb. A few switchbacks later, I was out of sight, which was good for the guy I was running with because, after the pre-race pit-stop in the woods, I was probably sporting a very chocolate milkshake.
The rest of the climb passed as most high-elevation climbs pass (think kidney stone). But after the injury, the lactic acid felt amazing. I crested in just under 22 minutes, which was the fastest known time on Mt. Falcon according to the race director's pre-race briefing. However, that should be taken with a grain silo full of salt, because this was the type of race that serves yellow Gatorade when people like my dad are registered. After countless time spent with him on road trips, in long lines, and waiting for the Weather Channel radar, the one thing I know is you NEVER, EVER drink the yellow Gatorade. In fact, you probably shouldn't drink out of water-bottles. While we're at it, just don't drink anything unless you can see the source of the spring.
At the top, the course rolled with a net elevation loss for a mile, and everything felt awesome. After the injury, I really welcomed the burning feeling in my legs, and the distance took just over 5 minutes. Unfortunately, a couple of those minutes were, in retrospect, spent off course. I should have realized it a few minutes later when I came to a parking lot. But I didn't. About a fortnight later, I realized it was time to turn around, and I came back to the mistaken trail juncture. The mistake was really, really stupid. It was the Balanced Budget Amendment of mistakes. Basically what I am saying is that the mistake definitely has the credentials to be a freshman Congressman from South Carolina.
|Last night's sunset. If we supplement sky fire with frog hail and/or blood rain, we can be sure that the House bill is a bad idea.|
Anyway, that was about it, a 3 minute lead lost through stupidity. But I still got fourth! WOOOOO! It was a totally awesome morning, with great people, in a really beautiful area. And I feel like I am back from the achilles detachment! Life is pretty awesome, and I owe the people in my life everything for that. Thanks so much, you guys are amazing :)