Lest anyone think I was racing.
Journalism is hard.
It is Sunday night and I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. After a mere 24 hours in Gotham with my press domestique Snarky G., (she rejects the title “Assistant”), I am a physical wreck. I assumed my week of slacking would have served very nicely as a taper for NYC Tri coverage. Wrong. So as I nurse my NY hangover and write about the weekend, I realize that there’s no way it’s all going to fit into one post. So Monday you get the Saturday report and Tuesday you get the Sunday report. There’s just too much for one post, and I’m too tired to write it all anyway. If you’d like to file a complaint, please see contact my domestique. Expect a snarkish retort.
I arrived around noon and hooked up with the team at their hotel on the Upper West Side. Outside the hotel we met these characters, Russ and Brian (or B.Y.) from South Carolina. B.Y. does all of his training on a mountain bike and swims the breast stroke. He was my brother in mediocrity.
Then a little lunch, which was yummy. We found a very unique and undiscovered sidewalk bistro. I think there are only two or three in the entirety of Manhattan. Truly special.
Packet pick-up: I am a creepy bike stalker with a camera. I love ogling sweet rides. No shortage of awesome bike porn at The Hyatt at Grand Central.
Pre-Expo, I listened to a very important person speak at the athletes’ pre-race meeting. The meeting was quick and very informative. It even included a short video by two Fox News personalities who explained the race course, the finish line area, and the validity of creationism.
Then onto the Expo, where I met these two beautiful creatures Isabella and Mischel with their racing father David. She is six and he is five. I know this because she told me and then recited a poem about it.
As I finished speaking with them, I was approached by Chris, purveyor of REVERB wireless headphones. He asked me to take a pair, try them out, and give a fair review on THE BLOG. As first, I hesitated. How quickly was I willing to give up my journalistic integrity? As it turns out, pretty quickly. Thanks to Chris for trusting me. The team and I will try these puppies out and I’ll post a review next week.
After the Expo, the WBTU ladies needed to rack their bikes. On the way to transition we encountered Cameron Dye, who we immediately swarmed and harassed. He could not have been nicer. I showed him my press credentials and asked him a few questions for THE BLOG. The answer to the most important question: glazed. You know the question. He also loves the Philly Tri, so we loved him even more.
Team WBTU with @CamDyeTri. That’s his Twitter name. (I know that because we are friends on the Twitter now.)
Here, the press domestique is sharing Philly Tri war stories with C.D.
Bikes were racked and professional triathletes were sufficiently harassed, so onto dinner, drinks, and dancing. Okay, maybe just dinner.
Pasta for dinner. You know it.
Snarky G. and I left the racers and went onto our own hotel, the historic and glamorous Waldorf-Astoria, at which the press domestique had acquired an amazing corporate rate. It was only then that I discovered that Snarky had another job, working as some big-wig corporate executive. At first I was dismayed, but then I realized that I would save a fortune not needing to provide a dental plan. So it’s all good.
Not too shabby.
Tomorrow’s report covers the race itself, plus our fruitless search for a decent donut in New York. Gotham, you disappoint me.