Official race pictures have yet to become available to me but you can see what I looked like 15 yards before the finish line. It’s not pretty, so I guess you can file this under H for hypocrisy because mine knows no bounds.
Check out the guy and his daughter behind me who are giving me the ol’ hairy eyeball. I was in a pretty comatose state so I don’t remember what I did to deserve that. It could have been any one of the following: farting, cursing, farting while cursing, shouting, spitting, snot-rocketing (it can be a verb), or just generally smelling like a locker room. Whatever it was, I hope that he will accept my apologies for doing it in front of his daughter. If it helps, my kids were watching from the other side of the street so they saw whatever it was too.
Notice the return of the cowbells. Every time we get ready to go to a race, the boys lament that they’ve ‘lost’ their cowbells and then they somehow make an appearance right before we’re ready to leave. Mysteriously, they always disappear again when we get home from races.