Rounding the buoy

One of my favorite moments in the history of moments was when I rounded the buoy in my kayak. That was the instant that I realized the wild screams from the shore were my teammates. They were a rainbow of spirit. If I hadn't been painfully exhausted, I might have been embarrassed.

Ghetto Pig, our heroic driver, was waving the Better Lovers hoodie as if she were a literary gust of wind. NicUnCool, our official videographer, was recording my really, really, really fast approach to the shore. All of the teammates were hollering accurate statements like, "WE ARE GOING TO WIN! KEEP GOING! YOU ARE IN FIRST PLACE! FIIIIRRRSST PLAAAACE!"

I wanted to blow an extravagant kiss for the camera, but I knew that if I stopped paddling, I wouldn't start again. (Seriously. Kayaking those choppy three miles was the most physically exhausting thing I have ever done.) So, I wooted. "Wooooot!" is what it sounded like.

Then I plssshhhhed onto shore, wobbled out of my kayak, weaved to the bell, and rang it. Hurrah! We had finished Ski to Sea! But then someone important told me my timing chip didn't scan, so I moseyed back a few feet, rescanned it, and then returned to ring the bell again. Double hurrah! Bell of Glory! Life is so good!

Who's down for next year?