save the boobies!
Today my kayaking group did Row for the Cure. It's the water-version of the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. It was originally started for "rowers" -- you know, crew team rowers. In skull boats, or whatever they're called. Now they let kayaks do it too, but those elitist rowers are sure to keep us in our place as the bottom-feeders of the boater community. Whatever. We PREFER it that way. Snobs.
Anyway, I wanted to post some of my own pictures that I took with my new digital camera (thanks mom!) but I couldn't load them on my computer because mom neglected to send me the USB cable (thanks mom!). So I found this pic from last year. I don't know who these chicks are, except the second from the right. That's our Chief of Police, Rosie Sizer. Does YOUR town have a chick chief of police? I didn't think so.
If I seem punchy it's because I'm exhausted. We had to be at this Row thing at 6:30 in the effing morning. WHY SO EARLY?? All we did was sign in (which took all of five minutes) then we stood around and waited until all the skull-boats were in the water, which took till nearly nine. We didn't actually start racing until well after ten and the whole race was over in fifteen minutes.
Did we actually race? We said we weren't going to race, we all said we were just going to paddle like usual. BUT... once we realized we were actually, individually, being timed, we ALL tried to haul ass. And most of us sucked. Except Kara (third place in the kayak women's 1x) and Adventure Girl (fourth place). Me? I finished ten out of fifteen. That's right baby, top of the bottom third! (Kinda like law school...) Woo-hoo! But really, you know, it's 90% the boat. Kara's got a sleek, 18 foot fiberglass boat that slices through the water like a knife through warm butter. Me? I've got the butter. I mean, I love my boat, but it's heavy and plastic and it's definitely no racer.
But NEXT year... I'm gonna get all pumped up before the race, maybe rent a racing kayak, we'll see. Next year I wanna place. Tenth just isn't good enough. Although, at least I had the best racing number. Sixty-nine baby. Ohhhhhh yeaaaaaahhh...