I am feeling no pain. That is not to say that there is no pain. I am just not feeling it. Mrs. Greyhound and I just finished having dinner and drinks with Nytro and Iron Benny. I had two scotches before they arrived and two afterward. That combined with a prodigious amount of tylenol and ibuprofen means I could walk on broken glass without feeling it.
Even though Nytro failed or refused to wash the race numbers from her body in order to rub in the ignominy of my DNS, it was one of the most authentically enjoyable evenings we have had in a long time. Benny and I were apparently separated at birth because we are kindred spirits. Nytro and Mrs. Greyhound finish each others' sentences and communicate in that freaky, female telepathy that reneders words redundant and frankly scares Benny and I more than we are willing to admit publicly.
Bloggy friends rock.
Both Benny and Nytro had a great race, and I have the pictures to prove it. The course was beautiful, the weather conditions were perfect, and if I had been healthy it would have been a wonderful day of racing. It kills me that I could not toe the line on such a perfect day.
I will get the pictures online in the next day or two, but right now, I am drugged and drunk out of my little canine mind and I aggravated my neck even further by whipping it around trying to follow Nytro's blinding speed as she rocked the course.
Next year she needs to do the half. Right? Give her some blogosphere love, peeps.