Well, that's it then. Just like that. And it always happens. Week five rolls around and its actually dark like dark dark for the first time and you're like shit well I gotta get to the line early like I said I would once and you forget about it for a sudden "RACERS READY PHEWWWWT". I think my heart rate is actually higher before the whistle compared to 45 seconds in. ANYWAY. SEE? It's incredibly and wonderfully easy to wash asunder on the shores of minutiae when thinking about cross and the details therein, time travels way too fast and hey pass me a beer. PSST. I'm just gonna have a sit down for a second. Yaaaawn. Let's go get burritos. Just like that. Gone for the year. Shit, already?!
There's not much to say already that hasn't been said. Plus, I'll save all that for the awards party. Which you'll be attending RIGHT? I will say it was a great year and that's s because of what you all did. You showed up every night with a stoked flame in your radness hearths, ain't no putting that out. And when you all stood at the start line in the pouring rain like that it was hard for ol' shrimp eyes to tell if it was you or your headlights glowing. There was also lots of moisture of my glasses, from the rain I WASN'T CRYING I SWEAR.
I have lots of thanks to give. But I'm keeping it short: Thank you weekly volunteers. Thank you Obra. Thank you Clint. Thank you anyone else behind the tape and laptops and clipboards, officials, people with walkie talkies, people who loaned trucks, all the other photographers, vendors and everyone else I know I forgot. You are of paramount importance to the existence of this series, and we infrequently laud you with praise. Thank you again. We could not have such an esoteric rager weekly without you.
Everyone else: we've got work to do for next year. The bar is set up there real good like.
See you at the Crusades.