I seldom suffer from post-race depression. In fact I may have never suffered from it. The City Chase has come perilously close to plunging me into a sad state as I contemplate going 360 days until the next one.
Maybe it was partially the cameras... I sort of understand why people cry when they get booted off of reality shows now. It's pretty fun to be the star. It makes your whole life seem just a bit more interesting. Don't ask me why that camera crew isn't still following me... you should see how exciting it is to watch me type!
On the other hand, I think it was the City Chase itself. Cameras don't explain why Mark and I are seriously discussing competing in Montreal in July...
Anyway, in our agonizing effort to put the experience behind us (or drag it out just a bit longer... you decide), we concluded that we needed to right a wrong that we committed on race day.
Stealing bottles from the homeless man/woman (?) definitely scored low on the ethical scale. Mark at least suggested that we leave money, which to my dismay I responded with "Can we return that Ketchup bottle?!")
Here we were yesterday making amends. Hopefully all bad karmic energy has been balanced by this...