Going to a restaurant in an unknown culture, even with a translated menu, can be a risky business. I'm starting to feel like Weeza from Steel Magnolias, "I can't get enough grease in my diet!" Tonight, with the best intentions, I ordered from the smaller plates section of the menu, Belger Rosti, and received an oily pancake-sized hashbrown, topped with no less than eight slices of thick cut bacon, covered in melted cheese and served with a boat of brown gravy.
Holy Geez. I don't think I've eaten so greasy since Belgium when I ended up with a sub sandwich stuffed with deep, deep fried meatball, mayo, fries and more mayo.
Grease aside, today we took it easy, as it's the day before Casey's very long race. Normally, he
expects to finish a Half Iron distance in about 5 hours. This one, he thinks will take 9 hours. Geez! Approx. 2.5 mile swim, 80 mile bike, 18 mile run. Any one part of that would get the best of me. I just kept telling Casey, "Take it easy, just enjoy the race, all you want to do if finish." But when you look at the distances...mabye that's ambitious in itself. I'll see tomorrow.
The good news is that he gets to race through this:
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