At least 6 stings here, all still itching, all on the first lap. Nice bit of improvisation by the marshalls to work around it, the extra climb around the nest was so painful I reckon they should have given us a line choice (would Sir prefer to be stung to death, or perhaps Sir would like to have his own legs sting him to death?).
Abiding memory is going to be rattling down the final bit of singletrack to the finish line, and suddenly hearing this quiet voice from behind saying she'd like to pass (and as soon as there was a passing spot she was gone).
WCA, think I put my back out loading the start/finish arch into your van (couldn't possibly have been due to the racing!).
Any reports from the party afterwards?