My emotion with regards to today being a good day to race: Picture me running down the carriage road with my arms waving up in the air for about, oh say 50 feet or so, then I bust into a skipping sort of thing, then a brief pause, a look around, then a sort of hybrid dance that appears to be a cross between the dance of joy of Balki Bartokomous with a Lady Gaga-esque flow. OK stop picturing this. It’s starting to get a little embarrassing. I’ll stop dancing now. But I’m so pleased.