Tuesday Wrap Up: Long Runs, Long Hangovers, Long Drives, Short Shorts

Last week started off with so much promise; by Tuesday, I'd already run 22 miles, thanks to the Memorial Day Holiday and a hankering to try running home from work one evening. I kept the effort going all the way through Thursday, when I had the day off and decided to run to Penn Station to meet Maddy upon her arrival. We had an awesome afternoon walking through Park Slope and picnicking in Prospect Park, and even went to a Cardiac Crusher Brewery tasting (more on that below) to sample some high-class home brew. By Friday morning, as I waited patiently on line to pick up my second rental car, having noted the first car had the check engine light on and erring on the side of caution, I was feeling downright sanctimonious about my mature, responsible, adult, non-fratty behavior.

And then I went back to college for the weekend.

There is a reason 27 year olds don't go to college. And that is because we are too old for it, and are completely out of touch with how to party. And I'm a beer blogger, for God's sake! Friday night I passed out while singing to - nay, serenading - a muffin in a twin extra long bed. By Saturday, all bets were off, and I discovered that drinking 367 cans of Labatt (I went to college near Canada) leaves me with Rainman-like abilities of recollection. I channeled this energy into reciting, from memory, the phone number of the local pizza establishment I had not called in 5 years and demanded they bring pizza. And breadsticks. To my dorm room.





Imagine how I felt when I woke up to this. Then imagine spending 10 hours and 20 minutes driving home, and then you'll have a good idea of why it's taken me 2 days to write the wrap up for this week.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 38 for the actual week, which is pretty good, but since I actually counted 11 of them towards last week, we're down to 27, which is not so good. I did manage to drag myself out of my (twin extra long) bed on Saturday morning for a run with a professor friend of mine, who knows me well enough to have expected me to arrive hungover. At one point, I took too big a swig from my water bottle and started coughing. Paul asked, with genuine concern, if I was throwing up. The other problem with my running on campus is that the effort took so much out of me that I couldn't muster the energy to shower, so I ruined several otherwise lovely pictures by being a sweat monger. Exhibit A:


I'm also clutching that lion like I have the bed spins. Which I probably did.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Infinity. The on-campus pub was giving them out free! If that were the case when I was a student, I doubt I'd have made it past freshman fall.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: In addition to Canada's finest, we also snagged some local beers at the liquor store near campus, and were sorely disappointed in not having been carded. We picked up Shipyard Summer, but in hindsight, should have gone for Geary's or Gritty's, since Shipyard was what was free on campus. Also, I drank a Bud Light in the shower on Friday afternoon.

But the most important beer of them all last week was the Coriander Witbier that Joe whipped up at the Cardiac Crusher Brewery. And by "brewery" I mean "in his bathtub."

Joe has made several batches of brew before, including a chocolate coffee stout he kindly let me sample out of the back of his car, which was not at all sketchy, so I was holding him to high standards going into this tasting. Joe did not disappoint. The coriander witbier (which is possibly Flemish for "wheat beer" or possibly a branding strategy Joe employed to get people to drink something he concocted in his bathroom) was a really great summer beer. Unlike lots of Belgian-style seasonals, the Cardiac Crusher brew wasn't overpowered by yeast, and instead had a nice, malty character. Plus, Joe brought slices of orange wedges, so we kept it classy while illicitly drinking out of a cooler in Central Park. If you don't know Joe and his Cardiac Crusher brews, I recommend you make friends with him.



And as proof that this is a legitimate, safe-for-human-consumption type operation, here is the Cardiac Crusher Brewery label, thanks to our own Christopher Baker:



Now that it's Tuesday and I'm mostly recovered from the weekend (my voice still sounds all throaty, so naturally I rerecorded my office voicemail greeting. I'm a sexxxxy development officer now), I'm getting back on the training wagon. Or I'm trying to, considering it'll be in the 90s for the rest of the week. I'm racing the Mini 10k on Saturday, which should be interesting because a) I have no technique when it comes to racing anything other than a marathon, and b) it's a woman's only race, and I still sound like a man. In addition, tomorrow I'm allegedly participating in Josh's painfest, which he says will be helpful given my proclivity towards short shorts, but I fear will involve crying. On Josh's part, of course, because I fully intend to expose my bare ass yet again to evaluate with the group whether or not Josh's strength exercises are working. Get excited!