Boston Training, Day 2

(Don't worry; I'm not going to do this for the next 112 days. Probably.) (Also I just used a pencil and paper to multiple 16 x 7 and am really quite proud of myself that I remembered how.) (And now is the part where someone points out in the comments that I did that math wrong.)

Yesterday being the first day of actual running on my Boston training plan, I woke up bright and early to get my mileage in before heading back to the city to help my sister find a wedding dress.* Santa brought me lots of great running things that I got to test out, including a new running top from Nike, and Nike sunglasses. "Santa" lives in Oregon, and as such, frequents Nike.




Unfortunately I've been eating so much popcorn/candy/cookies/bologna sandwiches over the holidays that I'm pretty sure some other runners saw me and thought to themselves "It's so great that that pregnant chick is out exercising!" And just in time for my vacation!

On that: tomorrow I'm going to St. John for a week with IMan and his friends (and my friend Leslie. Thank God for Leslie). True story: last night at dinner with my family, IMan kept leaning over and telling me he was going to be "the MVP of drunkenness" on our trip. Swoon. Anyway, I'm probably going to be pretty busy bailing my boyfriend out of Virgin Islandian (that's a word) jails, so you may not be hearing from me. Don't be too sad. Instead, look forward to all the great, alcohol-fueled stories I'll have upon my return. Oh yeah, and running-related ones too. Meh. Whatever.

If you're the resolution making type, make some good ones - that I can siphon off as my own, since I'm not really that committed to New Year's Resolutions. So far all I've got is:

Be the Pippa Middleton to my sister's Kate at her wedding



But that will happen naturally (look at us beauts!) so that's not really a resolution. Any suggestions?

Happy New Year, kids!

*For those wondering about the Kleinfeld experience: we did not see Randy (sadness); however, Joan with the warbly voice took Liz's measurements and was really nice. Liz's consultant, Renee, took us into the stockroom to pick dresses with her, so perhaps they only prohibit the riff raff girls who go on Say Yes to the Dress to go back there, not classy broads who are basically the Connecticut version of the Middletons such as ourselves. And Renee really did ask Liz, "is this your dress?" Liz panicked and screamed "I don't know!" but ultimately did say yes to it. And it's way prettier that Duchess Katherine's.

Boston Training, Day One

Rested. Ate a bologna sandwich (another gift to myself). Got a pedicure. Drank wine. Watched football.

Holy shit, I'm AWESOME at marathon training.

Sunday Wrap Up: Our Gifts To Ourselves

Before all the stockings were emptied and the presents were unwrapped and eggs were cooked and cookies were eaten, before all the Christmasing happened in our house this morning, I snuck out for 8 cold and hilly miles. And with them, I hit 1700 running miles this year.

1701, technically, because I'm not very good at math.

Seven states, three marathons, two marathon PRs, one ultra, my first age group place, my first win, and my highest mileage ever. And the Giants beat the Jets yesterday. I must have been very good this year, because those are all pretty excellent presents.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 33. With lots of long hours at work, I only had 4 days of running this week, but it felt good to get some decent miles in, especially with Boston training starting tomorrow. Surprise! Mondays are rest days! I love Boston training already!

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 10. Ish. I may have also had some Bailey's last night...

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Bud Lights (lots of Bud Lights...), Sam Adams Winter Lager, and Pearl Street Lake Effects IPA, which is delicious (full brew review to come, probably tomorrow, because another gift I gave myself was 10 days of vacation). Thanks, Uncle John!

I hope Santa was good to you today, but I hope you were good to yourself too. Treat yourself to a run. And a beer. Merry everything. Cheers!

Wake Up Call

Let me begin by mentioning that I appear to be the only person born after 1980 who uses an actual alarm clock to wake up in the morning, as opposed to a cell phone.  I've had the same alarm clock since my freshman year of college, and while it bears the scars of duct tape (from being adhered to the bed post of a twin bed that was lofted atop 2 dressers), it hasn't failed me in nearly 10 years (I'm ancient).  Plus, the broad, boxy, three dimensional, non-touch screen buttons allow me to make a dramatic gesture of flopping my arm out of bed and slamming it down on the snooze button, like I'm some harried sitcom star. 

This morning, like clockwork (get it?!) the alarm went off and I flopped my arm out of bed and onto the top of the clock.  But for the first time, I didn't feel anything.  I flopped and flopped and flopped and the clock continued to beep and beep and beep.  My hand was totally asleep and therefore useless in accurately hitting snooze.  In my groggy state, I at first thought I was paralyzed.  Yes, even though I could move my arms...  Anyway, next I thought maybe it wasn't my alarm.  But I looked at the time and knew that I was in fact the person who had set it for 5:40.  Finally, I unearthed my other arm from the covers and turned the alarm off.  This whole process probably took a full two minutes, by which point I was so wide awake from the blaring alarm clock that I didn't need my usual 20 minutes of acclimating myself to civilized, waking life, and instead promptly got dressed and had time for nearly 9 miles in Prospect Park before work. 

Take away lesson: People often ask me how they can train themselves to wake up and work out in the mornings.  My experience indicates that giving yourself a Stranger is an excellent strategy.

Monday Wrap Up: 3 State Shuffle

While the wine and Drambuie hangover that plagued me for much of the day Saturday wasn’t awesome, and the Giants’ continued late-season choke jobs are getting old, pretty much all other aspects of me weekend were spot on.


I headed up to Boston on Saturday afternoon for a lovely party at Caroline and Chris’ place to celebrate their upcoming matrimony, and also evolution, since the party was heavily attended by biologists. Our hosts were amply supplied with beers and Stromboli, so I was quite content. After about 15 hours in the great state of Massachusetts, I made my way back down to Connecticut with a bag full of gingerbread men, and enough time to log some miles on the treadmill while watching the aforementioned choke job. I swear, I could run a marathon on a treadmill as long as I had football to watch. It’s like the magic elixir of boredom prevention. Though it does get risky to be screaming and holding one’s head in one’s hands while trying to move at a 7.5mph clip…

I finished up my run and made my way back into the city with IMan for a holiday dinner at Kelly and Juan’s, where it became apparent that my 10-plus mile run was necessary in the face of ample quantities of bleu cheese, red wine, and peppermint bark. After a few hours of friend reunioning (and watching the Jets take a page out of the Giant playbook), IMan and I headed on to our next holiday engagement: the CMA Songwriters Series concert.

I’m always on the lookout for things I think IMan would like, and when I heard about the CMA Songwriters Series, I immediately snapped up tickets as an early Christmas gift to my bearded companion.  From their website:

The CMA Songwriters Series showcases the best of Nashville's mega-hit songwriters! Each night of the series features four successful songwriters from Nashville, who line up on stage and, with guitar in-hand, take turns telling the stories behind their hit songs and performing them in the raw as originally written.

Given that we’ve twice gone to Nashville under the guise of running the Country Music Marathon or half, I thought this would be right up IMan’s alley and was really excited to take him.

The show was at Joe’s Pub on Lafayette (and despite the name, you don't actually need ID to enter, which was great, given that I left my wallet in Connecticut and therefore almost ruined Christmas...), which was an awesome concert venue. It’s small and intimate, so you can see and hear everything well. Seating is either at a bar or at communal table tops, but we were the only 2 at our table for 4. There is a dining minimum, which was a little challenging to meet given that we were coming from a dinner party, but I sacrificed by drinking 2 beers. I truly am a selfless gift giver.

Anyway, I really loved this show and think IMan did as well (it was, at the very least, an opportunity for him to wear his cowboy boots), but by the time it ended, we were very ready for bed. Boozy weekends will do that to you.

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 31. I ran 3 fewer days last week than the week before, and only one fewer mile. A week from today marks the start of my Boston Marathon training plan, per TrainingPeaks, but a) the first day is a rest day, and b) my first week is only 25 miles of running. Good thing, because that peppermint bark Kelly and Juan gave us isn’t going to eat itself.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: 10. Actual alcohol consumption severely underrepresented in that number. I had 4 holiday parties last week. That’s a lot of wine.

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week: A Bud Light or two, a few Brooklyn Lagers, a few Sixpoint Righteous Ryes, a few Harpoon IPAs, and my once-annual Harpoon Winter Warmer. I only drink one a year because it takes a whole year to forget that these are actually gross. I imagine if I drank the water in the Christmas tree stand, it would taste almost exactly like Winter Warmer. I think I even got a pine needle stuck in my teeth.

I leave you today with another update from the Movement; apparently, it’s catching on. Below is a photo my Dad emailed me. The subject was “Occupy Sneakers in Tod's Point.” Told you this was going to be huge.

Brew(ish) Review: Guinness Gelato

You guys, we made it. By some miracle, we didn't quit our jobs in Jerry McQuire-inspired fits of ragey bravado. We didn't get drunk at our holiday parties and tell our work nemesi they've been pronouncing our client's name wrong for a year. We didn't cry in the handicapped stall. It's Saturday, and we made it through the work week.

This was an especially trying one for me, so when quitting' time rolled around, I was out the door and off to Connecticut, eager to unwind over dinner with IMan. He also had a stressful week, so our plan to finally use a gift certificate from my parents for a dinner and wine pairing at Strada18 was perfectly timed.

Dinner was really good, and the manager, Henry, was super attentive and made some great wine recommendations for us. But that's not what I'm here to talk about, because I don't write a wine blog (more like a whine, blog, amirite?). When it was time for dessert, IMan took a look at the menu and said "I think you should have A Beer and A Shot."

Guinness Gelato. Shot of Drambuie. Sold.

Interjection: my family has something of a history with Drambuie. I could be getting parts of this story wrong (please correct me in the comments, Mom and Dad), but as I've been told, my mom attended a party at my dad's apartment in college, and brought a set of pilsner glasses as a host gift. I don't quite know the impetus for what happened next, but evidently one of my dad's roommates spent the evening drinking Drambuie by the pilsner glass. His coordination must have been affected (you think?), so by the end of the night he had broken them all. Then i believe he spent the rest of the night throwing up (you think?), and the apartment stunk like Drambuie for ever after. If you've never smelled Drambuie, count your blessings. If you have, you can imagine what it might have been like to drink a pilsner glass of it. My parents shudder at the mention of the word, and we've never had it at home or at a restaurant, so until last night, I'd never tasted it.

Back to dessert: I figured this dessert would be served with a shot on the side, which I would make IMan drink because of the aforementioned family history. But when dessert arrived (his was white chocolate bread pudding with passion fruit sauce, which was also good if a little tart, but I'm not a food blogger either and as you can tell didn't spend our date photographing our plates, so what do I know?), it was served as two scoops over Guinness gelato in a pool of Drambuie. And good God, was it delicious.

Guinness is among my favorite draft (excuse me, that's draught) beers; it's thick and somewhat milky and subtly sweet, vaguely reminiscent of a chocolate milkshake. But it's very light for a stout, so you're not left feeling stuffed and bloated. So it would make sense that the flavors translated well when put into gelato form, and given that gelato is often served as a palate cleanser between courses as opposed to an over-the-top, decadent dessert, it seemed like a natural fit. And was it ever. The sweetness and chocolate were apparent, but not so much that this could have been two scoops of chocolate gelato. The warmth and subtly of the Guinness definitely held up, even in a cold dessert. And it wasn't rich or filling. I thought the Drambuie actually was what took it from "mild palate cleanser" to "dessert," given the syrupy consistency and strong, liqueur flavor. I don't know a lot about alcohol outside of beer, so I can't speak to the flavor profile of Drambuie beyond "that tastes like booze!," but I bet this would also work with Frangelico or another nutty liqueur as the shot. Or go the classy Car Bomb route with Jameson. Oh my God, I want it for breakfast.

An Update From the Frontlines of the Movement

Since we last spoke, I have managed to add 14 miles to my weekly total. I also managed to spend close to 12 hours at work yesterday, and didn't suffer a psychotic break. Except for suggesting to my boss that we dress as picnic tables to attend a meeting with a home decor company this morning. And begging him not to leave me alone in the office last night by saying "just sit here and tell me a story while I finish these emails."

Anyway, as promised, I Occupied Sneakers on the treadmill last night, and followed that up by Occupying Sneakers in Prospect Park this morning. I plan to Occupy Sneakers in Connecticut this weekend. Isn't it great how this Occupy movement can take place anywhere? I'm so smart for thinking of it yesterday.

 

Occupy Something

Oh, hey. You probably thought I'd died of a cheese-fry-or-endurance-sport-induced heart attack, or fell victim to the Preppy Killer after a night of pounding beers uptown, or maybe even gave up drinking and blogging and doin' it in favor of dedicating my life to religious studies. If you thought the last one, you must be new here.

Or maybe you thought none of these things, and instead are now thinking, "Girl, we heard from you 4 days ago. That means you're a shitty blogger, but not that you're a born again virgin (I mean, just a regular, always-have-been virgin, Dad...)"

Either way, I feel like I've been out of my running and blogging element this week. As of this fine Thursday morning, I've run precisely once this week, for a whopping total of 6 miles. (Though I am an ultramarathoner). I've spent the rest of the week alternately slaving over grant applications, weeping under my desk, and eating my feelings. Okay, and drinking. Sixpoint Righteous Rye, let's snuggle under the covers together.

Oh, I also spent 85 minutes trapped on a subway under the East River. I tell you that in an effort to garner some sympathy, but really it wasn't that bad. I had a seat and an iPad, so frankly I could have stayed down there all day. But it wasn't necessarily something I'd have chosen to include in my schedule.

Fun and healthy as that all sounds, I'm being to lose it. Not because I'm all, "Girl, I go crazy if I can't be doing my healthy living thing! I need to run and eat produce and breathe non-recycled air." I like all that stuff, sure, but I have a pretty high tolerance for ordering take out at my desk (and my exercise ball chair is collecting dust, so I could use that to pound out a few crunches...). Mostly, I don't like not being in charge of my own schedule and feeling like I don't have time for the things I want to do. To some extend, it comes with the end of year/holiday territory; loose ends at work needs to be tied up, parties need to be attended, obligations need to be fulfilled. And while we all do great things for our company/friends/family/charity, especially as the year comes to a close, we need to be doing great things for ourselves too. Being selfish rules!

So I'm starting a new movement. Occupy Sneakers. I have a feeling this one's going to be huge, and I'll pepper spray any who disagree. I'm going to have to work late tonight, which can't be helped. But after that, I'm making time to drag my (increasingly expanding) ass to the gym, to spend some quality time on the treadmill. Because exercise is good for you, but because my particular passion happens to be running. But doing something you love doesn't have to be fitness-y and shit.  I also love beers, so perhaps after I run, I will Occupy Sixpacks.  Maybe your passion is doing crossword puzzles. Carve yourself out some time in the midst of everything else to do that. Occupy New York Times Arts Section! Or maybe you're into playing flamenco music in your underpants. Good for you! Occupy Latin America and Lingerie! Maybe you have an interest in online pornography. Indulge (provided you and your partner are on the same page about that). Occupy YouPorn! The point is, do something for yourself, that you actually enjoy (don't, for example, schedule a dentist appointment, unless you're all about going to the dentist. Occupy Fluoride doesn't sound as cool. Occupy Advent Calendar does, though, and that'll give you a reason to go to the dentist in January).

What are you Occupying?

Sunday Wrap Up: Mission Accomplished

Late last year or early in 2011, I decided to commit to running at least one race each month this year. This morning's Jingle Bell Jog 3-miler in Greenwich, CT was my December race, and with it now under my belt, I officially made good on my resolution. No word yet on when I might start working on those 2010 plans to swear less and cook more...

I set the alarm for the way-too-early-for-a-Sunday-when-you're-Godless-and-childless hour of 7:00am and tip toed around getting on my race gear while trying not to wake up IMan, who for some strange reason did not want to wake up early on a Sunday in the winter to run a race with my dad. Weird. I headed to my parents' house with coffee in hand and collected my Dad for our race day adventure.

We've probably run this race 10 times before, and in addition to this one, Threads and Treads puts on several more throughout the year, so we knew what to expect. We found on-street parking a half mile from the start and swung into the store to find 1) a huge line of race-day registrants, and 2) no more jingle bells! Thankfully, my Dad elbowed a small child out of the way when we spied a few extra bells laying around on the registration table and hooked us up. We moved to a sunny spot to pin on our bells and hang out until the start.

Despite the long line still waiting to register at 8:30am, the race started close to the scheduled 9:00am gun time. My Dad and I hung together for the duration of the race, which starts just on the outskirts of the commercial district and wends through residential Greenwich, over 3 miles of rolling hills. This race always attracts lots of families, so while we weren't the only father-daughter duo out there, we were probably the oldest. Around 1.5 miles, we came upon a father-son team, the younger of whom patiently explained "there's no way I can run 3 whole miles!" The dad responded with, "it's okay buddy; you're doing great!" While promptly hoisted the kid onto his shoulders and continue to run. Passing us. My dad did not offer to carry me.

While my dad pointed out that our first two miles were fast for him, he said he was indeed feeling great, so we pressed on without adjusting our pace too much. Just after 2.5 miles, so runners came in the other direction and were very impressed with the child-hauling Dad, telling him he deserved to be Dad of the Year.

After cresting the last hill, we cruised back down towards the start/finish area and Dudley had plenty of kick. We came in just behind the father-son team, with the son running in for the last quarter mile and then telling the race official in the finish chute (who happens to be my sneaker store crush...) "my Dad won the Dad of the Year award!" I told my own Dad he could be runner-up for that award, for finishing just under 35 minutes. Go Dudley!

At the finish, we grabbed water and clementines and didn't feel like waiting for a mimosa, so we headed back to the car and made our way home. All in all, a great morning spend with my Dad, and a nice way to round out the Year of the Race.

Number of Miles Run This Week: 32. I actually ran every day this week, which is unusual, and I think isn't reflected in my mileage. Despite an easy-paced run today, yesterday I knocked out 4-plus miles in a 7:21 average pace, which is quite frankly blistering for me. Wednesday also saw the return of hill work (2 weeks early. Of all things that could possibly come early [sister and brother-in-law coming home, Jets-Giants game, warm weather vacation], hill work is not the one I'd pick...), with a tough 8 miler. So even if quantity wasn't anything to write home about this week, I'm at least proud of some quality in the mix.

Number of Beers Consumed This Week: 10 so far, but the Giants are the Sunday night game, and there an untouched growler with my name on it in the fridge...

Types of Beers Consumed This Week: Heineken, Blue Moon, Bud Light, Smithwick's, and one dinner order that should have been a Sam Adams Winter Ale but was almost definitely a Coors Light. Even I have higher standards than that.

Number of Awesome Naps This Week: 1. Oh my God, yesterday afternoon's nap was the best I've ever had. And it was followed by that fast four-miler. I should probably make it a regular occurrence.

Number of Crappy Naps This Week: 1. I was just trying to catch some z's ahead of the football game when the cat got on the couch with me. She's so fat we literally couldn't both fit. I tried to gently remove her with my feet but that bitch is stubborn. I ended up on the floor. Rude.

If you love me, please send winning vibes to the Giants tonight. It's all I want for Christmas. Besides a non-dead goldfish...

Wednesday Wrap Up: Wednesday? What a Slacker

Sorry it’s taken me more than 3 days to write a recap of the Beer Run, which I know you’ve only asked for (okay, I think only 2 people have asked for it…) because you want something to do at work besides your actual job.  Day one was spent feeling sorry for myself for my hangover, and for the Giants.  Despite spending approximately 12 hours in my apartment being lazy, I did not manage to use that time to write a recap – such was the magnitude of my hangover.  Day two was spent looking at everyone else’s pictures from the event, and also running, as I felt slightly guilty for having had 3 separate meals of French fries during and after the beer run.  By day 3, I was ready to enjoy a few beers again, which is what I did last night instead of writing the recap.  You see how this can turn into a problematic cycle?

I may be biased here, but I'd have to say the Third Edition of "We'll Run For Beer" was the best to date.  Great weather, 5 bars, 6+ miles of running, nearly 40 participants, and lots of newcomers.  I also think that part of what made this one so good was that, while everyone ran the route in the same order and direction, people moved on to the next stop when they were ready; not sticking exactly together and waiting for everyone to be ready meant that if you particularly liked (or didn't like) a spot, you could enjoy it at your own pace, while not moving so fast that you missed anyone at any bar.  For the past 2 "We'll Run For Beer" events, we've basically stuck together as a group the entire time.  By the latter stops, that means there's some herding cats to be done.  I think this system worked a lot better.  I'd like to credit my map print outs, thankyouverymuch.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  I started out the morning running the course once dry, as I hadn't yet done that and am nothing if not totally well-prepared.  Thankfully there were no glitches in the route (though when I mapped it on paper I hadn't considered just how sketchy Avenues C and D are...), but I did note a few places to avoid dog poop or watch out for cobblestones and confusing traffic patterns.  I also noted a couple of spots where the route could be shortened for those who were more into the beer than the running.  Different strokes.

I returned to Madison Square Park and considered getting a hot dog while I waited for the beer runners to turn up.  Slowly but surely, they trickled in: old friends, new friends, other friend's boyfriends and girlfriends, and their friends, and strangers from the internet.  I made my traditional pre-run remarks: don't get hit by cars or step in dog poop, and don't forget I am an ultramarathoner (I added that line for the first time this go-around.  Because it's true.  Which I may not have mentioned to this point.)

(Thanks Erica for this image, which captures my pre race remarks and my beer goggles)

We ran a loop of Madison Square Park and then headed to our first stop: Molly's Shebeen.

To be honest, the folks at Molly's weren't that happy to see us; 40 loud, Spandex-clad, thirsty runners take up a lot of room, and Molly's is not a large bar.  Plus, they were in the middle of serving brunch.  Perhaps they were unhappy because when I called ahead of time to let them know we'd be coming, the woman with whom I spoke had a very thick brogue and told me "We don't accept somethingsomething between Thanksgiving and Christmas," and perhaps that somethingsomething was "parties of 5 or more."  The world may never know, and Maura didn't offer her Irish translation services.  In any case, we warmed ourselves by the fire, kicked up some saw dust, had a beer, and departed for stop number 2.

(Thanks, Michelle, for capturing this shot of about half of our crew, and my EXTREME ENTHUSIASM for Nicole and Jason's arrival... 

Hop Devil was a late addition to the Beer Run course, but given our experience at Molly's and their brunch crowd, I'm definitely glad we subbed out Sunburnt Cow and added Hop Devil in its place.  I'd actually not been there before, but they had a robust beer selection and plenty of room for us to spread out.  Plus they had a red-headed, bearded bartender, so obviously I was on board.

I'm also glad that Gil paid for some Beer Run promotion and bought the rights to leave a message on the above bar chalk board.  

Thanks, Neal, for your on-the-run photography skills

Though the next stop, dba, was only a few blocks away, my map took us back east through scenic Alphabet City, onto the East River path for 4 blocks, and back over the FDR Drive into the East Village.  Is it any wonder I don't excel at running the tangents?  Anyway, some of our group took the direct route, while others of us followed the map.  Neal even threatened to run some 800s at the East 6th Street track, but thankfully we dissuaded him.  Plus he got his speed work in a mile later, when he and I engaged in a head to head 40 yard dash to the bar.  He won.  I guess I don't have a future in the NFL.  Damn.

dba came highly recommended from Brad and Neal, and it did not disappoint.  Their enclosed back patio with picnic tables was the perfect place to enjoy a couple beers and be able to rest our run-weary legs.  They also had gluten-free beer, which made Erica happy.  Their bathroom was slightly sketchy, but you can't win 'em all.  I'll definitely be back to dba.

(Again, thanks to Neal for the photo)

Stop 4 was Bleecker St Bar, which I really talked up in the sense that I talked it down.  My past experiences in this bar have all involved homeless and/or crazy people fighting in the bathrooms, but I noticed on Saturday they've posted a sign outside that indicates restrooms are for patrons only (maybe the less fortunate should go to dba...).  Plus, they have both Delirium Tremens and Goose Island on tap, so I guess it isn't all that divey.  In any case, Bleecker St was happy to have us, and had plenty of room, and we stuck around for 2 beers.

By this point, we weren't the fastest or most coordinated runners, but we made our way through Washington Square Park, up Fifth Ave, and back to Madison Square Park to the finale: Shake Shack.  I was quite surprised at how many beer runners had never been there before (and didn't know the most important trick: there's a separate line for beers!) so I was happy to hear everyone enjoyed the food (and the Smuttynose Brown Dog Ale - a personal favorite of mine) despite the fact that it was now after 4 pm and was also freezing.  Those are some committed beer runners.

Now, as for the week which the Beer Run wrapped up...

Number of Miles Run Last Week: 32.  Don't ask me how many were run drunk.

Number of Beers Consumed Last Week: Um 12?  Or 15.  And also maybe a hot toddy, according to the post-beer run photos Neal sent me...

Types of Beers Consumed Last Week:  Because people like me, I don't think I bought any of my own beers during the beer run, which means in some cases I drank whatever was generously foisted upon me (Mmm, Roofie Coolada!).  I can definitely account for 2 Smuttynose Brown Dog Ales (at Shake Shack), something from a Cask (at Rattle N Hum), a Guinness (at Bleecker St Bar), and... other beers at other bars.  It's quite shocking no one pays or otherwise sponsors me to review beers, as I am such a consummate note taker.

Thanks so much to everyone who came out for the Third "We'll Run For Beer."  It really makes me happy to be able to see so many people enjoying running and beers, even if those people don't identify as runners or beer drinkers.  And it means a lot to me personally that, of all the running and drinking activities in this fine city (and there actually quite a few), y'all show up to mine.  It was great to see you, run with you, and drink with you.  I hope you'll be back in the spring for the fourth iteration.

Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain

After more than a few iterations, the final, final, seriously-I-won't-change-it-anymore route for tomorrow's "We'll Run For Beer" is laid out for you over on the Beer Runs page.  See you at 12:00pm at the South East Corner entrance to Madison Square Park (23rd and Madison).  Dress warmly, come thirsty, and don't be weird.