Another weekend has come and gone, but it was once again a fun-filled two days. I watched most of the Sox game on Saturday, a first for me. Yesterday I caught most of the Pats game, a first this year. Last night I even watched some regular television programming over at the COW abode. But let's look at the weekend in detail...
I'm Ruuuuuuning in the RainSaturday I let myself sleep until almost 11 in the AM. I had been running myself ragged and decided to treat myself to a really great night's sleep. I even put my new flannel sheets on the bed for eggstra comfort.
When I awoke, I found that during the night the temperature outside had risen from somewhere in the mid-30s to nearly 70. I went downstairs, turned off the heat, opened some windows and breathed in the sweet autumn air. You know that smell when it's raining on freshly fallen leaves. Mmm mmmm bitch.
I took my time with breakfast, read a magazine for a bit, then headed out for a short, easy run. I knew that Sunday morning was The Brock Trot, a 10K complete with all the hill trimmings so I planned on a nice easy couple of miles to keep the legs loose. Well, the warm autumn rain combined with the nice dirt roads turned a couple of miles into too many miles. Come morning this will have turned into a big mistake.
How to Guarantee FailureLadies, if you're looking to pick up a guy at a bar (or get picked up, I guess) the recipe is pretty simple. Walk up, sit down next to your top choice, smile, introduce yourself, receive compliments and free drinks, done. Any of those steps can probably be skipped and your success rate will probably be pretty good. However, screw up too many and you're S.O.L. Well, Saturday night I met a bar-fly who was so wack I'm guessing she woke up under a park bench the next morning.
First of all, I was out with JC and HECOW, enjoying the baseball game and a few orders of chicken wings. In saunters a young-ish chick who wasn't completely unappealing. She sat down right next us, ordered two shots (with $10 of her last $12). Not bad, I thought at first, but it went straight downhill from there. Her first mistake was opening her mouth.
As soon as she started talking her chances of getting anything other than an extra napkin out of us were shot. For one thing, I was the only single guy in the group, and for another she had the mouth of an ashtray, figuratively and literally. With each white trash syllable that came spewing from her ash hole, you could hear the cartons of Marb Reds and speed rack whiskey that had ravaged her body. Then, if you made the mistake of directing your eyes in her direction you were greeted with a "set" of teeth that pointed every which way but vertical.
I'll spare you the details of the ensuing "conversations" and instead provide you with the laundry list of things she said to dis-impressed me:
- "My fiancée ..."
- "Oh, did they cut you off?" - The only reason she could think of that I might turn down a free shot.
- "Oh, so you're on parole too?" - Too? Also, the next logical reason for turning down a shot.
- "I quit drinking for about 2 years, but for some reason I fell off the wagon." - Clearly, and you might want to grab that wall before you fall off your feet.
- When her friend went to smoke a cigarette with her boyfriend she screamed "Did they just leave? I only have $2." It was true, she showed me the two crumpled bills.
- "She's the reason I got kicked out of my fucking hotel!" - Hmm, a local girl lives in a hotel. Top choice.
- "My son..." - Nothing against single moms, but if you have a kid, no place to live and you're in a bar with your last $12, you're screwed up.
- After hearing a comment made by a Yankee fan and walking straight into the edge of a divider wall: "If I was drinking like I used to, that guy would have his throat slit by now."
It wasn't all bad, she did touch my leg.
Brizock TrizotBetween running too many miles and staying up too late the night before, I was not in prime shape for the race Sunday morning. I managed to drag my sorry ass out of bed, have some breakfast and drive over to Lenox. It was a balmy 41 degrees, and I haven't had a chance to really acclimate to the cooler weather yet. This would be a test.
I checked in, got my race shirt, my bag of goodies and a cup of coffee and headed back to the car to change into my race costume. Last year I ran in my strong arm sailor shirt thinking the rest of my crew would be in costume. They were not. This year I thought others may have taken my cue and dressed up. They did not. No biggie, I don't mind the attention.
The starting line is about 3/4 of a mile from where the festivities are held, so I had a short run to warm up. It was there that I realized I may have overdone it the day before. I had more creaks than a horror flick staircase and some would never work themselves out. I stretched and ran another few blocks to at least get the blood pumping.
After the speeches and National Anthem we were off. The trick to races is to find an attractive girl who is slightly faster than you. You then stay behind her as long as possible, improving your time while enjoying the scenery. This technique proved very useful as I passed the first and second miles well before I expected, following three lovely ladies. Eventually I lost all three of my escorts, but at that point I was in the zone.
Fast forward to the last 0.2 of the 6.2 mile race. The course comes up a hill and around a bend before you hit the 6-mile marker. Just then the finish line appears before you, complete with clock. As I got closer I picked up the pace, then noticed I had exactly 5 seconds to cross the line if I wanted to hit my target time. The crowd was literally cheering "Go Muscle Man" as I approached the finish, and as my pace quickened to a full sprint they only got louder. I crossed the finish line a second off my goal (it would be exactly my goal time once they adjusted for my chip time instead of the gun time) to a cheering crowd, something I have never before experienced. It was AWESOME!
The lady at the finish who takes the chip off your shoe was having trouble with my safety pins, and I very nearly threw up on her. After pushing with everything I had, then instantly stopping, my body was shaking and ready to revolt and this woman was going to feel the wrath of that revolt if she didn't hurry. Just in the nick of time she got the chip off and I was able to walk it off, eat a bagel and grab a water. Close call.
New 10K personal record (PR) for yours truly: 42:30 (6:50 min/mile).
Eat at Joe'sYou know that Normal Rockwell painting, "The Runaway"? As I learned yesterday, that was set in Joe's Diner, a small eatery in Lee, MA. As we sat there having breakfast after the race, I noticed the photos on the wall and put two and two together. They had a copy of the painting, a photograph of the kid and the cop, and another of them 30 or so years later. Pretty neat.
Over and Out,
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