Scottish Guiness

There are a few things in life that by themselves are great, but when mixed with another element, can only lead to trouble. Saturday night/Sunday morning proved this to me in a most unfun way. Saturday night, to celebrate my 10 mile run I went to see one of my favorite newish bands, Bloc Party. I was lucky to get a last minute ticket from my friend, Amy - thanks kid. Bloc Party was really great - lots of energy and made the people who took the hike up to Washington Heights feel like it was well worth it. Albert Hammond, Jr. of Strokes fame, was a surprisingly decent opener as well. During and after the show a few beers were had and then decision time came. To continue or to call it a night. At 11:30 on the night before a 9:30 race, the latter would have been the more prudent decision, but I ain't no prude...to the bar hommies. It was my friend, Kajan's birthday and she was awash in beer and karaoke at Keat's in midtown. Kajan was quite excited to see me - people are surprised when I come out now bc of this whole marathon thing - hello, I'm still fun! This was midnight. Before I knew it, I had run into an old acquaintance of mine and established rapport with the bar staff. Big shoutouts to Dan for keeping the Guiness flowing and to Dawn for being, well, hot and Irish (not in any particular order). After a few more drinks and a drunken rendition of "To All The Girls I've Loved Before" ala Julio Iglesias it was finally time to catch a cab. Arrival time at new home: 4 AM.

Five hours later, the sound of my awful alarm clock shocked me into a frenzied "oh shit" state. I was sure I had overslept and missed the Scotland Run race in Central Park. I'm not going to lie, I was pretty happy, thinking "oh well, at least I can sleep through this headache," but it was not to be because I then noticed that it was in fact only 9, which still gave me time to haul ass over to the Park. One month ago, I would have said "f it" and gone back to bed, but something's changed in me and I stumbled to my feet, brushed my teeth almost threw up not once, but twice, and made it to the starting line as the fast runners were starting. This was a 10K, or 6.2 miles and I was suppose to pace myself. In theory, my time should have been slower than the 4 mile race I did a few weeks back. I felt so sick from the beginning that I did the opposite. I noticed that my first mile was just over 7 minutes which for me is ridiculous, so I had to slow down. The next 2 miles were a little more normal at around 9 minutes. Mile 4 is where it became mental. I had my water and literally (and this is gross) burped the taste of Guiness. I thought about walking a mile, but I saw this 70 year old woman doing that and thought, "no way." Put the shuffle on 10 and blasted whatever upbeat song I could find. The last 2 miles were a complete blur. I really felt fatigued at the end and surprise, surprise I still somehow managaed to pull off my fastest NYRR mile pace to date - 8:42. I had a bagel, looked at people in kilts, and decided to go home and die. Guiness and running...bad. Nap and chicken parm for lunch...good. Lesson learned.

Miles Ran: 6.2
Weekend Miles: 16
Dawn: call me