Hey. You should enter the PDX contest. It takes almost no effort from you. And you could get cookies.
New Hampshire and sobriety are two states which cannot easily coexist
My alarm went off at 6:30 Friday morning, and again at 6:39 (hooray for the snooze button). I needed to get my gear together for a trip up to the family compound, and my bru would be picking me up at 7 AM-ish to drive up. The drive up to the lake was uneventful: I was a passenger, I had coffee, and there was no traffic.
My feet were supposed to be made for running
Worked all day, then threw on my BlueSeventy Helix for a swim while my dad and bru canoed alongside and fished. I made sure to try and stay ahead of them, lest they catch me. Back on shore, I found my nephew had arrived and was ready to fish. We fished for a bit (I caught a singular tiny rock bass) and I snared my lure on some rocks. As I was going to recover the lure, I misjudged my footing on a rock and lost my balance, slicing my right heel and getting some awesome rock rash on my left shin. At this point, there was no way I’d be able to get in my run with my heel in that shape.
My left leg was all scraped up, but the cut on my heel has messed up my gait.
After dinner and a few beers and some gin, my brother arrived with his girlfriend and we decided to have a Beirut tournament, with the two Princetonians going up against the Harvard kid and the Brit. We lost the first game, but then cruised through games two and three. I may have run through the house arms up in the air doing the Chariots of Fire theme. Maybe. And then, I went to bed.
Ready to roll out
Saturday was set up for a brick ride. Bru and Lankford started a ride together with me, and then we parted ways as I got to the meat of the training. Rode
out into the sticks along a road I knew pretty well, and as I got out there I realized my water was barely going to last the entire ride. I was a bit stupid and hadn’t brought any cash or cards with me, so there was no way I could stop at the country store or a gas station to refill in case of a bonk. Perhaps worse… I had Lump
stuck in my head. Passed by the White House again and I’m still confused by the sign. The house is indeed white, but that is not rare like Mr. Pine’s Purple House
It’s not even all white!
Despite all of that, I crushed my intervals and got back up to the house where I was able to rehydrate and take in some calories… consider it a long T2. Then I threw on my Pearl Izumis and Swiftwicks to see how my heel would hold up. Hit the first mile in 6:22 (target of 6:30), tried to drop down to 6:15, and after a quick bathroom break, I narrowly missed it. My attempt at a 6:00 mile failed (a couple of stops) and then I finished with an “easy” 7:15 back up to the house. I was cooked.
Recovery was a swim out to the floating dock with a Long Trail IPA in one hand and my camera in the other. The lake my parents live on was having their annual boat parade (now with Pirate Theme!) so my oldest nephew and all my brothers joined my on the dock for the festivities. Afterwards, I swam back to shore as my beer was empty. I had a few more, then a coworker stopped by and I shared a couple. Then some of my sisters’ friends and their families arrived and I had more beer and some ribs and chicken.
Thirty minutes before the fireworks, we lit road flares, as did all of the neighbors. I have first (degree burn on my) hand experience that they burn hot (protip: place flare firmly in the ground before lighting it).
We all adjourned to the dock for the firework show and somehow I ended up without a wine glass. However, I am a terribly classy individual so I decided that drinking from the bottle was fine by me. I explained to my nephew how fireworks… work, while ruing the fact that we had no fireworks of our own.
After the show ended, my two brothers-in-law (would the abbreviation be BsIL or BILs?) and I sat around the fire pit
(now with fire!), finishing another bottle of wine (well, actually Lankford had beer, bru and I split the bottle).
Together, you and I are going to make the greatest single contribution to science since the creation of fire.
And that’s when I got my only really stupid injury of the weekend: I tried to move one of the logs on the fire with my hand. Mind you, I didn’t touch the log where it was on fire, but it was still hot enough to burn my middle finger pretty well. And then… we had the fire put out on us (granted, the fire was supposed to be put out at 11 but it was so tiny at that point we were going to let it go on its own) and I retreated to the safety of my room to
Sunday morning I woke up at 6 am, and tried to stave off my hangover by staying in bed. That was less than successful (toddlers are loud and they wake up early). Joined the rest of the family and decided to avoid the dehydration issues that have been plaguing me of late. Had multiple sodas, read the NYTimes out on the deck with the rest of the adults, and generally tried to move as little as possible. Ate lunch, then got on my bike for a quick 10 mile ride around the lake, up the hill into town and then back to the house. Afterwards, my brother and I kayaked and his girlfriend and my oldest sister canoed. We paddled across the lake, said hello to some fellow lakegoers, and then paddled back in time to beat the storm and see the kick off of the Euro2012 final. Watched that, packed up, and came home for my long run. On the way home, I stopped at the liquor store to pick up a few bottles of my favorite wine. Because while I might not have many wine glasses at home, I’m totally ok drinking from the bottle.
Take an educated guess as to what it’s called.