Remember two weekends ago when I said I was going to run the length of Manhattan? Due to an alarm clock fail, that actually didn’t happen. I woke up about an hour before my game, which gave me just enough time to take Cop around the block, throw my stuff in a bag, and hop on the train for the 45-minute trek to Inwood. As it was, I was a few minutes late (along with a couple of other teammates) and for a minute, it looked as though we wouldn’t have enough people to field a team. Fortunately, a few other stragglers made it at the last second, as well, and the 9 of us played some solid ultimate. Unfortunately, our lack of subs made the difference in the second half, which was pretty much the case for most of our season, and we got knocked out in the first round. Naturally, a few of us decided that after a tragic loss, the next logical step was to take advantage of the bottomless mimosa brunch at Indian Road Cafe, the adorable little restaurant around the corner from the fields. For the record, they have some of the best home fries in the universe. Also, did I mention bottomless mimosas?
At first, I was optimistic. I thought it was early enough in the day to have a mimosa or two, take a nap, then go for a long evening run to wrap up the weekend. Then torrential downpours arrived. Then more mimosas arrived. Rinse and repeat. Somewhere around round number 4, it dawned on me an evening run wasn’t going to happen. Somewhere around round number 5 (and maybe again at round number 7), they tried to bring us the check. Somewhere around round number 10, we threw in the towel.
On mimosas, that is. Naturally, after a tragic loss and 10 (ish?) rounds of mimosas, the next logical step was to buy a bunch of cheap beer, head back to fields, and heckle as much as possible during the championship game. We may have lost during the first round, but I’m pretty certain we won the sideline party that day. Congratulations, by the way, to whomever the winning team actually was. I’m still a bit fuzzy on those details…
Side note: This is not the first time I’ve exercised poor judgment with regards to mimosas. Exhibit A, from my trip to California in July.
Don’t judge. You’d celebrate the same way the morning after an NKOTBSB concert with these lovely ladies:
I’m pleased to report that my more recent mimosa indiscretion was much, much kinder on my bank account.
I woke up Monday with a killer headache and a bit of regret, particularly with regards to missing my long run that weekend. I spent Monday evening retooling (yet again!) the next three months of training. Ultimately, I decided that I could just repeat the week of training I’d just done (this time with an actual 10-mile run at the end of the week) and take out the second 20-mile run, with my finished product looking like this. When I first revamped my training plan after a month of injuries, I was mentally freaking out about being ready by marathon day and building up mileage in a way that would prevent injuries. For some reason, though, this new training plan isn’t causing any of those concerns. I think this is partly due to realizing that there are plenty of other beginner training plans that have only a single 20-mile run (like this one from Hal Higdon or this Runner’s World plan) or that are only 12-weeks long.
More importantly, I think I’m feeling more at ease after getting in a solid 10-mile pre-Irene run this past Saturday. It was muggy, rainy, and definitely not my fastest 10-mile run, but I felt pretty good afterwards. When I think about adding another 2 miles to that this weekend, I feel prepared both physically and mentally. I think I’ll be hitting up Central Park for a Labor Day weekend run, but I’m also a bit intrigued about running out to Prospect Park and back.
Either way, I’ll be steering clear of mimosas until I get those 12 miles done.