running for spite

It was pretty nice to wake up today knowing that my long run was already out of the way: No pressure to wake up early; guilt-free Bloody Mary at breakfast; no need to eat only binding foods.

I’m a little sore today, but not nearly as sore as I expected. My quads are a little stiff, and that left calf is still tender, but the critical parts of me – knees, ankles, shins – are just fine.

I even headed out for a three-turned-four mile run this afternoon, and aside from annoyingly high gusts of wind and the fact that I just really didn’t want to be running at all, I think it went well.

I’m finally beginning to realize – or rather, act on the realization of – how important it is to do those three or four mile recovery runs, especially when they are the absolute last thing you feel like doing (and especially especially when you’ve eaten your weight in baconsalmoncheeseyeggsandhashbrowns at Sunday brunch).

I do firmly believe sometimes the cure for running pain is more running. Even when your body says no.

Having said that, it is entirely not the reason I ran today. The reason I ran today is because I thought 17.5 would look a lot better on my weekly mileage report from Daily Mile than 13.5. And I needed to get my revenge on Thursday.

So. I ran for pride? For spite? Hey, whatever gets you out the door, right?

Today I’m drinking Goose Island’s Pepe Nero (6% ABV), the latest in their Vintage line of Belgian style ales. (Daily Beer Review happened to review another Goose Island Vintage yesterday, Pepe’s gay cousin, Fleur.)

Pepe is dark and roasty, with a subtle, tangy zip that makes your cheeks pucker (shut up), and a nice, earthy, black pepper finish. (Confession: I swiped those last four words directly from their website but it’s spot-on. Why think of a different way to say “earthy, black pepper finish” when that’s just what it is?)

Tomorrow: sldfkweoicnealekjfdlsfdwz. WORK BAD.


Bye now.