Martinis and Marathons
Last Thursday DC Dave was in town and invited me out for dinner with a bunch of Sales people. We were at a relatively swank restaurant in my 'hood and were waiting for a table, so I ordered a martini (Grey Goose, straight up, olives, very cold). I have fond memories of my first martini - it was on my 28th birthday at Daniel, also waiting for a table, and I decided I could be Grown Up and order a martini, and that at a place like Daniel it'd probably be as good as I would get anywhere. For better or worse, it was delicious. Anyway, while I can remember the first time I had a martini, on Thursday I couldn't remember the LAST time I'd had one, so I decided to splurge.
It should be noted here that a martini is not a slippery slope to drunk. As Bob put it, it's a big hole. And I stepped right into it, voluntarily. My martini was followed by a glass of Zinfandel, which was followed by the dessert cocktail (which was SUPPOSED to be shared with the other three people at my table, but by the time it arrived one person had left, another was on her way out, and DC Dave is, apparently, a lightweight). I made the sacrifice and drank 'er down, because I am just that generous.
Those drinks were followed by a shared bottle of wine at BP:LE, which was followed by a late bedtime (1:30 a.m.) and an early morning. By 4 p.m. on Friday I was considering freebasing coffee to get the caffeine into my bloodstream faster, and I was asleep by 9:30 on Friday night.
Despite that tale of woe, Saturday morning I managed to haul myself up to Central Park at 7 a.m. to run - GET READY - 18 miles! The last two of those were particularly tough, and I did think about the martini (and the subsequent fermented beverages) and figure that with 47 (yikes!) days left, I'd better stick to that promise I made back when there were 60 days to go and lay off the tasty beverages.
But I'll tell you right now that November is going to be a fun month.
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