I knew this streak thing was going a little too well. Let’s backtrack, shall we?
At the Oakley Mini 10k last summer, I wore the official race shirt. I’ve heard the superstition that if you wear your race shirt before and/or at the actual race, something bad will happen. But I was in desperate need of doing laundry and it was my only clean option. During the 4th mile of the 10k, my knee started seriously hurting, thus forcing me to walk the rest of the way. My time was terrible. I finished in tears. Coincidence or superstition-turned-reality? I’m sure it was those darn imbalances and lack of strength training, but I’ve learned my lesson. Avoid wearing race shirts in the future or the race superstition gods will get you and terrible things will happen. Dun dun dun…
So this brings us back to the present. Mr. Last Legs spent all day yesterday at the library, studying for his law school exams. I made a delicious dinner of whole wheat mac and cheese, sautéed kale and spinach, and blackened catfish. As I was cooking, I enjoyed a Harpoon Winter Warmer from my new Winter Classic pint glass.
pretty, no?
As I poured myself that nice frosty pint of beer, I did wonder to myself whether the “don’t wear your race t-shirt before you run a race” superstition applied to race pint glasses as well, but… BEER! And that ended that.
Mr. Last Legs and I had a lovely dinner and decided to go out for cocktails after. We haven’t done many date-y things since he started school and he was feeling good about his studying, so we thought this would be a nice treat for us. Being the cocktail snobs aficionados we are, we are on a desperate quest to find a place in Cambridge/Boston that actually makes good cocktails. Our search so far has proved fruitless. Really, Boston, what’s up with you? And why are you still serving cocktails in martini glasses? The Brooklyn snob in me is homesick for quality drinks in glasses that don’t look like props from Sex and the City.
But I digress.
The bar we chose seemed promising. For our first round, the mister had a drink that was pretty good, mine was definitely not good. It was overly limey and sweet and somehow fizzy although there was nothing carbonated mixed in. Disappointed, I tried to drink it quickly to try something new, but it was really a struggle to finish and there was something about the drink that was starting to gross me out. Miraculously, I finished, and tried another. The second drink wasn’t as appalling, but there was too much yellow chartreuse and simple syrup, which made it taste like cough medicine. On our walk home, we lamented the lack of epicurean experiences we’ve had so far in Cambridge and Boston.
My husband was ready for bed, but I was starting to feel not so hot, so I told him I was going to sit up on the couch for a bit. He went in to the bedroom, and I was left alone thinking, “Okay, I may be tipsy, but why do I feel so sick? The drink math doesn’t add up. Wait a minute… am I going to…?”
Oh, and I did. All of my dinner came back up. And then again 15 minutes later. And 15 minutes after that.
I’m certain it was from the odd mixture of alcohol, and the horrible acidity and large amounts of simple syrup. My body wanted none of it and revolted big time.
And so, here I am at 10:30 on race morning, blogging from the couch as the Winter Classic 5k is starting. I’m feeling better this morning, but quite dehydrated and not 100%. It’s in my best interest to not do the race this morning, as I don’t want to tempt fate and ralph all over runners dressed as Santa. It bums me out that I will miss this race, but my time in last week’s 5k has made me happy, so there’s no need to push myself unnecessarily. I will have to try to get out and run a mile later in the day when I’m more hydrated. Luckily, our apartment is on the race route, so there will at least be some good scenery for the next 15 minutes or so.
New race lesson learned: the race t-shirt rule applies to pint glasses as well.
On My Last Legs 