I don't know what's scarier, Halloween, or the fact that the Philadelphia Marathon is under three weeks away and my training has been horrible this year! Just to rub it in, look at my logged kilometers of yearly training, as of today (no joke):
Hope you guys didn't miss me too much! Unfortunately, my motivation to write in this sophomore edition of LIRITW has been something like my motivation to train this year, which is to say: sadly lacking. And so in this episode I will dig deep to provide you all with an episode that is purely sophomoric...
I woke up in a cold sweat and stumbled to the bathroom. I must have been in a political hangover. The farcical Supreme Court nomination process had come to a conclusion, so where else was I going to get my daily fix of drama? Where else could I find an Irish guy who likes beer and was a freshman on Yale's Old Campus in the '80s? Then, as I gazed into the bathroom mirror at the face staring back at me, I sighed in relief. The world will be okay, after all.
Although I am indeed also an Irish* guy who likes beer and was a freshman on Yale's Old Campus in the '80s, just in case you couldn't figure that one out, alcohol is not a large part of my life. It certainly was not when I was a freshman; I fully abstained back then, but I have many stories for another time of the hijinks of my far less prudish roommates.
* 9 percent Irish, according to my recent Ancestry DNA results. Lower than I expected, but I'm still way past the Liz Warren genetic threshold!
Yeah, I like beer. There's something about the fall season and my increased enjoyment - a few of the varieties I've sampled during Oktober:
There's a lot of discussion out there about beer as a post-race recovery beverage. Many 5K races I've finished feature a post-race hangout at a nearby pub, and they often hand out pint glasses as keepsakes. I only occasionally partake in these activities. My preferred post-run beverage is, of course, chocolate milk*, which has been long touted for its muscle recovery powers.
* Under no circumstances are you ever to refuel with milk without chocolate, you dogwhistler!
Coming back to Halloween, I've always enjoyed the season. I would have dressed up this year, but my preferred costume was pulled from the shelves before I could order one! Instead I dressed as a jogger.
I took a chance on a haunted hayride at a local farm, and it was pretty fun on a chilly night. A tractor pulled our wagon along a trail that wound past graveyards, gallows, and other frightful scenes. One memorable portion featured a bunch of rednecks* who left their campsite to chase after the wagon waving American flags and firing off shotguns -- the noise was startling!
* A brilliant casting, if I do say so myself. In the state of Massachusetts, I'm hard pressed to think of anything that could frighten the public more than a Deplorable!
You met Nightpelt the cat last year. As a member of the black cat guild, he's away haunting with witches this evening... so until next time, trick 'r treat from our other feline pals: Oreo the butler and Zilly the sailor!
On the bank of a broad part of the brook,
where the water ran deep and black,
was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod,
and close beside it a shattered pumpkin.
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