. . . and I'm back

To recap:

Tuesday--
a delightful day off from running. Clear, warm, NOT humid.

So I spent the afternoon in a beer garden with some people whose company I particularly enjoyed, including one of my favorite small children on the planet whom I was able to entertain endlessly with a black rope. Don't ask. I drank two beers. And ate a pickled egg. Didn't know they served such things in these parts. Thought it was a strictly Wisconsin thing. But apparently the Scandinavian influence flows through these parts and my never satiated craving for all things pickled was pleased.

But so here's the thing about losing weight and clean living: beer, somehow gets stronger. I was good and buzzed for a couple of hours on two beers. yay! I'm a cheap date. This is particularly good news since it's only me taking me out these days.

Also, in researching the latest story, I discovered there's a local group training together for the Chicago Marathon and they do their endurance runs together on Sundays. I can join in for $5 and they'll water, gatorade, gu and powerbar me to my heart's content all along the way. Plus I might meet some funcrazybuthealthy folks. Shake off some of the boozehounds I'm used to killing time with. Naw, I'll always be a pubclubgirl at heart. The running can only enhance my drinking/dancing endurance, right?

Made the mistake of watching Fat Actress on DVD. Made the mistake of continuing to watch it. How can something so bad be so hard not to watch? Damn.

Watched Million Dollar Baby. Inspired.

Wednesday--
met TTT for a good, hard upper body workout. Still had a 6-mile pace run to get in. It's hard to know which to do first. When I run first, I'm pooped for the weights. When I do the weights first, I'm pooped for the run. Ideally I should lift on days off from running, but it's not working out schedule-wise.

So. I decided to try out the treadmill.

Hate it. Can only stare at the wall for so long despite the terrific music on the ipod. Did a 2-mile pace run on the treadmill without pulling out my hair. Then switched to the ARC machine and did 3 miles of intervals while reading useless but entertaining magazines. Burned 700 calories according to the machines and gawdknowshowmany with the lifting.

This is why I felt no guilt about eating turtle ice cream pie and a half slice of chocolate cake with dinner to celebrate my friend's getting married next month. Hey! I ate salmon, asparagus and a glass of white wine for dinner. I needed the carbs. Plus, it was fookin' delish, man.

Thursday--
woke up and put in 6 miles instead of the 3 called for by the training schedule. Guilt from not properly doing the 6 yesterday and the two desserts caught up with me. Glad I got up at 6 and ran early. Cuz it was hot as a muhfuggah. Then rained like mad.

Madly met deadline on shoes feature. Shoes, I said! How did I get so lucky?

Went downtown for lunch and perusal of the sidewalk sales. Watched a naked man sporting a mohawk get cuffed and hauled into a police car at approximately 1 p.m. Ringside seat from the outdoor patio at the restaurant. I wanted to grab my notebook and interview the folks so I could file the story quick. Then I remembered nobody pays me to be on top of stuff, so I enjoyed my lunch instead. Later felt sad for the naked guy, the delusional look on his face and his tiny, little, leaping package hanging all out, fixin' to get a sunburn.

Saw Wedding Crashers. Laughed shamelessly. Fell in love with Vince Vaughn in all his creepy- and wackyness. Note to self: giant, goofy guys might be worthwhile. Must move beyond my attraction to compact men. Yes, I have a gift for spotting potential; however, I can only realize my own. And nobody's getting any taller past the age of 20, no matter how big they feel on the inside.

What the hell am I talking about? Oh. Myself again.

Dang.

Looking forward to a proper workout tomorrow. TTT and 6-mile strides, here I come!