Moderation my arse

Is it wrong to celebrate the start of marathon training with a few drinks?

Let me be more specific: Is it wrong to barf on your shoes before sunset on the day you begin in earnest training for a marathon? Is it wrong to begin a day in Michigan at 6 a.m. EST with a 10-mile run and end it in Chicago at 4 a.m. CST the following day crashed out on a couch in Franklin Park amidst several crumpled, empty White Castle bags?

Answer: not if you had as much fun as I did this weekend.

From an airbrushed spider in the cleavage vicinity and a glass of wine at the Wrigleyville street fair, to many, many beers and a shrimp cocktail (sad attempt at a healthy choice) at Johnny O'Hagan's--my favorite Irish bar (so far!) in Chicago, to some other place with a beer garden and a really nice Weiss brew that was on the way to the Waterhouse where some tasty, tasty Sangria and nachos found their way down my gullet (and then back out, ew), to mowing on frozen pizzas and jello shots, and slapping asses and playing a mean game of drunken pool in a dive bar called the Fantasy Lounge (don't want to meet the person for whom that lounge is a fantasy) where my pals Woogie and Oogie organized an acoustic show, a good time was had.

Early on the strap broke on my sparkly orange top, which was fine at Johnny O'Hagan's where I could just hook the broken strap to the wrought iron fence behind me. Then the Brilliant! lass serving us tall, fancy glasses of Carlsberg suggested I break the other strap and tie the two together behind my neck. The lovely M, Boogie's friend who lives in W-ville, began her very kind role as looker-afterer of my progressively messy self by fixing my costume. God love the sisterhood. You meet a gal at 1:30, she buys you a tattoo and a beer, and by 8 she's waiting with a glass of water outside the bathroom stall, because when you excused yourself 2 minutes earlier "you had that barfy look on your face." God love you, M!

That tattoo--the one that began as a little black and red spider crawling toward my neck?--morphed into a squashed ladybug by the time I was hustling pool. A metaphor, perhaps?

Sunday kicked off at The Lincoln with Bloody Marys and pannycakes. How else is there to start the day? Oh right. A run. . . .

Woog and Oog brought me to Millenium Park where we waded in the water features and admired the gardens and gleeful children splashing about. Then Boogie joined me and we took a 2-hour stroll north along the big lake until we reached the gazebo at Oak Street beach and had a bite and a brew. It felt like we were on holiday!

A quick jaunt through Lord & Taylor and North Face and then home again home again on the train. I don't recall ever having a lovelier summer Sunday. And I didn't even get to the NYT!

This morning I arose and put in my 3 miles in 23 minutes. I guess all the drunken debauchery didn't negatively impact my running. Yay!

Boogie just called to let me know the big 10 10K this weekend is still open. Can my training handle another weekend in Chicago. . . . ?