My stomach was feeling a little rough out there on the course today.
Look, it’s my fault. I drank a bunch of wine last night. I admit it, I own it, I take responsibility for what happened.
But in true 21st Century entitled whinge fashion, I am also going to blame my hard wired lizard brain commingling with societal norms and constructs. You see, the bottle was opened the previous night, there really did only seem to be a little left… so I poured myself a glass. But there still only seemed to be a little left. So as I enjoyed my glass, I thought, “well… I can’t just leave that not-even-quarter-glass-at-most amount in the bottle.” I mean, there are thirsty children in France who crave their wine, ya know? Who am I to waste such things. So I topped off… and there alas was only a little left. It’s the loaves and fishes only it’s a bottle of wine. Waste not, want not. So I topped off again. And again. And one last time because honestly there really was only a little bit left…
So you see, that wine sloshing around in my stomach was my fault and contributed to a rougher run. But it’s really SOCIETY’S fault too. Yes, yes… mostly mine but at least a little bit of Society’s. Maybe a little more. Maybe just a little bit more… I mean, we have to balance it out, right? So yes I’m guilty of trying to balance it out.
Still, slosh-slosh-slosh made for a tough-tough-tough 26.2 miles this morning.
And as I have written here before about the Surf City Marathon, I hate, hate, hate the mile 16.5-ish turn back from the finish line and out and back on the beach bike path. It’s just cruel and punishing and the turn arounds for the out and back always seem to be just past my breaking point. It’s a mental minefield… a MIND-field, ya know what I’m saying?
Sigh… anyhoo… the countdown continues. Three more until Boston.
And next time maybe I won’t drink a half bottle of wine the night before. It didn’t LOOK like a half bottle was left. I blame optical illusions too.
