"These Hot-Weather Colds Can Kill You"

Holy cow, my body is not happy with me. I figured my liver would be the rabble-rouser of the bunch but now it seems that my immune system is the most mutinous. I’m on the cusp of a lulu, I can feel it, and my current course of action is chasing Sudafed and Vitamin C with Airborne and getting a good night’s sleep.

I went out last night after running class with what has become the usual crew. We normally limit ourselves to Thursday night, but it’s M’s last week in New York and she insisted we go out both nights, so celebrate we will. I’m going to miss her – we’re just becoming good friends and her leaving throws off the guy-girl ratio. If last night was any indicator, Thursday will be a complete shit-show. After countless pitchers and a few cutthroat rounds of darts, we decided that an impromptu slumber party at R’s apartment was a really good idea. Drunk Ideas are always good ideas, especially for Coach G and his propensity for falling asleep on the subway and hours later ending up back where he started. Like the good college students that we aren’t, we stayed up way too late drinking and eating snacks from a huge care package R’s mom sent him. Man, how great are care packages? MomOh sends wonderful care packages full of individually wrapped brownies and new socks and boxes of tampons. (Hint, hint!)

When I went to take the subway home this morning, I discovered that the train wasn’t making any local stops. I had spent all my money on dinner and beer, so taking a cab was out. So I said to myself, “Self, what would Dean Karnazes do?” Good thing I was still wearing my sneakers and smelly running clothes! And that’s how I learned a valuable life lesson: Drinking until 2:30AM and then running on hungover legs a mere four hours later sucks. Hard. But for Dean (oh, we’re on a first name basis now), it was worth it.