Thursday, February 23, 2012

Fighting the Good Fight

In the 10 days since my Complete Training Re-Think, I have battened down my psychic hatches, hunkered down in my mental bunker, posted barbarians at the gates of Will and Strength and have not had A SINGLE SLIP-UP into horrifying sobriety. I have been drunk for at least 6 hours every day for the past 10 days and I have not run even once. No, actually, I ran twice BUT! I was drunk for both of those runs. If I figure 6 hours/day of drunken-ness, that calculates into 42 hours/week of training...totally annihilating my old weekly training average.

I may be onto something...or something may be onto me, but I've never been one to let my guard down, so let the chips fall where they may...ideally into my mouth. and covered in salt and vinegar.

As I stare off the into the horizon from my perch atop Mount Terrific, I can see the ominous storm clouds of Brutal Monday accumulate along the coast, slipping silently into the Valley of Get-Your-Shit-Together...heading directly towards my carefully constructed bastion of all that is pale, bearded and slurry.