Went on a run with my friend Johnnie

Somethings I will never understand:

• How to ask for directions
• Not to play with fire
• How the stock market works
• Where oats, green beans, and barley grow

Now you can add "Don't mix Johnnie Walker and running" to that list.

Friday night was a going away party for one of the people in my office. Who picks a Friday for a work party? I have no clue. But when I give the bartender my credit card to open up my tab, she says there is a $25 minimum. No problem with meeting that minimum since, like any good NYC bar, a (half-empty) glass of Black Label here is $9. And there's no real problem with having three glasses of whiskey because we stopped for pizza before hitting the bar. The problem here is that I'm planning a six mile run the next morning.

So over the course of the next hour and change I throw back the three glasses of whiskey. Then, as I'm about to head out to meet my wife, my coworker pulls me over and says to have a shot with him since he has yet to meet his $25 minimum. So I down a kamikaze with him and get out of there before any more alcohol gets in my body.

The second I get home I pass out. No water, no food, just go straight to bed--well, couch, then the bed. Rock starness personified.

The next morning I wake up with a mild stomachache, but it comes and goes and is more annoying than painful. I drink my weight in water, take a shot of GU and then head out for what I keep telling myself is going to be a nice six miles.

One mile into the run I realize the whole thing was a bad idea and just want to crawl over to a bench, curl up, and take a nap. But even if I convinced myself to do that, I couldn't. It is 39 degrees and windy--and of course I am wearing shorts. So stupid. Who wakes up hung over, puts on shorts, goes running in freezing weather, and does a hilly six mile run? Well, I do. This reeks of the bee sting fiasco at the Baltimore Marathon, except this pain is self inflicted.

I take walking breaks after miles two, three, and four. Although by mile five I must have sweated out all the badness because I started hauling some serious ass at that point. I finished with an average pace of 8:40--not exactly the 8:00 I was hoping for. But I finished, which was enough of a battle to make up for those extra 240 seconds.

I'll consider this a lesson, although I can't say I've learned anything: I am simultaneously starting my training for the Austin Half-Mary and starting the holiday party season. Johnnie is one tough SOB when he teams up with his friend Tryptophan.