Chimay All the Way

The fridge has been empty for the last two-and-a-half weeks. Not empty of food, of course. The furnace is still burning bright and the weeks still seem to require an extra trip to the grocery store at lunch. No, I’m talking beverages of the alcoholic persuasion.

I try to cut back on the beer during my training but feel compelled to celebrate the successful long run with some brand of tasty beer that does not have the words “light/lite” in the title. But I decided to go dry, prohibition-style a couple weeks ago after my last 20-miler.

It hasn’t been too tough. Only the occasional curious looks from friends when having dinner out before going to a Caps game. Then I tell them why and it seems to be an acceptable decision…though I could have used one after last night’s game one OT loss to the Canadiens, but I digress.

There is one thing waiting for me in the fridge, though, that I purchased at the store last weekend: a big beautiful bottle of Chimay red. I first had this at my favorite pre-Caps game restaurant, Matchbox, so called because it is indeed narrow like a matchbox. If not for the throngs of people waiting outside for a table, you could probably walk right by it.

My next time ordering it was at a mussels and frites joint in the Capitol Hill area of D.C. that has pages and pages of sweet sweet beer from all over the world.

I’ve managed to work myself up into quite a mess of nerves this week, particularly with the IT anxiety I’ve suffered since last Saturday.  Let me go ahead apologize to my wife and colleagues.  One of my coworkers was sitting in my cube when she broke off from conversation, paused, then narrowed her eyes.  "You have no idea what I'm saying do you?"
"Huh?"
"What if I just quit?"
"You didn't did you?"
"No, but, I could and all you'd hear is 'IT band, IT band, IT band.' "

Ahh, harsh but fair.  So I've tried to simplify things, you know, stay positive.  I've focused on things like the jacket, seeing my family at the finish (no matter how long it takes me to get there), the post-marathon shower, my massage on Tuesday...and this big, red bottle of Trappist beer.

Now comes the waiting game.  I'm packed.  My belly is full (but not too full) of a nutrient rich dinner.  My bag of snacks is bulging, and dare I say, my IT band is much better than it was five days ago.

All that's left is to run this thing.  We head out, Boston bound, tomorrow morning.  The Saturday agenda calls for a visit with grandparents-in-law, college friends for an early dinner, and hopefully hotel bar to catch the Caps game before an early bedtime.  Most importantly, I'm trying to relax, take everything of this experience in, and stay out of my own head.