The ironic truth about respiration and, in relation to exercise: the more oxygen we can consume and therefore fan the flame hotter and higher, the bigger the VO2max and the more we can detroy ourselves. I hit the miles pretty good this past weekend but was pleased to score a 77 on my post-test session on Monday. My body is feeling the increased workload lately, and a little more sleep really would hit the spot. I'm racing a 5k in Dallas this weekend and then hanging out to watch the St. Patty's day parade on the Greenville with a cooler in tow. I will be looking to hit a long run on Sunday at Whiterock Lake to keep the spring buildup in line. I hope to be ready for some longer racing, maybe a 1/2 marathon, maybe a full, maybe an ultra before the summer heat sets in.
That would be the theme for last night's outing to OKC with der boys. The trend of feeling off continues to overwhelm and I can't help but chalk it up to the "smorgasboard effect." Contemporary wisdom tells us that fusion is all the rage and who am I to blow against the wind? At some point however, I think that can lead to an assemblage frought with gastronomic peril and, worse, something that gives little Scotty D a tummy ache. Cue the scene, we had put down a few stouts and pale ales prior to departure from Stu's. I, of course, was lauded for my incredible driving ability over the perhaps 2 mile route to Cheever's. Upon arrival we ordered a couple bottles of vino and some apps. I think this is where the trouble began. The first combo would be the Malbec/Hummus/Fried Calamari/Pinot combo only to be outdone by the proceeding Merlot/Nacho/Pecan, Chocolate,& Ice Cream Ball conglomeration. Stu knew something was up and opted for a jog back to the house where ...
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