beers make the hurt go away.

yesterday's commute north to the park brought on the rage. it was partly my fault, i admit.

it all started when i left my comfortable spot on the 6 train to hope on the 4 at union square. i should have known better - my gut screamed "don't do it! it's a trap!" and sure enough. the 4 takes off out of the station slower than my grandma (no offense nonna). [expletive!] this slowness induces an anxious, unsettled, twitchy feeling i can't stand. i get it when i'm in a car that's not moving. or when i'm waiting in line too long for something dumb.

after painfully and slowly riding up to 42nd street, a 6 (a different 6 that was behind the original one) rolled in across the platform, so i switched yet again. my bag was particularly stuffed with winter gear so i was hoping for a seat. nope. then at the next stop, someone right in front of me got up. as i let the person out and went to sit, this woman in a fur coat twice my size (the coat, not the woman) steals my seat. [expletive expletive!] i growled and glared in her general direction but she had no shame.

i got off early at 86th because i could not deal with the subway any more. and the last idiot i had to deal with was the person who was getting on the train and stood directly, smack-dab in the middle of the doors. i mean seriously people, WTF?! how many times do the conductors have to say it: LET THE PEOPLE OFF THE TRAIN FIRST. it's faster. it's more considerate, and god damn it is simply the right thing to do. so please kindly get the hell out of my way. thanks.

after all that nonsense i was ready to run off some steam. i was not however ready for the torture that ended up being training last night. i am advanced only by distance, not capable of keeping up with all the speed-demons that make up the rest of the advanced group, who literally have nicknames like "the gazelle". ~sigh~

anyway, we were basically running breaks again. run hard 97 - 90, recover down to 82, run hard down to 72, recover 72 back up to 82, run hard to 90, recover to 97. repeat. oh, and there was a warm up from 90-102 then back down to 97 before the fun began.

that was the first work out that i really really despised. i hated the sprints. i hated my shin splints. i hated that i was cold AND sweating. i hated that i was actually saying things in my head like "go deep" and "come on, you got it!" and "you can *do* this." gross. and i hated that i was so far behind everyone else. i felt like the little kid running after her friends like "hey guys! wait up! wait for meeeeeee." except i couldn't breathe enough to shout. oh what an angry day.

however, when all was said and done...it was a damn good excuse to go drink a few beers. and so we took our smelly selves down to a tavern where we enjoyed 10 pitchers of yuengling and played pool. sk8 & i took on the rookie and paco, and yes, the ladies one.

beer beer and more beer. i didn't manage to get any pizza so after it all wound down, the rookie, cap & i hopped a cab back downtown, and it was *burger time*. what's better than a late-night guilt-free burger topped off with a night-cap and a game of pool? not much, my friends, not much.

yesterday's mileage: 5.8
season mileage to date: 41.3