close call

In addition to this blog, I'm on the blogroll for the NVV's harvest blog. This is tricky because I don't want things to cross over. This blog must remain a secret from the people I work with; I don't want them telling me I can't write about other people's wines, share opinions about restaurants, post videos that mock wine sales or make fun of wine tourists' fashion choices.

Unfortunately, I accidentally posted my personal entry on the NVV blog this morning. Seriously: SHIT. Luckily, I was able to delete it immediately. I just really hope no one saw it. (Thank goodness today is a holiday and harvest has started. Hopefully people are sleeping or sampling grapes and not surfing the Web.)

Anyway, as I was saying in my original post (which I now have to attempt to recreate), I am reading Hal Higdon's Marathon Training and counting down to CIM. I have exactly 12 weeks of training left.

And according to Mr. Higdon, 55 percent of everything I eat should be carbohydrates. Hell freaking yeah. At last, validation for my intense love of rice, potatoes, pasta and vegetables. Take that, Atkins!

However, despite carefully carbo-loading the night before with papardelle from Sugo and waking up at 5:20 a.m. to eat a bowl of oatmeal, yesterday morning's 18-miler from Santa Rosa to Sebastopol and back was brutal. The first 15 miles were fine -- slow and steady, just like I planned, with GU and water at the right intervals.

But the last three miles were pure torture. My hips were aching (maybe I need glucosamine), and the Joe Rodota Trail was just plain scary. Seriously, as I got closer to Santa Rosa, the people on the trail got weirder. You must have a tough life to sit in the middle of a running/biking path before 9 a.m. and drink 40s. (And yes, they really were right smack in the middle of the trail.) And you must have some major issues if you are going to try to show me your penis while I'm running. Dear god, despite my aching hips, I got out of there as fast as I could.

Thankfully, the recovery meal was delightful: Eggs Blackstone (how I love heirloom tomato time) with potatoes and fresh fruit at Humble Pie, my favorite brunch spot.