frankenstorm

I'm sure you've heard about Hurricane Sandy, a.k.a. the "superstorm" or the "frankenstorm." (Is it just me, or when you hear the term "frankenstorm," do you picture a bunch of little sausages raining down from the heavens? OK, maybe it's just me. Although imagine that for a moment: What would be worse -- floods of water or floods of sausage? I mean, how would you clean up that much sausage, especially before it started to go bad?)

Bet you can't guess what I ate for dinner tonight.

It really is laughable, though: I've been waiting so long for this race -- dreams of Momofuku started well over a year ago. And I finally make it through training and am down to the homestretch and -- boom -- Mother Nature throws a wiener in my face.

The good news: I was able to reschedule my flight (and at no charge, always a bonus) and will now attempt to fly east Wednesday. And so far, the marathon is still on as planned. (Man, I don't envy those race organizers one bit.)

Fingers crossed.

(One final note: "Superstorm" could also easily describe the SF Giants kicking Detroit's ass. Sweep! That is all.)