Just in case you live in Alaska, and it’s 50 degrees where you are right now
and you have not been on the Internets at all this weekend, I would like to inform you that it is very hot in NYC and most of the rest of the country right now.
It’s nearly 9pm as I write this. Which means that it was really freaking hot during the day.
And it was yesterday. So I should have known better this morning, but knowing I have a summer ahead of early morning runs one day of each weekend, I had no desire to wake up early this morning to run.
So I went out at 9am, and pretty much died. I was happy for every stoplight I hit running west, and I definitely took a few walk breaks once I reached the West Side Highway, which I rarely do. I bought a handheld water bottle yesterday, and I drained the 12 ounces even before I’d finished a mile. I was thinking about doing 4 miles (totally savoring the last week of no training plan), but ended up running back to the High Line, running that and stopping at 3 and walking the rest of the way home.
I regret nothing.
And don’t know how you Florida people do it.
But I do know that a summer of marathon training will only make me a stronger runner come the fall. (Sidenote: how is it that I am training for my third marathon? When did this happen?) Fighting through the heat and humidity makes me feel like I’m flying come fall, which is always a nice little ego boost.
Post run, I had a hot date with Shannon and her husband at H.K. for brunch. It’s really close to their apartment–and my old apartment–so we’d bought deals for it when it went on LivingSocial. They have a bottomless cocktail for $16.95 special, and let’s just say that I never found the bottom of this champagne flute.
For breakfast, I had a frittata with sausage and guacamole and awesomeness. In my 29 years on this year, I’ve actually never tried a frittata (okay, a full-sized frittata–I searched my blog, and apparently I’ve had mini ones), and the whole cooking it on the stove and then putting it in the oven thing seemed beyond my cooking skills, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to order a skillet and start eating my weight in frittatas.
So: favorite brunch drink? And are frittatas easier to make than I think? What else do you skillet-owners cook in your fancy cast-iron pans? Or do you just use them as weapons?
(True story: apparently when the meter man used to come to read the meter, my great-grandma used to follow him with her frying pan and threaten to hit him over the head if he wasn’t “on the level.” )