On Saturday, I enjoyed a fast run on Long Beach's boardwalk, during which an older runner stopped me to ask if I would be running a race occuring in Long Beach the next weekend. I have no idea why someone would stop a stranger who is running past them and blaring music into their eardrums to ask such a question, but I took it to mean that I run so fast this man thinks I should race in all races, professionally, and win.
After a few hours slathered in SPF 70 with helioplex and fully educating myself on all of the latest celebrity gossip, it was high time for one of these:
|strawberry daiquiri + pina colada = tru pink luv|
Hello, I earned it.
I had to hightail it back to the city, so I hopped onto my tandem bike, sponsored by the fine brewmakers at Natural Light.
I then had to sprint onto the train just as it was about to pull out for New York to celebrate my dear friend & celebrated opera artiste's 25th birthday.
One of these became necessary:
|really just tastes like poison.|
After a wonderful birthday celebration with my girl, I was ready to rocket launch myself into bed in time for a 6:30 am wake up call. Yes, on a Sunday. Following a slow and easy run and church, I hopped into my friend Sarah's Zipcar and headed up to Sleepy Hollow Country Club to lay by the pool, learn even more about celebrity gossip (and you didn't even think that was possible!) grab some club food and watch the U.S. Women's Team almost win the World Cup, and just generally suffer through my difficult, laborious existence.
The only way to cap off such a day was to spend one last evening with Julia before she heads back to her house upstate and help her finish off the tub of salted caramel Pinkberry she bought last week. That's an acceptable dinner, right?
Something about summer weekends makes me feel like a kid again! Hope yours was just as playful.