Just a Beer

I just poured myself a glass of beer--Schlafly Dry Hopped APA, for those keeping score.

I have a lot on my mind tonight, some of it heavy, some of it shallow, most of it involving neither running nor beer. This blog, however is not the venue for those thoughts. If I'm wise, I'll try to hash them out in writing somewhere, sometime soon; but not here.

I have long fashioned myself a writer, but a "writer" who doesn't write is a wannabe at best and a poseur at worst. I'm not sure I write well; I get by in terms of usage, style, punctuation, and such, but some days I don't have much to say. I started this blog for one reason only: to give myself a reason to write about--something. Anything. The twin topics of this blog are, at least, two things I think about fairly regularly.

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I very much enjoyed the beer dinner I attended recently--a feast for the senses for sure. The next day, I received a phone call from someone admitting (to me, but chiefly to themselves) their alcoholism, asking me to support them and keep them accountable. Timing is funny.

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I really know very little about beer. I have noticed, however, that I have picked up the unfortunate habit of talking about it as if I have actual expertise in the ins and outs of beer styles, various breweries and brewing regions. Somewhere, Screwtape is laughing.

I do really enjoy trying new beers, and comparing different examples of the same style, and learning about how beer is made. I also have not given up on my desire to brew my own; financial concerns have back-burnered that plan somewhat, but I know I've also probably been reluctant to take the actual step of walking into a shop and saying, "I know nothing. Please help me with this." Know-it-all-ism is a tough habit to break, a difficult posture to drop. Lord, have mercy.

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Running has been going well. Of course, a couple of good runs gave me the (misguided?) confidence to resume marathon training. So far, the achilles tendons have held up; my stamina, though, has not yet returned.

(And I'm strongly considering petitioning New Belguim to change the name of their flagship brew to Flat Tire.)

I somehow pounded out just over 17 miles Saturday, hoping for 20 but ultimately happy with my total. The Tulsa marathon is less than 4 weeks away; I'd love to run an even 20 in one go sometime in the next couple of weeks. I figure I have maybe two more shots at meeting that goal--this Thursday evening (the night before I travel to Iowa with my mom and two of her siblings) and maybe the weekend after next.

I'm pretty sure I'm a damn fool for trying to run that distance having taken 2 months off, but my mostly successful recent long runs have given me confidence to at least try. The greater the uncertainty in other parts of life, the more I enjoy channeling energy into attaining a difficult goal.

Sometimes, it seems as if I'm running away from something; other times, towards something. And every once in awhile, I run just for the love of the run. Not usually, unfortunately; but those fleeting times of running for its own blissful sake make all of those other runs worthwhile--if just for the hope that the bliss might return somehow, someday.

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In better running news, Cindy did a dry run (pun intended) of the course of her upcoming 5k this past Saturday. She made it just fine. She's ready. I ran the course with her--easily the most enjoyable 3 miles of my 17 that day. A different sort of bliss, perhaps, but most welcome.

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And the beer glass is now empty.