This...

was a knockout. 

Beer log:

Friday: A couple of light Mexican beers at a Mexican-themed birthday party at which I played music: Tecate (not bad, especially ice cold) and Sol (not much going for it, unfortunately, even ice cold)

Saturday: Before moving to the main course of the BrewDog Paradox Isle of Arran Whisky Cask Aged Stout (above), I primed my palette with a nice Sierra Nevada Porter.

Sunday: Schlafly Kolsch (nice!) with a seafood lunch

Running log: Back to the trails!

Saturday: 6.1 exhausting miles on the Tour de Wolf, followed by 3 easier miles at the Y later in the afternoon

Monday: 6.1 less exhausting miles on the same. Turns out that if one arrives just at sunrise, one is treated to foggy valleys along the southern stretch of the trail. I actually felt a chill in a couple of spots!

Tuesday: Just like Monday (6.1 miles), fog included!

After several weeks of waiting till after work to run, I've made the move back to morning runs. I'd forgotten (even in just a few weeks) how much I enjoy starting my day with a run. In addition to practical concers (I don't have to try to squeeze in a run during busy afternoons and evenings; it's cooler in the morning), I find morning runs more meditative--I have less white noise to sort through in the mornings, and the thoughts during the run seem to come more slowly rather than in a teeming crowd.

I could make a habit of this; at least I hope so.

The Beer Is Here!

I just received an email notice from Joe's Wines and Spirits that my monthly Beer Nutz Beer Club selections were in.

For those in Memphis who don't know, membership the club is a flat $15/month and entitles the member to a new selection of big beers the third Friday of every month. The catch is that you do not know in advance which beers you'll get; the good news, though, is that you'll sometimes get more than fifteen dollars' worth of beer.

This month, I'll receive two BrewDog Paradox whisky cask aged imperial stouts: the Isle of Arran and the Smokehead. I'm looking forward to what will be my first taste of Brewdog Paradox beers.

As a bonus, Joe's is holding a bottle of the Sierra Nevada 30th Anniversary Charlie, Fred & Ken's Bock Imperial Helles Bock for me (thanks, guys!).

Running log: After extolling the virtues of getting back outside on Tuesday, I grudgingly returned to the Y treadmill Wednesday and yesterday. It's really, really, really hot out there. Really.
Wednesday: 3 miles (+30 min other cardio)
Yesterday: 6 miles

Beer log:
Tuesday: McSorley's Irish Black Lager after dinner.

Stinky

Stinky, sweaty clothes are a given for runners, but especially this time of year. And most especially this morning.

After a couple of days' worth of avoiding the heat, I ventured out into it again this morning for a run on my "neighborhood loop" (really an out and back). It was good to be back out there. I'd run on the treadmill several times over the last week or two, including yesterday; I'm not convinced that "treadmill running is not 'real' running," especially when treadmill availability is deciding factor between running and not running at all for some folks (myself included some of that time). But there really is something soothing about running outdoors, allowing one's eyes to shift from objects close at hand to treetops several blocks away and back again; trail running, with its ever-shifting scenery and terrain, is the best for this, but even getting out onto the roads is a huge relief after a couple of weeks' worth of staring at the backs of heads, volumeless televisions, and digital display panels on which every element of the run is quantified.

Make no mistake: I was a sweatier than a luchador after only a couple of miles; but the payoff of beauty and scenic variety more than compensated for my becoming the stinky warrior that I was.

Running log:

Monday: 6 miles at the Y, roughly 8 min/mi pace

Today: 6.25 miles on the neighborhood loop at about the same pace

INXS of my heat quotient

I couldn't help but think of this song--which, despite the, uh, "period" clothing worn in the video, was one of my favorites by this group--as I ran the Gibson Guitar 5k early Saturday evening. By the numbers:

Time (unofficial): 20:45
Songs listened to on the iPod during the race: 5.3--REM's Finest Worksong, Garbage's I'm Only Happy When it Rains, U2's Discotheque, Third Day's Believe, Dewey Starr's Old Gold Heart, and the first minute or so of Finest Worksong again.
Seconds off your goal time: 45
Did the song about rain cool you off any? The heck no. That one's not joining me for the next race; in hindsight, maybe I should've uploaded the INXS song instead.
Number of beers enjoyed at the postrace party: None, thogh I did have a tasty Sierra Nevada Summerfest after I got home.
Number of miles jogged after I cooled down and decided to see a little bit of downtown in a less hurried state: about 1.5

The Little Victories

As we seem to have done most weeks lately, the San Juan Brigade finished just shy of the money in last night's trivia contest at the P&H Cafe (still not sure that "colony" rather than "hive" of bees was not correct...).

But on the plus side, we did win a free pitcher of beer by winning the heads-or-tails contest in the "beer round" between trivia rounds 4 and 5.

WE'RE NUMBER ONE!

Beer log: 1 pint of Lazy Magnolia Pecan Harvest Ale, 1 pint of 1554, and a cup of PBR (look Jack, no headache!).

Running log:
Monday: 5 miles (including 4 x 0.5 mi speed intervals) on the treadmill in the air-conditioned comfort of the Y.
Tuesday: 6 miles (8 min/mi pace), also at the Y

Tally

Miles run since last update: 9 (4 Sunday, 5 today)

Beers consumed since last update: 5.2 (2 pints of Ghost River Oatmeal Stout and a bottle of New Belgium Mothership Wit Saturday; and 1 bottle of Yazoo Pale Ale, 1 glass of Le Merle Belgian Style Farmhouse Ale, and a few sips of Anchor Steam (which I guess I, unlike the 1,375 reviewers at Beer Advocate, didn't like very much) yesterday

Do I feel a twinge of guilt about not liking Anchor Steam, especially with the trip to San Francisco awaiting me at the end of the month? Yeah, a little

Really? OK, not really, though I do feel bad about not finishing the beer, especially since someone else provided it

Times I've looked at my beer in the fridge longingly today, a fasting day: Too many

Weeks till I make my inaugural trip to MidSouth Malts to inquire about beer-brewing gear: Hopefully less than 4

Jurisdiction

Running is not always fun. Sometimes, the legs and joints are sore or tired, making the entire run a drag. Others times, weather extremes (too hot, too cold, too rainy, too muggy) sap one's energy, leaving one much more tired than would be proportionate to the distance and pace of the run. And sometimes, running is just plain boring, especially if one is confined to the treadmill or has run the same route several days in a row.

Yesterday, my run was nearly spoiled by dive-bombing flies.



I don't know what happened on the Wolf River trails between Tuesday and yesterday. Tuesday's run was muggy, but not buggy. Yesterday, though, I spent what felt like half of my run shooing flies, slapping my head and neck, even yelling at them several times (I even shouted, "Get the F off of me!" once; somehow, I did manage to say "F" instead of the actual word). I'm sure I was a sight.

My biggest question, though, is one of airspace and jurisdiction: I know why a fly might be angry when someone runs through its airspace; I don't, however, understand how that same fly could, having its own jurisdiction transgressed, justify following someone for the next quarter mile, dive-bombing him, buzzing his ears. I seem to recall an episode of "The Misadventures of Sheriff Lobo" in which the title character was prevented from chasing an outlaw once he crossed into the next county.

Don't flies watch bad TV, too?

Running log: 7 miles on the Blue and Yellow trails (I walked about a minute of that)

Beer log: Sierra Nevada Glissade Golden Bock, part of the handpicked 6-pack of SN beers given to me for my birthday by my brother and sister-in-law. Perfect for a hot evening.

National Running Day

Today is National Running Day! I may need to rethink my original plan of a run-free day and take at least a ceremonial lap around my block to mark the occasion.

Quick Work

Last Friday, I planned to run the Yellow Wolf River trail, only to be forced to detour less than one mile in because a bridge was out (no biggie--I just shifted over to the Blue trail).

A mere four days later, I returned yesterday to the Wolf River trails; remembering the washed-out bridge, I started on the Blue trail. What did I find at the Blue-Yellow crossroads? A brand-new bridge on the Yellow trail!

A big, sweaty thank you is due to the volunteers who braved the heat and bugs to erect a new bridge so quickly. Y'all are awesome!

Running log: About 7 miles on the Blue and (mainly) Yellow trails.

Beer log: A pint of 1554 at the P&H.

The Bryan Hayes Memorial Day Run; or, Things That Go Bump in the Day

Having today off, I decided to do some trail running. It's Memorial Day, and I thought I'd honor my good friend Bryan Hayes--who is completing his tour in Iraq--by running at Herb Parsons State Park, a place we've talked about running many times but have not yet visited together.

It would have been to my advantage to have had Bryan with me. In addition to being great company, Bryan knows the 7-mile loop around the lake; I, on the other hand, did not know the trail (today was my first time there) and thus got lost or turned around several times. I also tried to be a hero and circumnavigate the lake twice instead of just once, and the heat and time on my feet conspired to leave me exhausted by the end. But I loved the trail itself (much wider than the Wolf River trails, and, unlike the Tour de Wolf, most of the trail is in the shade).

I look forward to running it with my good friend when he returns later this summer. Happy Memorial Day, Bryan!

Running log:

My Herb Parsons experience by the numbers:

Miles ran: about 14
Miles walked: about 0.5 (at around mile 13)
Number of wrong turns: at least 5
Number of times I fell down: 2
Number of times I fell down because I bumped my head on the branch of a fallen tree: 1
Number of seconds spent lying on the ground after bumping my head: probably 15 or so
Number of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches eaten during and after the run: 1
Number of clothing changes during and after the run: 2 (I felt like Madonna!)
Number of items purchased at the park store to meet the $5 debit card minimum which I decided to pay because I was hecka thirsty but the Gatorade cost only $1.59: 5

Sunday: 3 miles at Shady Grove

Beer log:

Sunday: Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy (thanks, Charlie!)

Don't Try This at Home...Maybe Not Even at the Zoo

I spent both Thursday and Friday evenings at the Memphis Zoo; I spent today resting a spell.

Beer log:

Friday: Zoo Brew, with 3- to 5-oz servings of the following (* = first time I'd tried this beer):

Saranac Summer Ale*
Victory Hop Devil
Beamish Irish Stout*
Singha* (lager from Thailand)
Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout
Sierra Nevada Porter
Flying Dog Garde Dog Biere de Garde*
Bosco's Bombay IPA
Abita Jockamo IPA*
Rogue American Amber*
Unibroue Maudite*
Unibroue Don de Dieu*
Dogfish Head Raison d'Etre*
Yazoo Hop Project*
Acme Pale Ale* (North Coast)
Eye of the Hawk ale* (Mendocino)
Kasteel Rouge*
Ghost River Glacial Pale Ale
Hook & Ladder Backdraft Brown*
Hook & Ladder Lighter*
Beer 30* (Wisconsin)
Homebrew: Moose Drool Clone*
Homebrew: Scottish 80 Schilling Ale*
Homebrew: Rye Ale*

A couple of notes:

1. A few beers were nice surprises--the Saranac Summer Ale (lager with lemonade) was really flavorful; I may buy a six-pack of that this summer. I also liked the Yazoo Hop Project (#28...each batch of Hop Project is brewed with a different mix of hops, so each batch is different from every other one)--along with the Ghost River Glacial Pale Ale (even in such lofty company, it still stood out), this was probably my favorite of the hoppy beers. And all three Homebrews were really, really good. However,

2. Even with small serving sizes, trying 24 beers in one night was maybe NOT the best idea. I tried to pace myself (I really did!), and I kept bottled water with me the entire time. But I overdid things; an especially poor decision was trying all of the Homebrews back-to-back-to-back right before we left--each was really strong, and I spent the next 2 hours regretting that final sprint to the finish.

Still, I had a great time with my brother, my sister-in-law, and our friend Joey; I just might use a little more discretion (read: self-control) next time.

Today: Not even considering having a beer.

Running log:

Thursday: Zoom Through the Zoo 4-mile race--I finished in 27:28, more than a minute faster than my time last year. After getting caught up in the middle of the pack for the first half mile last year, I decided to start closer to the cheetahs and gazelles...even though I was winded by the end (OK, well before the end), that speedy first mile helped me to the improved time.
Friday: 7.25 miles on the muddy Yellow and Blue trails.
Today: Not even considering running.

Pasty Lord of the Sith

Yesterday, I became the thing I hated.

A couple of years ago, I wrote a rather long tirade (back when MySpace was my repository for such things) about men who ran shirtless. I was not commenting on male shirtlessness in general or any aesthetic qualms I have with that state, but just on some bad racing etiquette I'd seen in a few guys who happened to be running topless (I've pasted the full rant at the bottom of this post).

My plan yesterday was to take a break from running to rest my joints for tonight's Zoom Through the Zoo race; I figured 30 minutes on the Y StairMaster would stake out a nice Via Media between no workout at all and the pounding of road running.

When I arrived at the Y, however, I realized I'd packed my shorts, shoes, and towel, but no t-shirt. My first thought was to simply wear the shirt I had on and then go home for my shower before returning to work, but the idea of spending 30 minutes on a StairMaster while wearing a cotton polo shirt was less than appealing.

So, with no other options immediately coming to mind, I headed to Sea Isle park and ran. Shirtless. Like Anakin Skywalker, I'd become the very thing I'd fought against, complete with labored breathing.

(Though much, much pastier.)

And though I was a hot sweaty mess afterward, I quickly threw on my polo shirt as soon as I returned to the car, rendering the shirt a hot sweaty mess as well but covering my shame, and my blinding paleness, most effectively.

Running log: 3 shirtless miles at Sea Isle.

Beer log: Dos Equis at El Porton for the joint birthday celebration for my wife, my sister-in-law, and me.

*****

The Curse of the Shirtless Dudes

I like running longish distances. It makes me feel good.

I also like healthy competition. It also makes me feel good.

The upshot of those two facts is that I like to run in distance races.

Running plus competition--the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup of sport for me.

But I also try to be a Good Sport.

(Those who knew me growing up know that has not always been the case. But I'm trying.)

So when I get toward the last stretch of a race, and I see someone ahead of me busting his or her butt who has been ahead of me pretty much the entire race,
I consider it bad form to blow by that person right before entering the chute at the end of the run.

To me, that person earned the better finishing position.

Being a Bad Sport does not make me feel good.

However,

Not everyone seems to take that stance.

Three different times this year, I have held back and not passed someone right in front of me at the finish of a race

And then have watched as someone else makes a mad dash and passes me right before I reach the finish line--

Even as I'm consciously NOT passing the person in front of ME.

The Good Sport part of me knows I should just let it go

And I think the Good Sport part would win out easily

Except for the fact that the dude that passes me at the end

Is inevitably running Shirtless.

On paper, that may not be a big deal,

But when one runs one's first half marathon,

Like I did last spring,

And finally gets to view one's Official Race Photo

And then finds that one is barely visible in said photo

because a 45-year-old Shirtless man is
(1) Eclipsing one photo-wise and
(2) Passing one at the finish

Well, let's just say one decides NOT to shell out the twenty bucks
for said Official Race Photo.

It should go without saying that

That did not make me feel good.

Anyway, to add insult to injury today
(figurately--I was not injured, thankfully)

Not only was I once again passed by a Shirtless Dude

Right at the finish of a race,

But the man in front of me from whom I respectfully kept my distance at the end

Was also Shirtless

And the Passing Shirtless Dude passed me

And then passed In-Front-of-Me-Shirtless-Dude.

And then when we were standing around right after the finish--

Me breathing easily, but the Shirtless Duo gasping for air--

I heard Passing Shirtless-Dude say to the volunteer

Who was handing out the finishing-order cards,

"Be sure my card reflects the fact that I finished in front of those two guys"--

Meaning me and In-Front-of-Me Shirtless Dude.

I still think I made the right call

And was a Good Sport

In not passing In-Front-of-Me-Shirtless-Dude,

And I'll most likely make a similar decision

The next time I approach the finish line

Just behind someone I believe has run a great race.

That would still make me feel good.

Except if that someone is Shirtless,

In which case

He's gonna be wiping my dust

Out of his chest hair

If he has any.

And that would most likely make me feel

Great.

The PBR Headache

The latest incarnation of the San Juan Brigade played trivia at the P&H last night. After I enjoyed a solo 1554, I partook of the community pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Not that anyone would mistake me for a hipster anyway, but any possible street cred I might've accrued by playing in a rock band with younger, hipper dudes is surely leavened by the fact that I simply do not drink PBR. I tried it back in 2002 (why do I remember these details?) and, while I thought it tasted OK, I developed a severe headache after only a single pint. I hadn't tried it again since.

But because it was right there in front of me last night, I had a cup. My first impresson was that, hey, it's pretty good...not packed with flavor, but cold, light, and crisp. And cheap. I poured a second cup. Still tasty. Still cheap.

And then--WHAM---the headache kicked in. I drank other liquids to try to counter the effect, but the dull pain persisted. Offered another cup, I shook my head and declined.

Turns out I'm not alone in experiencing this adverse effect. In "10 Reasons Why You Should Not Buy Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer," G.R. notes the "crushing headache" that accompanies only a couple of pints. Another drinker's review of PBR consisted only of "Guaranteed headache."

Regardless, though, last night's experience only confirms the obvious:

I'm definitely not a hipster.

Street cred = nil.

Though I guess I could still go buy a trucker hat, or a chain wallet, or something.

And, as my wife can attest to, even though I don't dress or drink like a hipster, a night at the P&H always leaves me smelling like one.

Running log: 3 miles at Sea Isle near race pace (preparing for Thursday's Zoom Through the Zoo 4-miler)

Another “draft drought"...

…though, fortunately, not a “draught drought.” For the record:

Beer log:
Tuesday (5/18): Ghost River Brown on tap at the Grove Grill (work dinner).
Wednesday: Abita Pecan Harvest Ale—light and tasty. A nice “humble” beer.
Saturday: Unibroue La Fin du Monde. A little bit of Belgium right here in North America!
Sunday: Delirium Tremens (from actual Belgium) at Café 1912 with a downsized—but plenty fun—version of our dinner group.

Running log:
Tuesday: 6 miles at Sea Isle
Thursday: 6 miles at Sea Isle
Friday: 6 miles at the Y
Saturday: 6 miles at the Y
Sunday: 1.85 miles at the Y (after StairMaster)
Today (Monday): 6 miles (including hill/incline work) at the Y (the plan was to run at Shelby Farms, but the surprise thunderstorm changed my plan)

*****

Fortunately, this week promises to bring extra beer excitement, since (1) I picked up my first "package" as a member of the Joe's Wines and Spirits "Beer Nutz" Club (more on that soon) and (2) I have a ticket to the Zoo Brew beer tasting event to be held this Friday night.

No time for editorializing...

Running log
Friday: 6.25 miles on the (muddy) Tour de Wolf (extra .15 due to wrong turn)
Saturday: 6.1 miles on the (still muddy) Tour de Wolf
Today (Monday): 8.25 miles on the Chickasaw Trail

Beer log
Saturday: A pair of Saranacs--Adirondack Lager after the run and Brown Ale before bed...neither stellar, but the lager was pretty refreshing on a hot afternoon (though a little filling at 5.5% ABV).
Sunday: The previously described Sierra Nevada Torpedo Double Pale Ale at a wedding reception (Many Years, Mitch and Sandy!) and then a Chimay Premiere at Studio on the Square during One Came Home (I enjoyed the beer, and Cindy and I both enjoyed the movie).
Tonight (Monday): The devilishly good Avery White Rascal.

Pow!!

Right in the kisser. Walloped by the Hop Wallop.

Back to the Beer Fast...

You-Know-Who in the Details

From an article titled "Satan Ale Pulled From the Pig's Shelves:

"'The names of these beers have nothing to do with any religious statement or message, but they simply refer to the old brewing traditions, and the hard work near the fire of the cooking vessels,' stated a Brewery De Block representative via e-mail. 'As a matter of fact, the Belgian football players are called the Red Devils, and a lot of beers from Belgium and other countries have brand names like Biere du Demon, Delirium Tremens, Luciver, Duvel, etc. I have never met anybody here who said that they were upset about these old traditions.'"

The last beer I had before I began Beer Fast 2010 was Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout from North Coast Brewing Company. I'll go ahead and mention that it was a hell of a good beer--malty, heavy without being syrupy, and just a little bit chocolatey. I enjoyed that beer while celebrating Mother's Day at Sweet Grass, a new favorite restaurant in Cooper-Young.

Had I bought this beer for home consumption, however, I would have not added the empty bottle to my growing collection...as much as I enjoyed that stout, I would have felt, well, uneasy having such a questionable character leer down at me (and my wife) from the top of my kitchen cabinets.

I ran into a similar dilemma a few weeks ago, when I decided to recycle instead of display the empty bottle that had contained Avery's White Rascal, another beer I very much liked but about whose diabolical label I was less than enthusiastic about keeping around. Even in my limited beer-drinking experience, I've come across many beers whose names and/or labels give at least a wink and nod to the Evil One: HopDevil, Duvel, several Unibroue varieties...and that's just off the top of my head. Moreover, these cervezas celebrating the Unsavory One are generally the big, strong, and very tasty beers that I usually prefer.

I have not yet reached the point at which, for me, drinking such beers in and of itself precipitates a moral crisis (though drinking too many of these high-gravity brews in a single setting might).

Nor is this a comprehensive reflection on the origins of beer names and the history of the beer-Beelzebub connection.

Hell, maybe it's 99% marketing.

But I do feel better about ditching those bottles afterward.

*****

Running log:

Sunday: 6 miles on the treadmill
Monday: 7 miles on the treadmill
Tuesday: 3.1 miles on the treadmill
Today: 6.25 miles on the road

Roll Call

Just for the record, here's a list of the rest of the beers I've had this week:

Wednesday

Saranac Black Forest Ale: My favorite from the Wild World of Wine and Beer a few weeks ago, and just as delicious at home. A new favorite for sure.

Thursday (with pizza at Mellow Mushroom with good friends--the MM has a great beer selection, by the way)

Victory HopDevil Ale: Wow! That's one hoppy, flavorful ale. Perfect with the Philosopher's Pie (steak, portobello mushroom cap, artichoke hearts, kalamata olives, provolone, feta, and mozzarella cheeses on an oil and garlic base).
Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA: 90-Minute "light"--similar in taste, but less wallop than its bigger-by-30-minutes brother. I probably should've had this one before the HopDevil.

Tonight (Friday)

Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA: Pale Ale heavy! Actually, the hop profile is a little different from that of the Sierra Nevada flagship brew; also, at 7.2% ABV, it's a "big" but not "BIG" beer.
White Hawk Select IPA, from Mendocino Brewing Co.: Another new favorite, and different enough from the Torpedo (and sufficiently hoppy) to hold its own as the second beer of the night. Second and final.

“Don’t Waste the Beer!”

I first heard that phrase in the summer of ’86. For the second straight year, my Uncle Mike and Aunt Connie had driven my brother and me to St. Louis to take in a few Cardinals games. That particular day, we were in the Busch Stadium nosebleeds for an afternoon game in the middle of July. The Cards were losing, everyone was sweating, and our section was getting rowdier by the inning. Anyway, as a fellow made his way up the steps with a tray of beers, he tripped upwards, spilling the four cups he was carrying onto the ground. Hence the chant, repeated in the same semi-drunken stupor in which “Let’s Go, Cubs!” is chanted at every game at Wrigley. I was thirteen then, but the memory of that moment is still as clear as day.

If only I’d actually learned the lesson of the chant.

Because I wanted to make sure that Brandon and Caitlyn retained their deposit, and because no one I spoke to knew of any other accommodation, on Wednesday I returned the keg of Ghost River Pale Ale that had been hibernating in the church fridge since the end of Brandon and Caitlyn’s reception Sunday. The last time I'd seen the keg, it seemed to have at least a gallon or two of beer remaining inside. Like a fool, however, I did not bring with me any of the empty growlers that had collected at my house over the last few weeks. I tried to console myself by saying, “It’s been three days, it’s gone flat by now, it’s no good, it’s no loss.”

But I needed to know that for sure. Although I had no cup, glass, or bottle with me, I just couldn’t resist (once I pulled into the Ghost River parking lot) pouring just a small bit of bachelor-no-more beer into the only receptacle I could find—a Tupperware sandwich container. Tilting the plastic square circle toward my lips, I sipped.

Of course, the beer was still in tip-top shape.

Opportunity = missed.

Beer = wasted.

Dave = ashamed and embarrassed.

Running Fast

Several weeks ago, I promised my muscles and joints that I'd soon give them a full week's break from running. That week has arrived. My goal is to continue to ride my bicycle and work out on the elliptical machine and StairMaster at the Y as much as I can this week, but I'm not planning to run again till this coming Sunday.

To my Achilles tendons and left hip, I say, "You're welcome."

The running fast may or may not be accompanied by a similar beer fast; the beer fast will most likely occur next week, when my Dad (of the Teetotalling Twombly subgroup) will be in town. Blood is thicker than ale...even stout.

Evening update: No beer fast this week! I enjoyed two New Belgium 1554 Enlightened Black Ales during trivia at the P&H (3rd place this week--let's hear it for the San Juan Brigade!). I'd had a bottle of 1554 a couple of years ago and was underwhelmed by it--it seemed a little dry and even flat. On tap, however...ahh. Not sweet but not too bitter, its rich, full flavor persisted from first sip to aftertaste. I'm glad I gave this one a second chance.