To the surprise of absolutely no one, my dreams of New Jersey Half-Marathon glory were over before they even started. I mean, I lasted all through December so that has to be some kind of record. To be fair, I do have some kind of random radiating foot pain that makes it hurt to walk to the subway, let alone run 13 miles. It's just not right that we live in a world where, if you tell people you’re running a half-marathon to cure cancer, you’re a hero, but if you tell them you drank your weight in tequila last night, you’re some kind of degenerate. Runners are just as addicted to their vice as I am to mine. PLUS, I don’t clog up central park every weekend my empty wine bottles. It's just really, really unfair.
ANYWAY, my next feat, which doesn’t involve shaking people down for cash (I mean, unless you want to donate to my cause, I’m certainly amenable), is to visit every Red Sox bar in New York before the end of the season. By my initial count, there are 11 RS bars in the greater NYC area, including Brooklyn and Hoboken (who knew!).
My first stop will be the Hairy Monk in the next 10 days. Stay tuned.
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