Just. Do. It.


Last Sunday was supposed to be my biggest run to date at 17 miles, yet after 17 miles of cruising along with my new Adidas (by Stella McCartney <3), Camelpak, and pocket full of Oreos (let’s be real, Joe Joe Os), I was feeling fine enough despite some aches and pains, and decided to push on for a full 20. Going through nearly 3 hours of running, to new and extreme distances for this body, really jammed home the notion that running is indeed a mental sport. You can talk yourself into anything.

Actually this point was already pretty patently obvious to me doubled over, puking on my knees, off to the side of the med-tent in Angkor Wat during my first ever half marathon 4 years prior.  Newly single and on a mission to prove I am woman hear me roar, I wasn’t going to let my legs of lead hold me back. In hindsight this was severe dehydration of the acute sort. At the time it was just annoying. You’re almost there cheered the woman running beside me. One more big push said my head. Thump. Next thing I remember was being wheeled off the course in a Tuk Tuk, uncontrollably hurling every last ounce of liquid left in me over its rusted tin edge. Turns out, dysentery waits for no one, marathon or not.

No cookies tossed this round, but instead a swollen foot that feels on the verge of cracking in half. Needless to say I have taken this week off – ice, rest, repeat – and perhaps next time I’ll bear these past examples to heart and listen to my body. But probably not.


What else has been cracking? Tons of amazing bottles! Saturday I joined Rob for the Acker auction at Marea where my childhood friend Molly is executive Chef. It also happens to be one of New York’s greatest restaurants with one of the greatest plates of food I have had this year – lobster and burrata with these wonderfully bulbous basil seeds. Turns out basil seeds act like chia seeds when hydrated, they plump right up, but they also have the benefit of tasting like an entire bushel of basil all condensed down into one little green sphere. Divine. 


Moar later….


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