The Adventures of Cowboy Hazel

I always get worried when things go this well. It just seems too good to last. I’ve hit a bit of a lucky streak lately and am just so damn happy and relaxed right now that it seems almost too good to be true.

Okay, so today didn’t start out as good as it ended (although it didn’t start that badly). I woke up far earlier than is normal for a Sunday, put on my running clothes and headed down to Central Park for the Scotland Run 10K. I randomly started talking to some other runners that were headed there too on the train and we walked over to the west side of the park from Lexington Ave together. (By the way, this is what I love about road races — When else do you make friends on the subway?) We get to the registration, get our numbers, etc. and then go back to the giant chute of a starting line. The whole process always makes me feel so much like we’re cattle being prodded along. Especially today. There were 7,000 runners in a very limited space.

I get to the starting line and go back to the section marked 7 minute miles. I’m anticipating a 43 minute finish and therefore think this is the place I should line up. I’m standing there, stretching, waiting for the race to start when I hear my name called. I look to my right and see Michael, one of the guys from my newly formed running group, walking towards me. It was so cool to run into a familiar face at this huge gathering. We chatted a bit and waited for the start, both a little overwhelmed by the crowd that had showed up for this seemingly insignificant race.

Finally, they signaled the start. “Run, the British are coming!” It was funny, but nobody was moving. What the hell? Oh, wait, they are moving up in the front. A full minute later, we finally crossed the start line. But we were still inside a completely solid mass. People obviously hadn’t paid much attention to the correct pace markers and there were old, fat people who obviously couldn’t run a seven minute mile if their life depended on it in front of us and blocking our way. The first mile of this race was seriously a contact sport. I’ve never seen such chaos. The problem is that none of us were running fast and we were all using up a hell of a lot of energy. I was exhausted by the time I got to the first mile marker and the time read 8:15. Are you kidding me? I haven’t run an eight minute mile since… I can’t even remember. I don’t do eight minute miles.

The crowd finally starts to separate a bit after the first mile marker, but then we come up on those giant hills at the north end of the park and I’m wiped from the wrestling at the beginning and in no shape to tackle those hills. I keep passing people but I feel like I’m going to puke. I make it through the hills at the top of the race pretty solid, hoping to get a second wind coming down the east side of the park, but it doesn’t happen. I’m completely wiped out from the grueling start and hills and people are starting to pass me.

I don’t even want to recount the rest of the run in detail because it wasn’t pretty. Let’s just sum up that I finished in 43:51, running a pace of 7:04 miles, which was very disappointing to me. I definitely blame that first mile but still am upset that I wasn’t able to make up for it more later.

Anyway, I still finished the race in the top 10% and shouldn’t really have anything to complain about. Michael finished three minutes ahead of me and we found each other at the finish line and hung around for the raffle to see if we won the trip to Scotland. (Neither one of us did.) There were good vibes in the park, though. Tons of people were there and they were all healthy, happy people who had just finished a race. It’s always a good energy in those scenarios that you can take with you.

I headed over to Whole Foods in Columbus Circle after that (a rare treat for me because I’m never over in that part of town anymore) and bought a bunch of stuff for my dinner tonight.

When I got back home, I (as was predicted yesterday) wrapped up some loose ends on the Five Fish List, worked on clearing out my inbox, and cleaned my apartment. I was hoping to have time to take a nap, or at least to kick back and watch t.v. for a bit, but it never happened.

I started cooking at six. Everyone showed up at seven. Everyone in this case refers to Michael (not the Michael at the race — different Michael), Andres, Joe and Brutus. Michael, Andres, and I used to work together at Saks. Joe is Michael’s boyfriend and Brutus is their dog. It was almost eight o’clock when I finally finished cooking and got everything on the table. I made risotto with portobello mushrooms and a Parisian lettuce salad with blue cheese. I also served focaccia bread with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Thankfully, everything actually turned out really good. I wasn’t too worried about the salad or the bread, but this is only the second time I’ve made risotto and making it is an intense process with plenty of places to screw up.

So, the food was good. Everyone enjoyed it. Mike brought over two bottles of wine (which were really light and fruity and totally not to my usual taste but enjoyable even so) and we drank those, then opened up a bottle of my house wine, Louis Jadot Beaujolais-Villages. This particular bottle was 2006, but I often have other vintages lying around.

After dinner, we got into a huge argument over the nationalization of health care and the overall implications of such a move on society as a whole. We also debated the America’s role in Iraq, education reform, and the legalization of currently illegal drugs. The majority of the debate, however, centered around health care. Joe and Michael, in a sense, served as moderators while Andres and I argued. Although we all have radically different ideas, we were able to drunkenly share them with each other without anyone’s feelings being hurt. It was a good discussion and everyone brought up good points. (Of course, I was right though. Of course.) They all left about eleven and I washed up the dishes from dinner.

While doing so, I realized how happy I am with my life right now. I have good friends, more work available to me than I’m capable of doing, a healthy devotion to running, and a beautiful apartment that everyone was complimenting all evening. What else could a guy want? Sure, a girlfriend would be nice, but that’s coming soon — I feel it. And maybe, a little more money, but I feel that on the horizon too.