Including 2002 ... the 3 apple martinis and a double-shot of Jägermeister in under an hour, followed by 3 hours of bringing it all back up on the dance floor of Club Cafe, followed by 2-day hangover.
That felt stupid but temporary.
This weekend felt markedly less stellar from a general state of wellness. A low point after a long, slow descent. Funk with a capital F.
Brought on in some ways by waking up January 1 with a toothache, facial scab, chapped lips and no voice. Reminded that the guy I've tried to date the last 2 months just wants a glorified booty call every couple weeks. That the apartment still smells like cat litter, even though it was just changed. That after successful marathon execution on November 21, I've not found the energy to run anywhere near 26.2 miles in the last 6 weeks. That I've eaten little other than sharp cheddar, diet orange soda and Christmas cookies in those 6 weeks. And my favorite jeans ripped down the thigh yesterday.
Time to buck up, campers. Time to put the brakes on the downward slide.
A daily run, I think, for the next month. Minimum. Two-mile minimum. Out of doors. No exceptions for blizzards and sub-zero temps. No exceptions for chapped lips and toothaches and 40-something men being selfish.
No exceptions for despair over ripped denim.
Day 2 of 31: 4.27
January total: 6.89