"Dude, 18 and 20 are really horrible. No, seriously."

To be fair, I had been warned that 18 miles was nothing like 16 miles, but I simply couldn't fathom two miles making that big of a difference. Well, touché (or "tushy" as I like to pronounce it) veteran Drunkmarathoners, you are wise beyond your years.

While no running, but PLENTY of drinking, took place during the reunion of the 3 founding DrunkRunners, I felt properly chastised by my body when I returned to Texas and ran my 18 miler. One word: OOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUCCCCCCHHHHH! Funnily enough, what hurts the most in the days following that fateful run are not my knees, ankles, or calves; instead, my quads are absolutely killing me today. I suppose you could say that I am now running with quads. It is the kind of soreness reminiscent of doing 100 leg presses with 50 lb. weights or lots of uphill sprinting. I don't quite know to what I should attribute this. Suggestions?

I won't bore you with the details of my 18.29 miles (2:56:31). Needless to say, I got the job done. I need to slow my pace, because I am currently running a minute faster than pace (if you don't take into account stopping to drink, etc.). I think part of my soreness might be due to pace. I guess I will find out on Sunday when I have to run my longest training distance: 20 miles. And yes, Sixpack and Deetschei, I will take you at your word: 20 is gonna suck.

Here are some photos from our Drunkrunner Meeting of the Minds:

I know these pictures look like Sixpack and Deetschei saying, "If you take one more picture, I swear I will....." But when I look at it, I like to think they are saying, "Put down that camera and pick up that glass of wine, sista! We got some drinkin' to do!"


Stats:
# of Miles Run in Berkeley: 0

# of DrunkRunner-Approved Beverages Consumed: If I could count 'em, I wasn't drinkin' enough of 'em.