The Three Bs. Triple B. Beer Mile.
So it’s a beautiful day out. The sun is shining, temps are in the upper 70s, there’s a slight breeze rustling through the trees but there’s one problem. Nobody is here yet and it doesn’t look like anyone will be here anytime soon. Time to ruin all this nature with the sound of me and my cousin cracking open some beers Soon, Charlie shows up on time and the other party to this race, Ninh and Bella, show up a little late. He claims that there was traffic but in all honesty, I think he’s scared. He knows I’ve been training…the beer part. Not the running part. Definitely not the running part.
It is now time for the Beer Mile.
The idea is that you chug a beer, run a 1/4 mile and then repeat that 3 more times. It sounds kind of horrible and yet, awesome. I’m in. I’ve read someone’s blog who did a half-marathon with a beer every mile but this sounded easier because it’s only one mile. How hard could it be?
The countdown starts and Charlie and Ninh chug their beers and take off. Meanwhile, I’m two beers in (as is Charlie) but I am still sipping on my first race beer (not chugging). Eventually they make it back around the little loop I measured earlier and well, I’m still here. My goal is to do it in under thirty minutes and it’s like 3 minutes in.
They finish their second beer and take off again.
I finish my first and take off at a blistering pace. It’s not actually blistering and somehow it’s not that bad. I’ve got lots of burping going on but eh, what’s the big deal?
Round two was kind of horrible and when I get back I’ve given up on even finishing. I keep drinking just to drink but man, it’s rough. They won’t let me quit.
Lap three is when you realize you’ve messed up. You experience the entire range of emotions that you go through during a 3 hour Welcome Party in about 100 meters. Well, I do anyway…why am I out here? Is it worth it? I shouldn’t have donated platelets today. I shouldn’t have ate a late lunch. I’m 32 years old and still making terrible decisions.
Of those regrets running through my head, I only feel guilty about the platelets one. You should always donate platelets unless you’re on the restricted list!
I finish the lap and it’s dark by now. I don’t want to continue but if I stop I’ll have to try it again and it’s only one beer, one lap. I drink my beer and throw it away. Okay, it was mostly empty. I stand there in shame because EVERYONE hears it and they make sure I know they heard it. Boo and hiss and I have to drink some more out of a fresh can. I’ve been caught cheating and I’d do it again in a heartbeat (without getting caught, I hope). I eventually start running and Charlie’s young daughter was walking faster than I could run. This is a seriously hard event. Every step I take is difficult. I don’t want to lose to a little girl so I slow down and she slows down then I try to take off. She is unimpressed and easily passes me. She eventually gets bored and leaves me in the dust via a slow trot.
There may have been tears shed at that moment :'(
I finish my mile in an amazing 47:xx minutes. That was such a beating. Luckily no vomit but everything wanted to come back up from mile .25 onward.
I’m never doing that again.
After the race I start getting bit by little bugs so we leave to go eat. Blah blah blah I wake up and my face is puffy from the ant/bug bites.
Maybe that’s why my ass is fat and my belly is large. I think I’m being bitten right now.