The Drunken Blog

Everybody knows baseball as an analogy for sex. At least, I thought everybody knows what the bases mean, until I brought it up in conversation as fact and I was questioned, “Well, what do you consider second base” they queried. I told them what second base was, but they didn’t agree.

I silently thought to myself, “But it’s second base, how do you not know what second base is?”

For the uninformed, I will list my bases, with which I think most of you will agree:
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Sin City, or as my good friends call it, “Oh, Vegas,” certainly is a sight to behold. Flying in on the plane at 2AM EST, the area around Vegas was completely dark. The city itself was lit, and surprisingly flat. I didn’t really realize how big Vegas was when I drove there several years ago, I had always been confined to the strip, which contains very tall and grandiose buildings. Flying into Vegas, though, you quickly realize that there are people that live in Vegas, and surprisingly they don’t live in high rises.

Vegas, by definition, is a debacle, but this particular trip would have an elevated debauchery level. We got a hotel room in Caesar’s Palace, in the new tower which has an exquisite view of the Bellagio fountains. The room we got was normally $500 a night, we got it for half that thanks to a friend I have living in Vegas. However, because we went through somewhat unconventional means to secure our reservations (two rooms for three nights for seven people), the group wasn’t sure if the trip would even pan out, or if my friend would fall through.
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For some reason competitive running and drinking go together. It’s not like drinking and competitive swimming, which can result in death. Interestingly enough, for casual running and casual swimming, the exact opposite is true – you don’t want to go out for a jog when you’re wasted, and somehow when alcohol and a pool come together the clothes come off and the good times begin. In fact, there are many groups dedicated to running and drinking. They say that they are drinkers with a running problem.

A few months ago I signed up for the Rock N’ Roll Half Marathon in Virginia Beach. I did it for several reasons; the first was that it was extremely convenient (if that’s not an oxymoronic statement, then I don’t know what is). The starting line was literally half a mile away from my mom’s house. Secondly, I convinced myself that it would force me to get in shape by training. In fact, I was so confident that I would train and I would best my time of 2 hours and 5 minutes from the last half marathon that I ran that I signed up for another half marathon in Philadelphia only two weeks after the one in Virginia Beach.
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