It's my dirty little secret, and it's time to let it out of the bag: I LOVE a crappy beer post-long-run. Watery, low alcohol, with little to no taste. In Portland, this is the criminal equivalent to ordering a plate of dog shit at a 5 star restaurant. For, as you know, the Pacific NW is host to flavor-infused, carefully crafted, meticulously concocted microbrews; some of the tastiest, hoppiest, most intriguingly named (see: Pliny the Elder, Tricerahops, and Arrogant Bastard) brews on the 3rd planet from the sun.
That's Earth, for those of you who - like myself - attended public school.
But my taste buds want none of the floral essences, or the mysterious hop combinations after I've pounded out 22+ dirty miles out on the trails. What they want is to be treated like a 15 year old sneaking out to the forest preserve with his buddies to pound can upon can of skunk-ass beer.
And so here I sit, having just finished 3 hours and 40 minutes of scuttling up and down singletrack in the woods, with a Foster's beer can beside my keyboard. And it is GLORIOUS. The taste? Hmmm...have you ever watered down a Budwieser with 70% tap water? If yes, then you're getting the idea. If not, I recommend licking the sweat off an alcoholic bum, and imagining it with less body and taste.
On a side note: I'm 4 weeks out from the 100. I feel prepped as all hell to tackle this thing, as I've indicated, although I am a bit nervous about the lack of crew/drop bag access. The race directors had to reroute the course due to some LAME "Wilderness Protection Bill" (BOO, OBAMA, YOU FASCIST, SOCIALIST, KENYA-BORN, NON-AMERICAN, TREE-HUGGER, PRIUS DRIVING FASCIST SOCIALIST...this was an attempt at irony), but wow, EIGHT aid stations will have zero access to crew and drop bags. Which kinda leaves runners hanging by our asses.
One thing is for certain: Once I've crossed the finish, the night will belong to Michelob.