It was nearly 11 p.m. when I started the four-mile 35th Street Loop. I jogged it in 44:19, with splits of 11:00, 11:17, 11:04, and 10:58, and felt great. As a consequence, there's a chance I won't sleep more than two or three hours between now and the 12th annual Christmas Hash Run, and the Green Bay Packers' Cooper Bowl match with the Fat Chicks.
OVERHEARD
"If your hands ain't greasy, you don't like ribs."
— southern guest on a PBS2, midnight cooking show, making me hungrier than two motherfuckers. If Craig's ran a graveyard shift, I swear to god I'd drive to DeValls Bluff right now
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