Don't Forget The Bathroom Reading

Morning Workout
RUN
90 minutes
Heart Rate Zone: Lactate Threshold (Zone 2)

Random Comments: Mental Note: Remember not to eat spicy hot chicken wings plus a bbq chicken and jalapeno pizza the night before a big morning run unless I want to toss and turn in bed all evening as the spiciness plays whack-a-mole with my intestines, only to get up in the wee hours of the pre-dawn morning feeling very angry and quite a bit tired before I venture out into the morning air for my run, and realize thirty minutes later that taking a sip of my special carbo-drink concoction doesn't make me feel satiated as much as it awakens the demons in the pit of my stomach who proceed to play trampoline bouncing games on my bowels. Cause I know if this happens, I won't drink anything else on the run until well after an hour when I realize that the dehydration-fueled delusions have accomplished a successful coup d'etat on my brain leaving me speaking-in-tongues in tongues I shouldn't be speaking. And eventually I will take a few gulps of water from the passing fountain and continue on my way only to realize a few seconds later that the demons no likey the water and in retaliation decide to unharness their vengence with pointed pitchforks as they start poke poke poking away at my internal organs, turning the previous evenings gastronomic ecstasy into a pain-filled, leg crossing, burning, throbbing catastrophe.

On the other hand, I could also just make sure I've got something really good to read in the bathroom.
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Star Spotting Of The Day: Cynthia Nixon. You know her, you love her from Sex & The City. Apparently she's in some Broadway show right now. Or at least I think I saw her in the New York Times' Arts & Leisure section yesterday. I'm pretty sure it was in the Theatre part too. Of course, I could be completely wrong. That's been known to happen. A lot.

Location: San Vicente Boulevard in Brentwood

What She Was Doing: Walking down the street. She probably just came out of Whole Foods since she was walking away from the front door. Come to think of it, I'd say that's a pretty fair bet, if I were a betting man. Which, by the by, I am.