Iphiclus: Remove Foot from Mouth

Boy, my neighborhood really showed me who was boss on Sunday. When I got home from work on Sunday the first thing I saw (and heard!)was a cement truck sitting in the intersection covered in green and red balloons with an immense Italian flag hanging out the window, blasting its horn. Then, flying up Graham Ave was a pickup truck loaded with people, including an Italian Granny sitting in the back Clampett-style waving her own Italian flag (twice the size of she) and what appeared to be a bottle of Chianti. The entire neighborhood was draped, soup to nuts (or to give a little shout out to the festivities, ab ovo ad malum, even though that's Latin), in Italian flags. Flags from windows and on vehicles and on poles attached to the buildings. People waving flags in the streets and from their vehicles. Reminded me somewhat of when Kentucky won the NCAA basketball championship when I was in college, although this was decidedly less "riot-esque." Turns out the neighborhood can both have large parades and has people who care about the World Cup. My mistake.

When I got home, my landlady was out on the stoop with her sisters, husband, and lots of younger people (kids? neices and nephews? i nipoti?) Apparently, this hoopla had been going on for several hours. She'd informed Erin that we live in an Italian house and today we'd better be Italians too. When Erin got home I learned she'd been running around the neighborhood with the camera. Turns out our local Italian bakery had closed off its block and set up a giant big screen for the game and the whole neighborhood was out. (By the way, if you want gelato, it's totally worth the trip to Brooklyn to go to Fortunato Brother's.) Here's some of her pictures.

Today's workout was 8.1 miles. When I woke this morning, it was clear a tempo run wasn't happening. My hamstrings were so tight that I was just hopeful they'd loosen up enough that I could do the whole run. Strangely, as I was climbing over the Williamsburg Bridge, my legs continually loosened up and I felt stronger as the run went along. Of course, that's how the Bronx Half Marathon was supposed to go! Oh, well, I guess it was a rebound. The route was across the Williamsburg Bridge O&B, with 2.5 miles at the McCarren Park track (wanted to switch to the softer surface). I'm calling it 8.1 in 63:15 (7:49 pace).

I also realized that I was so annoyed with my Half Mary results that I forgot to put up last week's week-in-review. Here it is: