Pizza + Beer = Fitness

Just to illustrate how weird things get, consider: This morning I had my best run yet (longest and best pace) and weighed in at my lowest in a long time (167 pounds). I feel fitter, trimmer, and stronger than I have in probably a couple of years. The morning started extraordinary well: I woke up feeling great at around 5:30 am, got dressed, and hit the road. Could this unexpected vim be a natural consequence of last night's dinner? Stephanie, Hilly and I drove down to Carlsbad to meet up with the La Jolla crowd (The James Gang?) for Amy's 22nd birthday. We met at Pizza Port, which brews its own exceptional craft beer. My choice was Black Wave Stout to pair with pepperoni and garlic pizza. Now, granted, I limited myself to a single slice of pizza, which I ate slowly and with relish (emotional relish, not chopped pickles). And I slipped my single pint of Black Wave slowly and with relish (not chopped pickles). The obvious conclusion? In a tiny corner of the galaxy, for a brief span of time, the usual cosmic order was overturned: Pizza + Beer = Fitness. The geniuses of science formulate universal laws that give order to our experience, and those laws we must respect. Once in a while, though, a happy exception shows up. Sometimes those exceptions are to be noted and savored . . . with relish.