I was all set to spend the entire weekend recovering in bed from my 20-mile run like any reasonable person would do. But Matthew and Craig are anything but reasonable, and they dragged me (because I sure as hell couldn't walk) to the beach to go sailing on Sunday.
I've never been sailing. And it was awesome! The water was delightfully warm (summer is here!), the waves were light, the sky was blue and the conversation pretty much stayed focused on the New Yorker cartoon caption contest. (Craig submitted a deliciously clever caption this week, and if it makes the finals I'll be sure to beg you-all to vote for it.) So it was a perfect day.
Best of all, I didn't drown the whole time. Not once!
I didn't have any jaunty nautical outfits to wear (I'd've been screwed if anyone recognized me and demanded I perform a chorus of "Anything Goes") so I wore the next best thing: a tiny black Speedo. And when our adventure at sea (well, technically at lake) was over, Matthew snapped a picture of me standing on the starboard side (we nautical people say "starboard" a lot) of our boat, which we nautical people call a "cat o' nine tails." Or something like that.
In any case, here I am holding in my stomach and pretending like I know the difference between a yaw and a clove hitch. And feeling all smug because I didn't drown. Not once.