Day 73 Fringe Benefits

Last night I thought that the marathon for me was over. My beloved husband of thirty years and I went out to dinner to celebrate our anniversary. It was a small restaurant, off the beaten path. We hadn't been there before and didn't know what to expect. There were just a few tables scattered around a fireplace. The room was quiet and warm. Our server, Pete, also labored part-time as a woodworker apprentice, making furniture. The menu only had a few selections, based on regional southern dishes. Bill ordered a salad that boasted fried green tomatoes and bacon vinagrette. Mine had chunks of sharp cheddar and smoky morsels of thick sliced bacon. We both ordered trout, dusted, grilled and laid on a bed of shrimp and coursely ground grits that had been simmered and bathed in butter and cream. At one point, I turned to Bill and asked him if it would be impolite to lick the plate. The flavors were at addiction level. For dessert, Bill had a new spin on southern bread pudding, one made of rich chocolate cake and pecan bread, accompanied by coffee ice cream drizzled with a bitter chocolate sauce. I had a bowl of honey-based ice cream mixed with sunflower seeds, Marcona almonds, and dried cranberries, decorated on top with freshly candied pecans. When the meal came to a reluctant end, I first questioned how in the world I could ever run again as stuffed as I was. And then I questioned how I was going to even walk to the parking lot. Wheelchair, anyone?
In high school, our daughter Kate used to say, "Run seven miles a day and eat whatever you want."
Well, yesterday I did.