The trail was shady and not as crowded as I had feared, and we made it up and down all the hills without puking. Here is me at the end. I look maybe a little pukey.
This picture is great because Mike's head is there, and you can't really see the bridge, and there are golfers in the frame, though they are sort of hidden in the shadows. Oh, and I am pretending to run. But take my word for it: the Land's End trail is wonderful.
Still sweaty-sweaty, we picked up frozen hors d'oeuvres at Trader Joe's and prepped for our Superbowl guests. Almost 20 people showed up, and thank god Big Dan saw fit to bring intimidating amounts of pulled pork and tortillas and slaw and potato salad, because my little snacks would not have done the trick. We also tap and float the keg of our specially-homebrewed Brecki Superbowl Pale Ale, which was pretty tasty, if it is ok for me to brag a little. Oh wait, I am already bragging a lot.
The best part: it was a damn good party. Sometimes parties take off, sometimes they don't, and as the host you can make yourself spazzoneurotic wondering why. This one just felt fun and lovely to me, and thinking about it still gives me the warm fuzzies.