Back on New Years Eve, after a few drinks, I started talking with a couple of guys about running. It didn’t take long before we decided that we needed to run a beer mile. For those not in the know, a beer mile is generally run around a track. The time starts when you crack open the first can of beer, and you have to drink it at the starting line. When it’s empty, you run 1/4 mile back to the start. Repeat. You get the picture. Four beers, four 1/4 miles. The current world record is 5:04. Yes, that five minutes includes the time it takes to down four beers while standing still.
Anyway, fast forward to Monday night, and I notice that a local running group is hosting a beer mile tomorrow. The thought of running a beer mile in 100F/38C heat made me instantly nauseaus, but I felt some sort of obligation to let the other guys know about it, since we still hadn’t run one. For the record, I don’t drink beer. I drink for effect more than taste, and I don’t like to waste my time on anything other than straight alcohol. So if I’m drinking (which isn’t very often), I’ve usually got a scotch on the rocks in my hand. The last time I drank more than half of a beer was during the Canada/US Olympic hockey game back in 2010. I think I drank three Molson Canadians in the first period (seemed like the patriotic thing to do). I felt sick for the rest of the game. Beer and me just don’t get along that well.
Needless to say, I wasn’t incredibly disappointed when my friends chickened out on the beer mile. I was ready to do it, but I’m 100% certain my mile would have ended early, and with vomit running down my shirt. Although, for the record, official beer mile rules allow you to vomit and still continue – you just need to do a penalty lap at the end.