No. Freaking. Way.

Absolutely ridiculous ginormous pizza. With all the toppings, of course.
Absolutely ridiculous ginormous pizza. With all the toppings, of course.

This might be what’s wrong with America; we live for the spectacle.

My older sister (on the left) is in town visiting for a week. So the other night, she and my other sister (on the right) and my dad (wearing sunglasses indoors at night – no, he isn’t blind) and I (white hat) went to Big Lou’s Pizza. We’d never been there before and since they were featured on Man Vs Food, we thought it would be fun to check it out.

The place was packed. While waiting in line, we debated on what size to get. For reasons mainly of a touristic nature, we settled on the impractically large 42″ pie. With all the toppings, of course. The cost for this monster pizza and four drinks? $95.53, which did not include the tip.

We were seated and eagerly awaited our order. I noticed that the guy that brings the pizza out has a spotter that clears the way to the table. Several other tables had ordered the 42″er as well. We got our hopes up every time we saw the guys hauling out a pie. Then our waiter brought us these long rectangular platters for our pizza, and then let us know ours was coming out shortly. When the pizza finally arrived, our table was just barely able to accommodate it.

We took a few photos of us and the pizza. And then we ate. And it was really good pizza. I was keen on the olives they used. They were really olive-y. Likely oil-brined olives, not those cheap flavorless water brined kind. I devoured my first slice in no time and began working on my second. Chewing away at this monsterpiece, I wondered what it would be like to be Adam Richman, the Man in Man Vs Food. He’s always talking about hitting the wall…

And that’s when I hit the wall. After only a slice and a half, I was stuffed. I couldn’t eat any more, the joy had left the food. I was slightly disappointed. I felt I like eating a third slice would have been an accomplishment. Wait, what?!! I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I was high on pizza. My sisters and my dad hit the wall shortly after me. Final tally: my older sister and I downed two slices each, my other sister and my dad a single slice each. Half of the pizza remained intact. We packed it up and took it home.

*   *   *   *   *

So what to make of this? What lessons can be drawn from this experience? How does this relate to running? Does this relate to running?

Actually, yes. It does relate to running. It’s a writing exercise.

Specifically, I am trying to write in a clear and concise manner. Because what’s the point of keeping a blog if I can’t write clearly? How can my stories about running help you if I cannot articulate them? Just like running, or making art, I need to write regularly to get better at it. And sometimes, it’s good to do weird random things that you wouldn’t normally do, like write a little story about ordering a 42″ pizza.

(P.S. Don’t get the anchovies. My sister got them on the side = food poisoning.)

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