S. met me at the end of my race, I’d run 4 miles, he’d run 8, I had nutz sports bra chafing, S. had bled through his shoe, we are hardcore, this is hardcore. I ate every single thing on my plate, only four miles, but still: it felt earned.

I met B. at Nero Doro and had the breakfast special, just like B. had except my eggs were scrambled with swiss cheese. It was really more brunch. A delayed G train meant I was fifteen minutes late, but ladies who lunch give each other dispensations, I guess.

K. bought some of that amazing cheese we had at Christmas, the kind that’s gooey at the edges, some kind of goat. Perfect. She kept asking me if I wanted a piece of toast and I kept saying no because of some misguided sense that it would take more time, but then I asked how I should handle the cheese and she held up a piece of toast and said, Cheese delivery system. I could have eaten four more slices while I stared into my phone, but then it really was time to go.

Snow day! Which meant working on my five-a-day resolution with a kale salad with carrots, mushrooms, and avocados, plus toast for extra carbs. The world was a frozen ice slick; I was happy to be indoors.

K. whipped up a batch of potato leek soup for lunch because that’s what K. does on a Friday afternoon, paired with toast. We talked about the soup, itself subject to analysis.

K. bought too many cucumbers for cucumber sandwich day in O.’s class, both predictable and omg I love you so much, and so we ate cucumbers for lunch, lots of them chopped and mixed with mint and yogurt, arugula on the side with cheese and toast. K. proclaimed of the round of goat cheese, It tastes like feta! I asked, Is it goat feta? She said, All feta is goat feta! If it’s about food I don’t know a thing about it.

I gobbled a truly random assortment of things from the fridge after my run, just trying to keep myself full enough until K. and O. got to Brooklyn for an early pizza dinner. That’s what happens when you put in your ten miles at the awkward hour of 1:30 in the afternoon.

K.’s soup was even better day two, it was the ginger. I toasted some of the bread from last night too, accidentally burned a piece, sent it smoking up through the toaster. I made O. a bowl but he did not want it even though last night he loved it. He ate toast and cheese, the cheddar kind.

I felt just like Owl at Home, eating a bowl of hot pea soup and a slice of toast, cold enough that if I’d had a blanket to hand I would have pulled it up over my lap.

M. drove us over to one brunch place and the line was too long for how hungry I was so we kept driving to another egg place and I ordered the special Seattle Scramble and ate it as fast as I could.