Leaving work tonight, I walked to the train with one of my coworkers, but then had to miss it because I didn’t have enough loaded onto my Charlie card. I trudged up the stairs as the train slipped away, and had 12 minutes to wait on the platform. “C’est la vie!” – I texted to Devon, but of course I had Laurie Colwin’s ‘Home Cooking: A Writer in the Kitchen’ to keep me company on my Kindle, so I’ve learned that a few extra minutes to myself are always welcome, and nothing to get frustrated about.

My reading was stalled however, as across the tracks, an unstable woman railed on about Menino, his wife, and Caroline Kennedy’s entitlement, and how they aren’t “of the people”. A cloud is over Boston, I should note, for those not living here, as the loss of Mayor Menino was truly devastating news to anyone who has lived in the city. He was a kind and giving man. As she yelled on, a man with a thick Boston accent stopped to disagree with her, and we all watched agape for some minutes until a train rolled in and they both got in and left. I put away my Kindle, and waited for the red line to Alewife to come.

There was no broccoli tonight. I had the best intentions of broccoli. Something green, a little bitter. The truth is, I was tired, and I wanted hot dogs and beans, one of the dishes I’ve been craving since childhood. My grandfather used to make them – he always kept individually saran-wrapped hot dogs in the freezer to microwave in a pinch. For many decades, he was in the meat business, and you could say that hot dogs, in a way, are a sort of family legacy.

I used to favor exclusively Pearl’s, a family owned business in Massachusetts that boasts the best: “Once you have them you will agree that Pearl frankfurts are the frankfurts that all others should be measured by”; and I still keep my eye out for them in the store. But now I’m more likely to pick up a package of Applegate organic uncured beef hot dogs, and the organic baked beans from Trader Joe’s, which are sweet, but not sickly so.

You’ll want to warm your hot dogs in the pan before heating up the beans, otherwise you’ll have cold hot dogs, and boiling hot beans! And instead of vegetables, there were warm, buttery crescent rolls. The kind that come in a can, and give you a tiny heart attack when you break the seal and the dough bursts forth from the cardboard with a large pop.

I’m not particularly nervous about my race on Saturday, but I know that I need to be well hydrated all week long to deal with the potential heat in Savannah. So I’ve been drinking water like a boss. And then there are the sneezers, and the snifflers, who have breeched my safety bubble while packed like sardines on the red line. I’m starting to get a little paranoid – is that a scratch in my throat? Am I going to get sick? Tonight I went to the store to see if I could find a packet of Dr. Dahl’s ColdChaser, which I got in my head was going to ward off all possible sickness, but I’m pretty sure that they are only available at Whole Foods and other stores in California. So I’ll keep on hydrating, and hope for the best.