Done!

I did it!

Okay, it's taken me nearly two weeks to get round to writing about it, but I'm happy to be able to say that I have now completed my first marathon!

It was a fantastic experience, and I enjoyed it so much that I'm even starting to think about which one I want run next.

The picture was taken just after I finished.
The guy in the background looks pretty excited, but I just look knackered!

The best bits:

Crossing the finish line with a cheesy grin on my face

Telling everyone about it at work the next day and re-living the whole thing

Feeling totally fit and invincible (about two-thirds through the training)

Being part of a little 'Sunday running team'

Being amazed at what my body can do / put up with!

Spotting people I knew in the crowd just when I needed a bit of a lift

Hearing my name called out on by the commentator as I came in to the finish

Getting to run into the Olympic Stadium

Treating myself to new running gear as a treat afterwards

Managing to raise money for the Marie Curie Cancer Fund

Surviving the whole thing with no significant injury

The worst bits:

Discovering whole new levels of leg pain after around 30km!

Having to have a cold bath after the race

Being so sore for a couple of days afterwards that I swore every time I stepped off a curb

The lack of supporters along the way for most of the route - very few people in Amsterdam seem to care much about the Marathon

Feeling like I'd been hit by a car after having 'a bad run day'

Worrying that every little ache or pain will put me out of the race (last third of the training)

Gavin (my training buddy) having to drop out through injury

Having to wake up on a Sunday morning and go out training for 3 hours instead of lying in

Spending a fortune on massage, physio and chiropractor bills.

Now I have to find another goal to motivate me, before I become too used to sitting on my sofa eating M and M's. It's nearly time for the start of the snowboard season.... time to get some different muscles in shape.

On the mend

Okay, I'll stop moaning now. I've been to the chiropractor who re-arranged practically every bone in my body, invested in an hour's massage and a days rest and hopefully that will do the trick.

I've just been re-reading the story of Cliff Young, which puts all my whinging into perspective... if you've not heard of this guy before, you must read his story.

A bad week for running

I ran this morning for 2 hours... just a slow pace, around 18km... and it was terrible. Now I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Both knees are killing me, my back is locked up and I'm exhausted. Please, please, please don't let this happen on Marathon Day. I had a rotten cold for a few days during the week but I thought that I was fully recovered. Let's just hope this is just a bad day and not a warning for the race. Something is telling me I should rest up for a while, because what we did today was less than half the distance I need to run in two weeks time. Aaarrgggghhhh....

Three and a Half Hours Done, Another Hour (???) To Go....

I know I run the risk of becoming a bit of a running bore, but bear with me for another three weeks until the Marathon obsession phase ends. In the meantime I'm going to keep writing about it. It's hard not to, as I seem to be spending more and more hours every week getting ready for the 21st October.

This week I made a couple of personal breakthroughs... firstly on Wednesday by running 5km faster than I've ever done before during a morning training session in the Westerpark and then today in the Amsterdamse Bos by running the furthest(and longest) that I have ever managed before. It's so rewarding to realise that all the hard work is showing itself, especially as my new i-pod chip has a great little gimmick that means that either Paula Radcliffe or Lans Armstrong congratulate you direct into your ears when you do so! I realised today that the movement sensor is callibrated all wrong, so the graphs below aren't 100% accurate, but at least it gives me some idea of what I've been doing:





I was completely wiped out after the run today. It was pretty cold and poured with rain, so by the time we got to the end point I had pools of water in my shoes, was covered in mud and was fantasising about large slices of cake and warm baths. Luckily Elise 'guardian angel of runners' Samperez collected us and walked our little limping group to her place for hot showers and big servings of homemade lasagne. Never before has lasagne been so appreciated (or disappeared so quickly). The picture below (thanks to Jakob and his high-tech Sat Nav toy) shows the funny tangled-up route that we ran. I'm glad that the good people at Phanos were navigating and not me!

Dam tot Dam Race 2007

After all the hard work and preparation that leads up to the Dam tot Dam race (an annual 1o mile/16km road race between Amsterdam and Zaandam), I'm happy to say that it was a really successful day yesterday. The sun shone, the skies were blue, everyone was going around with big smiles on their faces, and no one collapsed of heat exhaustion. Phew. Every year the task of organising the work team gets bigger, with more and more runners getting the bug. This year I had 100 runners and 15 crew to look after, both at the start line and at the post-race hospitality in Zaandam. Here I am with Elise and Elisa, just before we left for the start line. Cheesy grins all round.

I ran a tough race this time, and my lungs were fit to burst by the time I reached the finish line, but I did what I set out to do, which was to (finally, after 4 years of trying) break the 1 hr 30 barrier.... and I did it by the skin of my teeth (1hr, 29mins, 44 seconds!). That's around 4 mins faster than last year.


The rest of the team seemed happy with their results too, but even happier once they got their post-race massage and a couple of cans of cold beer!

Lots of photos of the day online here. Also funny videos of me looking knackered at various points during the race here.

28km down, 14km to go....

As the Amsterdam marathon looms nearer (just five weeks to go now) the training runs are getting longer and longer. I'm now in the habit of getting up early on Sunday mornings to slog it out around various routes for an increasing amount of hours. I can't walk down stairs without saying 'ow, ow, ow' out loud every Monday morning, but it feels great to be breaking a personal record every week, and still to be standing after three hours on the road! I guess that running is good for the soul, if not for the knees.

I run with a little training team of colleagues (Gavin, Elisa and Jakob) which is really motivating and makes those Sunday runs much more enjoyable. We've been getting creative with our routes and finding places in and around Amsterdam we've never been to before. Today the team were treated to 'Lucy's Four Park Special', all planned in advance on Google Earth (what DID we do before the internet?) involving loops of Westerpark, Vondelpark, Rembrantpark and Erasmus Park. The graph above is due to my new shoe chip, that connects with my i-pod, allowing me to upload the data from each run to a website which tracks my progress. It's all very 21st century... all I need now is bionic knees and there'll be nothing stopping me.

Pimp my bike

I got to Centraal Station on Thursday night after work and went to collect my bike, which I'd left locked in its usual spot (amongst the other billion bikes) and realised that someone had nicked the front wheel. There is nothing unusual about this, as it's a well-known fact that the junkies help themselves to bikes (or parts of bikes) on a daily basis round there to sell on the street. However, I was really annoyed because I had to drag it home 2 miles or so. Dragging a one-wheeled bike is not an experience I would recommend. Not only was it extremely heavy, but the world and its dog seemed to think it was okay to comment/laugh/inform me that I'd lost something/offer to nick a wheel off someone else's bike on my behalf, etc, etc.

Instead I carried on dragging until I finally reached my local bike repair store, where it remained locked to a lamppost until the next morning (when I could get a second hand wheel fitted). They only had one wheel available, so now I have a black bike with a white tyre, which looks a bit strange. This just added to the fact that my poor old oma fiets (grandmother bike) really has seen better days. I bought it from new around 3 years ago - it looked so sweet and shiny with a giant silk sunflower tied to the handlebars. Now it's covered in rust, someone nicked the sunflower, the dynamo lights stopped working, I lost the mudguard and bent my pedal. Despite all this I'm stupidly attached to the thing, and have been known to pat it on the saddle every now and again as if it were a dog. I'm just happy that the junkies took the wheel and left me the bike... it's usually the other way round.

Chips on the Strip with the Brits

Okay, so this isn't strictly speaking an Amsterdam Adventure, but it's hard to seek adventures in Amsterdam when you happen to be staying in the Algarve for the whole week. I nevertheless promised a weekly update, so I'm shifting the focus to Portugal for this entry.



Me and my friend Elise have had a great week sunning ourselves on sandy shores and return to Holland feeling nicely relaxed (and a bit chilly). I must admit, when we first arrived I was shocked by the resort (Albufeira) which had to be seen to be believed. Our apartment was slap-bang on 'The Strip' which proudly displayed its neon signs, strip clubs, theme bars, fish and chip shops, Irish pubs, football bars showing Sky TV, and hoards of Brits who seemed dedicated to the job of exposing rolls of white flab. We vowed never again to book a holiday on the internet late at night after we'd downed a couple of bottles of wine. As we lay in our beds at 4am on our first night there, listening to the pounding house music coming from the bars outside and the drunk Dutch boys upstairs shouting and slamming doors, we thought that things couldn't get much worse... until it started to rain.

The next morning we all sat around dejectedly at the 'welcome meeting' sipping our complimentary orange squash (no expense spared there) and trying to look interested as our enthusiastic Dutch rep attempted to sell us excursions. Not an easy thing to do with the rain hammering down on the awning. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Luckily, that afternoon the sun appeared and it was blue skies all the way from there on. We discovered that the 'Old Town' was much nicer and easily accessible by 'fun train' (an entertainment in itself) so we made daily trips there, grabbing our favourite spot on the sandy beach and chilling out with books and i-pods. I got to take regular dips in the ocean (which always makes me a very happy girl indeed) and became a dab-hand at beach tennis. Once we discovered that we could buy mint-choc-chip icecream we suddenly forgot all about our initial concerns and decided that the Algarve was pretty cool after all. Why the Dutch never discovered mint-choc-chip is one of life's little disappointments for me. By the way, the 'noisy Dutch Boys upstairs' left midweek which gave us welcome relief from the 4am 'klompen feestjes' (clog parties... or at least this is what it sounded like).

Away from the Strip we found some great restaurants which provided some mouth-watering seafood (can't get enough of the stuff) all served by lovely friendly people. My marathon training didn't suffer either (but my calves did with all those hills!).

By the end of the week we were laughing about 'The Strip' and had fun making some photo projects there. If you can't beat them, join them...

Quacking up

The other day I was cycling along, minding my own business, when I caught a glimpse of another cyclist, travelling in the opposite direction. There was something weird about his face. As he cycled closer I realised that he was wearing a false beak. He saw me looking and started to quack out loud. I love Amsterdam. It's the only place in the world where a man dressed as a duck on a bike offers you a performance for free... and it seems totally normal.

Pluk de Nacht

They were screening 'Eagle Vs. Shark' (a black comedy from New Zealand) as part of the film festival 'Pluk de Nacht' last night. Me and my friend Natalie decided to go along. It was so great to cycle over there, set up a couple of camping chairs next to the water, grab a beer and settle down to watch a good movie under the night sky. Okay, the weather isn't exactly typical for August at the moment, but we brought blankets with us and there were a few bonfires burning around the place, making it the cosiest film experience I can remember.

Shoving up at de Parade

Every year De Parade comes to town and I fully intend to visit, but this year was the first time that I finally got round to it. I had so much fun I kicked myself for not trying it before.

De Parade (pronounced par-ah-der) is a festival ground full of performance tents and trailers, each concealing a potential treat. Visitors queue to buy tickets for short performances, which happen at regular times throughout the evening. The whole thing goes on for a couple of weeks in Amsterdam each summer. The festival brochure gives a vague description of what to expect, but you never really know until you turn up and take your place on the bench inside of one of the tents (and if last night was anything to go on then it's also the chance to make friends quickly with your neighbours....there was a good deal of 'shuffling up' to pack us all in there).

While you wait for your performance there are plenty of cozy cafes and bars set up, strung with little lights and offering temptations such as tapas, a decent bottle of wine or lovely Italian icecream. The atmosphere last night was fantastic (helped by the fact it was one of those rare evenings this year when it didn't rain).

The whole idea of going to De Parade was to check out a show by Spinvis, until I realised that the last performance was last Thursday (another great piece of organisation by me). Instead we saw two shows, randomly selected from the brochure. Both were completely daft; one was great and the other was pretty bad (a couple of people mucking around to various records, but it made me laugh anyway... mostly due to the fact that we'd be quaffing wine the whole evening). The second show was hilarious: 'Schuif es Op' (which I think translates as 'shove up') by a 'Mr Bean-style' cabaret artist called Eric Koller who entertained us all with some clever visual sketches, chosen jukebox-style by the audience.

I regretted the wine today though - marathon training is just getting to that point where the body complains if you ask it to run in the heat for a couple of hours with no water and a hangover. Surprise surprise....

Beach volleyball without the sunburn

Last week's new 'Amsterdam Experience' was a visit to 'The Sand', a beach volleyball centre nowhere near a beach. In fact it was inside a warehouse in the middle of an ugly industrial estate, stuck out near to not-so-glamorous Sloterdijk station in the North of Amsterdam. The Dutch are very good at dumping some sand and a few potted palm trees where it suits them and creating their own seaside experience. In fact, they'd done a great job in creating a bit of an ambience, and although it wasn't quite Bondai beach, it was great to feel the sand between my toes and to make a brave (but not entirely successful) attempt at scoring some points in a mini-tournament played with my workmates.


I created my own mini Bondai beach on my bathroom floor on my return. You'd be amazed how much sand fell out of my surf shorts when I took them off for a shower. Oh, the glamorous life of us volleyball pro's....

Handbags at dusk and home while the birds are singing

I'm aware that this blog hasn't really been living up to it's name recently.
So in the name of Amsterdam Adventures I'm planning on getting out there more often and finding some. I've been busy reminding myself that there's a big city just outside my door that is only partly discovered, so from now on I'm going to do something new at least once a week and will write about it. Promises, promises...

I kicked off last night by visiting the new Amsterdam Tassen Museum Hendrikje on the Herengracht for a launch by handbag designers Hard Roze. This wasn't my idea, as I'm someone who has never really given handbags much thought, but a friend invited me and hey, my Amsterdam-discovery mission has to start somewhere. The museum is housed in a beautifully renovated canal-side location(if you're ever looking for the perfect place to take high tea this has to be it) and we got to see the young designers' range as well as lots of weird and wonderful bags in the permanent collection.

That was the civilised part of the evening. From then on things disintegrated into a blurry bar-hop, and I'm trying not to think about the permanent liver-damage that may have been caused. We ended up drinking bad scotch in some dodgy jazz bar off Leidseplein then (bizarrely) trying to buy an apple at 5am. My bike must have a homing device on it as I managed to find my way back to my apartment, lock up the bike, remove my lights, climb the stairs, unlock the door, lock myself in and sit upright on the sofa. I woke up two hours later (8am) in the same position. I wasn't really looking for this kind of adventure when I set out for the evening, but I reckon I'll remember the experience longer than the handbags...

A soggy week

I'm getting used to having rainwater dripping off the end of my nose by the time I reach home these days, but this week has been exceptionally soggy.

As a cyclist in Amsterdam I'm accustomed to the rain and if I have the right gear on I actually don't mind it at all. However, the rain has been pouring by the bucket-load for weeks now and I think if it goes on much longer I'm going to develop webbed feet.

But for a change, it was lake water that was responsible for getting me drenched on Thursday. I organised a group sailing trip to Aalsmeer for people at work and for once the rain stayed off and the sun made an appearance. Made no difference though, as the waves were coming over the edge of the boat and smacking us in the face, much to the amusement of everyone. It's not too comfortable sitting in a puddle of water, but it was too much fun to notice too much.


Last night I went to an open air concert in the Westerpark (just at the end of my street) to see Keane. Of course, it rained all evening and we all got a soaking again, but the gig was great and everyone was in a good mood. I've got a sore throat from singing this morning, but just for a while... it has stopped raining....

Home Sweet Home

The sun is shining once more over Amsterdam and life is pretty good here. I've been discovering the joys of living in the Westerpark. I can't get enough of my new neighbourhood. It's fab to be able to get up in the morning, open up the balcony doors and look out over the world with a cup of tea.

The corner shop over the street sells lovely Turkish bread, fresh mint and all manner of handy stuff. There's a great bakery a block away that makes fresh muffins by the tray-load and I can get from bed to park in around 10 mins if I fancy a morning run. The neighbours are friendly, the cycle ride (en route to work) to Centraal Station up the Haarlemerdijk is a joy (there's always something to look at in that street) and I can go out dancing for free on a Saturday night at the end of my street.

The apartment is now fully kitted out (I've had to create an exclusion zone around Ikea before I go bankrupt). The sofa-bed has been used by various friends and family on visits, Mojitos have been made by the dozen in the name of house-warming and my name is on the doorbell. I think I can safely say it's now home!

Writing nonsense in the name of cookie avoidance

I baked a large batch of chocolate chip cookies for a visitor, who's just phoned to cancel. In my attempt to avoid working my way through them, I thought I'd catch up on a bit of overdue blogging. The cookies are in the cupboard calling my name and I have an incredible lack of self-control when it comes to these things. Especially on a grey sunday afternoon when there's no one around to remind me to stop after the fifth one.

So I'm going to focus my attention away from the cupboard and towards the keyboard.

What's been happening recently?

I have become the owner of an extremely pink phone. I don't see myself as a particularly 'pink' kind of girl, but it was a good deal and it can take short movies. As a result I have a Barbie hot-line and can post some very bad quality films on youtube. One day I might even work out how to embed them in my blog, but until then you'll have to visit the site and do so at your peril - this has to be the least educational and most addictive experience on the web.

I've been in the UK visiting family for a few days and catching up on Oscar's newest skills. He can now say 'mama', 'daddy', 'sweetcorn' and 'toast' but hasn't managed to master 'auntie Lucy' yet. I've set him homework so he's prepared for my next visit. He's cuter than ever these days.

While I was there, I changed my homepage so it looks a little less like a 12 year old Japanese girl designed it. Actually, my sister Claire did (thanks Claire), as well as burning me the first 6 episodes of the new Doctor Who series on DVD. Sometimes sisters are just great.

On April 30th I celebrated my fifth Queen's Day since moving to Amsterdam. How time flies. I spent this one in the nearby Jordaan (fantastic to be a stone's throw from one of the nicest areas of the city). Bought myself a tatty old wine rack and some computer speakers with terrible sound quality on the Free Market. Good job I only parted with 7 Euro 50. You live and learn. Met up with some fellow revellers (is that Dave or Mandy??) for a bit of a jump around to the bands in the sunshine and walked home with a smile on my face.

I'm still in love with the new apartment and have been occupying myself with various projects around the place in the recent weeks. This mostly involves making a huge mess until I'm happy with the results.

What else?
I've become addicted to my Fatboy. It fits nicely between the balcony doors and when the sun is shining I can be found snuggled in there with a cup of tea and my feet sticking between the railings. Bliss. Good job I've entered the Amsterdam marathon this year because the cookies and the fatboy might need a bit of balancing out.

New Home

I love my new apartment.

It’s as simple as that. Even the process of hauling boxes up stairs on moving day last week was a pleasure, because it meant the long wait was over and I finally get my own little place in the world.

I got the keys on the 2nd, which was a surreal moment. Piles of papers were signed and terms and conditions explained, then bang- I was a house-owner..As a non-native I was legally obliged to employ the services of a translator at the signing, who cheerfully summarised the mortgage arrangements as ‘basically, they’ve got you by the short and curlies’. Trying to shake off the feeling that I had just become slave to my bank, I drove with the previous owners (the very-lovely Luisella and Koen) from the notary’s office to my new place, clutching a bunch of keys in my hand that had now mysteriously become mine. Everything looked great at the apartment (no nasty surprises, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou L and K). Then suddenly I was left alone, standing in the middle of my new empty space. After months of waiting for this moment I realized that I didn’t have a clue what to do! I opened and closed the drawers and doors, switched on and off the switches then sat in the middle of the floor trying to adjust to being there. With the absence of someone to share the experience with, the whole thing took on an unreal quality and I was beginning to think I dreamed it.

However, reality soon kicks in after three afternoons spent on your hands and (bruised) knees oiling the floors. But despite being hard work it was great going over to the place early before work, sticking on the radio and gradually seeing the results of my efforts show. Now it felt like mine!

Moving day (last Friday) went without a hitch and I then became a three-day one-woman Ikea furniture assembly machine. I have blisters on the palms of my hands to prove it. The place has come together surprisingly fast and I can’t believe that I only moved in a week ago. Now my next problem is trying to persuade myself to leave the front door every now again….

Lucky Cow

I can't get enough of the mountains this year, and am a spoiled cow because I'm going for my third trip of the season this week. I'm going to squeeze three more days of snowboarding from my schedule before I return to the financial responsibility of a brand new mortgage and significantly less disposable income for a while (I sign for my apartment keys a week tomorrow!)

I just got back last weekend from a week in Champagny (just under La Plagne) with my family. I enjoyed blue skies every day, the chance to play with my nephew Oscar and to finally find my confidence on a board. I discovered the joy of snowboarding alone which significantly improved my ability to read a piste-map (I usually tag along like a lost sheep having no clue where I am).

The bus journey there was less exciting, mostly because the driver decided that his idea of DVD entertainment was to show us the safety film. Normally they show pretty terrible movies, but at least this takes my mind off the fact that my neck simply isn't designed for sleeping in an upright position. Lots of opportunity to chat in Dutch to my fellow passengers though, which was great practice (things are finally starting to improve at last with my feeble attempts at the language).

So next week it's Les Deux Alpes for more fun (and hopefully fresh powder and blue skies).
Life is pretty good!!

Bike Trip

Sometimes the Dutch have really good ideas. Like the OV-fiets card (public transport bike card). You have to pay a stupid amount of money to put your own bike on a train here, so instead you can take out a membership for a year which entitles you to hire special blue bikes from any major train station for just a couple of euro. You can cycle around all day, explore new places and return the bikes to the station before heading home. The bikes come complete with locks and lights and are pretty comfortable (much better than my own oma fiets, which is long overdue some TLC).


Me and my friend Debbie did this today. We hired bikes outside Haarlem station and cycled out to the beach at Bloemendaal in the sunshine for a lovely lunch by the sea. Highly recommended!

Goodbyes

Living in Amsterdam means that you get to mix with people from all over the World on a regular basis, which is fantastic, but the downside of this is that people who you get attached to often move away at what seems like a moment's notice. I've learned to get used to this transient experience, where people suddenly 'up sticks' and move to the other side of the planet. It's sad when they do, but I'm going to have some great holidays in the future visiting them all!

My lovely running-buddy Mairead moved back home to Ireland just after Christmas and now my solo runs just aren't the same without the good-old gossips we used to have. Then our wonderful yoga teacher Lisa returned to Oz. Another great friend Debbie has just three more weeks left in Amsterdam before she goes back home to California - one more difficult goodbye. Last night I went to a leaving do for Laura, who has been working on my team as a physiotherapist. I've only had a short while to get to know her but she's such fantastic company that I'm going to miss her quite a bit (she'll no doubt be on a plane as I type, winging her way back to Australia).

Some friends of Laura and her husband Kees organised a real 'Hollandse' evening for them where we all ate ertwensoep, stamppot and appeltaart - the classic Dutch dishes. My stomach was so full that I don't think I'll need to eat for another week. Laura won't have too much need for the airline food!

Last Saturday marked my four year anniversary of living in Holland. I can't believe how fast time flies. I'm sure there will be some new fresh-faces at work or my new neighbourhood that will become friends and so the adventure continues.... long may it last!

A reminder of how much I love British Public Transport

I popped home at the weekend to visit my family back in England. Actually, the word 'popped' seems inappropriately light considering the effort it took to get there for such a short space of time. My journey started on Saturday morning and after travelling by train, plane, bus, another train, another bus, another train then a car I finally managed to get to Portsmouth during the late afternoon. Only to turn around and fly back again less than 24 hours later. Why do I always choose weekends when they're doing maintenance on the railway lines to visit England? Or are they doing this every weekend these days?

A place just for me

It's official - I will get the keys to my new apartment before Easter.
I can't even begin to convey just how excited I am at the prospect of moving in. It's been a long wait during some tough months and it seems like moving day will give me the fresh start I crave. This little flat is more than bricks and mortar. After more than fifteen years of paying rent to various landlords I actually get to invest in my own property - and along with it goes sole use of the fridge, total control of the remote, glorious peace and quiet, and the option to paint the walls whatever colour I desire. A place I can quite literally call my own.... and I plan to relish every moment.

Skinless Wonder

It's been too long since I blogged.
Since then there's been Christmas, New Year, a ski trip, a weekend in Edinburgh, countless days in Hoofddorp (waiting, waiting, waiting for those keys...) snow, speed-dating, weird-dating, pancake-making, corpse-viewing (yes really), excessive chocolate eating (then many hours of training to get rid of the results), hip-hop dancing, bad-taste parties, and all manner of weird and wonderful things that have all gone unrecorded.

I'm not even going to attempt to tackle the whole list, but I will mention a little about those corpses! It's a strange way to spend a Saturday night, but me and my friend Elise went to see the 'Bodies' Exhibition in Amsterdam last weekend. For those who haven't heard of this, it's a display of dead bodies that have been plasticised and preserved for the 'entertainment' and education of the public. When I put it like this, it sounds pretty sick, but it was incredible to see the layers of the body peeled away. I have always been fascinated by muscles and bones, but I did feel sorry for the poor guy that ended up being posed in the undignified role of 'skinless darts player'. I'm not sure I'd want to donate my body to medical science only to be stuck eternally trying to hit a bullseye. All he needed was a pint of beer and the effect would be complete.