I felt my big toe push a hole through my fishnet stockings as I stepped on the gas and drove south on Fairfax. I nibbled on the broken corner of my dark red thumb nail and made a right turn onto Pico Boulevard. I thought about lighting a cigarette to calm myself but didn’t.
I was driving to see “Vertigo Road”, a band that my recently ex-fiance and I knew quite well and my social fears were getting the best of me. They were playing at a bar with one of those anti-esoteric names I can’t remember exactly, like “The Place”, or “The Gig”, or “The Thing”.
It was an unseasonably cool night for Los Angeles in early September so, when the closest parking space I found was 8 blocks from the bar, I knew I wouldn’t mind walking. I flipped down the mirrored visor to check my lipstick and stared at my reflection for a moment. I hadn’t seen many of these people since the break up and I knew they would search my face and demeanor for clues as to how I was doing. I wanted to look amazing. I wanted to seem like I had it all figured out. I knew that was going to take some effort. I applied more lipstick.
When I turned off my Honda, it suddenly sounded like I had parked in a war zone. Sirens screamed and glass shattered. I was overtaken by the smell in the air. It was luscious and earthy and charred. I shut my eyes and gulped the aroma down for a moment and then walked quickly toward the commotion on Pico. It was a fire. A big one. And as mesmerizing as the flames were, nothing could compare to the smell.
For some reason, I recently had a hankering for Chocolate Mayonnaise cake, a staple in our house when I was growing up. If you're not familiar with it, it's a wonderfully moist chocolate cake that was created, according to food legend, by the wife of a Hellman's mayonnaise salesman to help increase his sales. Although it may seem like an odd ingredient, the mayonnaise is used in place of eggs and oil, making it handy to throw together with just a few pantry ingredients.
The biggest problem with dating an ultra-runner is how unimpressive your small, daily achievements seem in comparison. My boyfriend, Shannon, ran 8 ultra-marathons (marathons longer than 26.2 miles) in 2012, bringing his race and training mileage to around 3500 miles in just one calendar year. 3500 miles- the distance from New York to Los Angeles, on foot.
We're so glad we get to eat this for the next four years! -Amy Ephron