Whilst in Chicago, I stayed in a very nice hotel near the lake and was 100% determined to get in a C25K run along Lake Shore Drive. I brung my shoes and workout gears, and I publicized my determination just to make it harder for me to back out.
Unfortunately only from the perspective of my goals, the folks and I managed to fit in drinks at Naha and dinner at Frontera Grill the night before. Now, Naha's specialty cocktails are something to behold and even more to bedrink, and to apologize for receiving my credit card with a hasty, "Thank you, sir," the bartender and his manager distributed a wealth of house-made truffles, and Frontera more than lived up to its billing, to the tune of two appetizer plates, some agua de jamaica, and a shared strawberry agave-shortcake plus hot chocolate. I got back to the hotel feeling calorically overendowed, and thus it was that I made a great mistake the next morning.
I ran without breakfast. Without coffee, even. And it was raining.
So boring story short, it sucked rat. I was puny. My legs felt even more like cement than usual, and I felt as though my engine was running on fumes. I kept moving for about 40 minutes, but very little of it was even at a jog. Fail. FAIL. I sogged back toward the hotel and resigned myself to sorrow.
As I squelched toward the lobby, the doorman at the hotel ("Tony," said his badge, though I'd usually call someone of his age Mister LastName rather than by his first name) hailed me: "Miss. Miss! Someone left something for you!"
The folks being at another hotel and La Mère a fearsomely early riser, it was possible. I altered course.
"Can I get your name, just to make sure?"
I told him.
"Yup," he said, nodding. "Doorman named Tony said this was for you." And he reached into the valet stand to pull out a bottle of water.
I burst out laughing, taken off guard and charmed out of my shoes. "Bless your heart!" (I get Southern when I'm surprised.) "Do I look that bad?"
"Nope. Look good. But like you need this."
I went upstairs grinning my face off. That's probably not the classic runner's high, but I'll take it.
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2 comments:
Well I am impressed that you got up and went out there as planned. I was once told by a very experienced runner that these 'bad days' of iron legs and no energy are markers of progress; you have reached a certain level of fitness and you as it were bump into the next level. The body fakes a little "Noooo!" and then says OK, in a few days.
I love the way the doorman thought up that little stage play!
Tragicalmente, I have been a big ole slacker ever since. I need to get back on track, just not on a day when I've had three hours of sleep and a 5 AM alarm to go be professionally bright-eyed and otherwise coordinated.
In other words, is time for sleep.
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