If your social calendar calls for a party the night before your long run, you should either (a) exhibit some form of self-control, or (b) consider staying home. If you were to guess that I went “off the board,” a la The Joker’s Wild, you would be absolutely correct.
When attending a party, you are generally at the mercy of whoever is providing the food, unless you have the forethought to bring along something that is sensible fuel for a distance runner. However, since the goal of a party is to actually have fun, I decided against that. As you might imagine, the grub at our little throw-down was all delicious, but not precisely what I should be putting in my body on a Friday night. Several handfuls of cashews, a couple dozen shrimp, an incredibly awesome sausage and pepper sandwich, and three (or was it four?) bottles of Victory Golden Monkey; for my money, the best beer on the planet. Oh, and birthday cake.
Saturday morning, I wasn’t able to set out until 10:00 or so, which left me plenty of time to “eliminate” the detritus of the previous night’s debauchery. Trust me – that was not something I wanted “knocking at my back door,” three or four miles from home. Hal Higdon told me I needed to log seven miles, so I took off with the appropriate route committed to memory, only to remember too late that the damned access road at Trenton Mercer Airport is still out of commission. So, I did a little bit of improvisation, in hopes that I would not leave myself short; ultimately, I left myself long, by just over a half mile. The weather was just about as nice as one could hope for in late August; a nice preview of the early autumn weather that will make my training life that little bit easier.
Checking my time when I finished, I was hopeful that I did eight miles or more, but alas. However, the energy level was good, and nothing hurt. I will put that one in the win column, and move on.
Thus concludes my last Saturday run of “easy,” single-digit mileage, until the final taper week in November. Shit gets serious, starting next week. Friday nights as I’ve known them all these years are over, until Thanksgiving. I am a little bit afraid of what my weekends will look like, now that the next ten weeks will feature anything from a half marathon to 20 miles. Will I be of any use to anyone when I’m not running? As supportive as my wife is of my ridiculous little hobby, I am expected to be a full participant in my family, which includes doing everything that would normally be expected of me, were I a sedentary slob (as opposed to the highly active slob I currently am). Not that I would want it any other way, but I’m just wondering how I will physically survive it.