There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.
I set out for the seemingly endless drive back home to Florida at around 8 am yesterday morning. I had great intentions of leaving around 7, but AJ and Tom came over the night before and
ruined my life kept me company for a few hours. AJ brought me the best Hanukkah gift in the history of all Hanukkah gifts.
In return, I gave him the greatest gift of all as well – I taught him how to light the menorah. I’m pretty sure his life has been changed forever. AJ, you’re welcome. Also, don’t forget to light the menorah while I’m gone. It’s for the Lord. (By the way, I’m not technically Jewish. It’s a long story.)
Anyway, somehow during the course of the evening, I got slightly drunk and still hadn’t packed anything for my 8 day trip back to the Sunshine State. I compulsively forget things even at the best of times, so my efforts weren’t exactly solid at midnight after drinking. All I know is that all my running clothes made it into my suitcase, and that’s what counts.
The good news is that I did not shoot anyone off the road with the bazooka attached to the top of my truck on the drive home. The bad news is that this is only because I do not actually have a bazooka attached to the top of my truck. No, I did not ask my parents for one for Christmas. When they vetoed my request for an iPad, I figured the bazooka would be a no-go. I’m sure you’re all experiencing this, but why are people such terrible drivers during the holidays? Is there some universal rule that I don’t know about that says “Hey everyone, you know what would be good? Let’s spend more time bonding with our family in the car. Let’s drive 10 miles per hour under the speed limit. It’s what Baby Jesus would want.” Look, I’m relatively familiar with Baby Jesus and that’s not what he would want. Jesus was very efficient. He absolved the WHOLE WORLD for its sins with one action (dying…not sure why I felt the need to say that, as if you don’t already know). I’m pretty sure He wants us to get where we are going in a timely fashion.
My threshold for driving is about 5 hours. After that, I start to get cranky. This is mostly because my back starts to really hurt after about an hour and by hour five, it’s unbearable. However, yesterday I got a really bad headache and I could barely see, so I did what any classy person would do in this situation. I found a parking lot and slept in my truck like a hobo.
APPARENTLY this is not a normal thing to do, because whenever I tell people about it (and it happens on pretty much every road trip where I drive by myself) they are horrified. But you know what? I have multiple hunting knives in my truck. I can defend myself. It’s fine. AJ told me I was very classy when I told him about my nap. Maybe not, but it’s classier to nap in your truck like a hobo than to kill an entire family of caroling children because you fell asleep behind the wheel. Speaking of children…
I realized the other day that I don’t really trust children. I know, that’s messed up. Summer told me children are the only people I should trust. But you know what? Children are unpredictable. A coworker brought his daughter to our little holiday gathering on Wednesday, and she’s like eighteen months old. She just stared at everyone. She would walk up to you and stare at you with her little child eyes. Here’s what I was thinking the whole party:
“I have no idea what she’s thinking. Is she about to poop? She can’t talk, she only makes animal sounds, so I can’t even ask. WHY IS SHE LOOKING AT ME?”
“AT ANY MOMENT she could have a complete meltdown and I’d never see it coming. LOUD NOISES. How do I get out of here?”
“Why am I letting a child monopolize my thoughts for an hour? Oh, because she’s scary.”
So let’s just say the maternal instinct isn’t exactly kicking in yet.
Anyway, I eventually made it home and decided to go for a run. I figured I would just go as
fast slow as my legs wanted to go for about five miles. I started out really slow. My Garmin was beeping angrily and telling me to stop sucking so much. But all of a sudden, my legs wanted to go fast. REALLY fast. I ran sub 8 miles for the rest of the run. WTF? I didn’t even know I had the capacity to run more than one mile at that pace. As Nick said, my body seems to be reacting to running in the exact opposite way that one would expect. The more stress I put my body under, the better it responds. I’m getting stronger, not breaking down. It’s kind of awesome, because now I can justify running all of these marathons as necessary to my health.
Finally I got a picture at the finish line with my intended pose! I am raising my arms in victory because in case you forgot, I finally broke 4:30!
And finally, the much anticipated pace group shot with our fearless leader, Eric (orange shirt). He told me I was going to PR and that I was going to hug him when I did. Both of those things happened.
Also, I creepily just facebook stalked the winners of the race. I don’t know why you need to know that. I just felt the need to share.