Last week, I ran 36 miles in five days, a record for me. We had weekend travel plans so I tried to (stupidly, probably) cram in a bunch of mileage (10.5, 7, 10) at the beginning of the week because a) I know better than to schedule a long run in unfamiliar surroundings and b) with a grandma to babysit, I was pretty sure I’d be catching up on six months of not boozing(ish).
I did manage to run six miles in the snow Friday evening. The streets and sidewalks were patchy with ice, so I opted for a snow-covered gravel path. It beat the shit out of my knees and ankles and it was a lot colder than I expected so I was uncomfortable pretty much the whole time.
Saturday I ran three easy road miles before going to a concert at the Paramount in Aurora. All I previously knew about Aurora, Illinois I learned from Wayne’s World.
But the Paramount is fantastic. It’s one of those really ornate, old timey theaters with great sound and plush seats (not that we sat, ever). We saw a local Chicago band called Poi Dog Pondering. They’ve been around for about 30 years but never really hit the big time, whether by choice or by virtue of the music industry being clogged with such revolting acts as Nicki Minaj, LMFAO and The Jonas Brothers, I don’t know.
I managed to capture this one amazing photo:
We pre-gamed at a Irish pub called Ballydoyle that had a great beer list, a nice guy playing guitar and singing all those songs you know all the words to, and enough sweet potato fries to soak up at least the first two shots of Jameson.
I took Sunday off.
Good times, but weekend getaways are a whole different ballgame with a baby. On the one hand, you have a grandma to babysit so you can go out and have shenanigans all night with your friends, but on the other hand, you still have to get up with the baby at 6 a.m. after having shenanigans all night with your friends. You also have to pack a lot more shit.
But I’m not complaining. Neither my husband nor I have any family in town, so our nights out are pretty few and far between. This was our first night out (other than a couple of quick dinner dates) since the Roger Waters show back in June. (Sidenote: I really hate people who have parents to come over to babysit whenever they want and still complain about not having any time to themselves. I also hate people who can get on a plane and fly across the country whenever they want and still complain about never seeing their family.)
Anyway, for shits and giggles, I am doing a run streak type thing this week. But instead just doing a cursory mile or so because HEY, A MILE COUNTS, I’m going to try to do something a little more meaningful. The plan is to run 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 and 12 for a total of 42 miles. That’s about four more miles than I’ve ever done in one week, so it’s attainable but would still be a notable achievement for me. And I’m not above splitting them into double runs, but I think either the 10 or the 12 should be a proper long run.
So yesterday morning I ran a mile and lifted weights at the gym, and then in the afternoon I did another perfunctory mile in my neighborhood. Amazing, I know. But please hold your applause until the end of the streak.