WEATHER: Chilly — 55ish.
WHERE TO: Columbia Heights and Adams Morgan
Well, kids, Boston and the day after were two of the BIGGEST-READERSHIP DAYS EVER here on therunninglog. Thank you for validating my potentially disastrous decision to run my body into the ground. I have a friend — I will call him “Frenchy” — who has on several occasions stated his attitude towards marathoning as follows:
“…or I could just sit here and smack my head against a brick wall for 4 hours.”
Fair point, Frenchy. And after my run AND Crampy McPainypants ride THAT NIGHT back to DC in coach on Amtrak, I sort of felt the same way. But with one key difference: I felt like a SUPERHERO who had smacked her head against a brick wall. For 3 hours and 39 minutes.
Anyway, I now find myself neck-deep in finals (TEN MORE DAYS OF WORK, KIDS!) and in near-panic territory. The sleep-or-running dilemma, which I have heard is not a tough conundrum for many people to deal with, pesters me every morning at around 6 AM. And so it was this morning, but I powered through. But only barely, and I now am sucking down Ricolas and praying that the scratch in the back of my throat doesn’t morph into a giant phlegm demon. Blaaaaaargh.
You know, I could write something way more funny and exciting but I’m exhausted and I got shit to do, kids. We talk later.
Love and kisses,