Well Done, Readers!


MILES: 6

WEATHER: Chilly — 55ish.

WHERE TO: Columbia Heights and Adams Morgan

MOOD: Exhausted.

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

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,

DJ

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