Sometimes you just need a few days off. Summer hit, and with our schedules being what they were, we just never got around to booking any out-of-town trips for our week off. And then we realized: we live in an awesome city, have an awesome yard, and really just needed some time to relax. This is what we did.
Sunday July 14
We woke to rain. Hard rain. That kind of rain that beats down on world in fat, heavy drops. Day two of our holiday and I was awake and out of bed shortly after five AM. The pounding of rain and the pressing thought of a massively-epic, and bone-jarringly long run will do that to you.
The Thirty Two
I haven’t been writing about running much here lately, but needless to say the training continues. My efforts at leading the full marathon clinic at the local running store have been a blend of insanely time consuming, indescribably exhausting, and monumentally rewarding.
The training goes something like this: we isolate and we focus. By that I mean we do specific kinds of runs to train different kinds of things. Hill runs for strength. Tempo runs for extending the lactate threshold of our muscles. Speed work for adding to the twitch power of our muscles. And, of course, who can forget the Long Slow Distance runs –LSDs– meant to train the full body against the grueling time requirements of a full race.
Yesterday morning our distance on the LSDs peaked. The first peak of two, but a peak nonetheless.
Despite the rain… Despite the nervous anticipation by all… Despite the reluctant, daunting trail ahead… thirteen of us laced up. Eight of us made the full thirty-two kilometers back to the shed.
Thai Picnic, Sorta
Thai food might not have been the best recovery meal after such a massive run, but the narrow window of opportunity afforded to us by conflictingly busy schedules meant that less than an hour after stumbling back into the home base after our run, I was home, showered, and welcoming a couple former co-workers over for lunch.
Twenty years ago, that would have been that. A few people would have kept connected via phone calls or professional relationships. And I, in particular because I wasn’t even in the same industry anymore, would have been a kind of lost memory, that guy somebody used to work with.
But technology. The internet. Need I say more.
Tracy was in town for a meeting. Char coordinated a too-short hour and a half window of time. And what would have been more of a picnic of take-out from the nostalgic embrace of a once favourite work-time dining experience was slightly thwarted: rain still lurked in patches, and it turns out the restaurant wasn’t even open on Sundays.
So: Thai take-out and an improptu dining room table meal at our house as I fought of the mind-blurring haze of a post-four-hour run. But it was good to see some old friends again.
My wife is a musical theatre fiend.
For her recent birthday Karin requested a single thing: Tickets to the travelling Broadway production of Les Miserables.
I obliged, of course. It’s a show that — every time we go to another musical, and we go to quite a few — she always caveats by saying: “Someday I’ll take you to Les Miserables and then you’ll see.”
I’m paraphrasing, of course. The gist of that notion being Les Miserables has been lurking in my mind as this definitive production of musical theatre that would embrace and define all others around it.
And, yeah. It was good. Really good. (Our tickets were mediocre, but that’s another story.) And with no pressing obligations at home on a Sunday night, no babysitter waiting for our return, no work the next morning, we had a slow-paced evening and a much needed date-night out.
But boy… sitting perfectly still in a theatre seat for three hours after running thirty-two kilometers earlier that morning; Not great planning. Did I ever sleep well LAST night.