Rude Awakening #863


You cannot rehydrate from three days of poor hydration in four hours.


I've known this rule since way before I started distance running. However, that doesn't stop me from trying to do it every so often. I forget to drink well for a few days and then attempt to make it all up in a few short hours before I go off to take my run. This usually manifests itself in much the same way it did today--intense muscle cramps, dry mouth, premature fatigue, and general suckiness of the workout. Today was supposed to be an easy run--just a short, slow four miles. It turned in to the run from hell because apparently I'm totally incapable of taking care of myself. Awesome.

That said, it's also important to note that I feel most alive, most authentically myself when I am out for my runs. No boss to perform for, no roommate drama, no room for "what ifs" when you're slamming through eight miles and wondering if you can just shave ten seconds off this next mile. I'm so busy concentrating on how my muscles feel, the traffic crossing the street, the smiles on other runner's faces as we pass to worry about most of what passes for thought these days. There's no boss to perform for, no coworkers to soothe, no roommate drama, there's nothing except for my own breathing and the way my muscles feel at this moment on this run.

I'm not sure what it says that I feel most alive and most authentically myself four days a week. Apparently, I'm an inauthentic, revolting person the rest of the week. Do I really spend the rest of my time divorced from the kind of reality I live in while on a run? I don't know if this is actually the case, but it seems like the world I'm in most of the time is so full of fluorescent light, computers, ringing phones, phone calls, and television that I'm totally out of touch with my body and my surroundings. I'm not quite sure how to to shock myself out of my daily perceptions and into what I feel for the rest of the week.

Squishy

Tonight, I found myself standing in the back of A Fine Grind in St. Paul emitting noises I'm sure only dogs could hear and squeezing my best friend so hard I was afraid I might crack her ribs.


As previously mentioned, my two dearest friends and my soul mate all left for various abroad adventures between the beginning of August and the end of September last year. Naturally, this had made my post-college transition harder than I had anticipated.


Michelle's return to the U.S. signals another, most welcome change.


We spent a few hours tonight munching on chow mein and swallowing chai while catching up on our romantic (mis)adventures. I laughed, had my jaw nearly hit the floor, made a variety of sympathetic noises, and rolled my eyes more than I have in months. As all of our other close friends from WI become parts of couples, it's good to have this one relationship we don't have to plan around a spouse or a child. Both of these are, of course, welcome additions to a tightly knit circle, but it's good to have someone else who can't commit to a stylist, let alone a significant other. It's also good to have someone else's (albeit, "straight up broken") compass to help you guide your own life.


I had forgotten how much I missed this relationship. Having someone who understands your neuroses as well as she understands her own is the greatest blessing I could ever hope to have.









Well, darlin', Here's to nine years of friendship, PBDs, jaw-dropping revelations, NSync sing-a-longs, transatlantic late-night dials, mermaids, and inappropriate comments. I'm glad you're home.