Epically Sporadic.

This is how my life is becoming lately.  If not epically sporadic, then at least epically spontaneous.  Either way, though, I’m not complaining.  Aside from spending over 20 hours in the car this past weekend to go up North and visit AlexMac (which was totally worth it, might I add), I had one other interesting experience that deserves mention.

Since my decision to attempt the Philadelphia Marathon this coming fall, I have been running my butt off.  I have been loving every minute of it, even with the fact that my ankle hurts to the point that I often angrily mumble profanities under my breath as I run (Hooray for tarsal coalition!).  Since I had not done my weekly long run yet, and since I enjoy running in non-urban areas, and since I was going home anyway, I decided that I would run the Diamonds Course while I visited my parents.

Or, rather, before I visited them.  ‘Cuz I couldn’t visit them while running.  Our house doesn’t move.  But I digress…

Anyway, as I began the 9 mile run, I caught the temperature reading on one of the bank’s displays, which reported that it was a healthy 83°F.  This clearly had to be wrong, though, because it definitely didn’t feel that warm.  I decided that it was wrong and began my run.

Anyone familiar with the Diamonds course knows that the first 4 miles are the most difficult, 3 of them being very steep uphill climbs.  It was at about mile 2 that I decided it really was as hot as the thermometer indicated and stopped to get my head wet in a creek that runs along the course.  By the time I reached the top, I was sweating like I had just gotten out of a sauna.  Realizing that the rest of the course was more exposed to the sun than this first half, I decided to make a pit stop at my aunt and uncle’s house which lies at the half way point of the 9 miles.

I managed to first scare the hell out of, and then utterly confuse, my uncle who was out back working.  We started chatting and I got a big glass of iced tea to cool myself down.  He offered me beer instead, but having to run the rest of the 9 miles, I refused.  Initially.

My uncle is a very persistent man and clearly wouldn’t rest until I had a beer with him.  I eventually gave in and, since it was some kind of light beer, I figured it would be no big deal.  I drank it rather fast, stayed and bullshitted for another 10 minutes and then was on my way.

The first 1.5 miles of the return trip-I decided to run back the way I came, all down hill-was not particularly bad.  I was expecting to get cramps from having drank so much liquid in such a short time, but I was surprisingly having no pain at all.  A little bit after the 2 mile mark, however, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  No, I did not throw up.  In fact, it wasn’t my stomach that hit me at all.  It was the alcohol.

I was drunk.  From one beer.  WTF?

When I say ‘drunk,’ I don’t mean buzzed or feeling good or giddy, I mean I was drunk to the point that I had to stop running because I was freaking stumbling down the street.  It was ridiculous.  In retrospect, it was probably 50% alcohol and 50% dehydration, but still.  Me?  Drunk off of one beer?  What is the world coming to?

After walking for about 10 minutes, though, everything calmed down and I was fine to run the rest of the way back to my car where I proceeded to hang out and make sure I was ok to drive home without passing out.  I told my parents about this and was promptly laughed at.  All in all, I learned an important lesson though:  If you are going to drink beer while running, be sure that you are running on grass.

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~ by sisypheanfeat on 27 May, 2009.

One Response to “Epically Sporadic.”

  1. Hahah.
    Silly zachy

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