I don't even know where to start. First off, I wasn't exactly planning to post something today, but then again I wasn't exactly planning to spend the better part of my early evening sitting in a police station. It's a long story, and no, the jail cells do not come eqiuped with hi speed Wi-Fi Internet access these days. I just happen to know people.
Well, let's start with why I have been noticeably absent. MM and I moved! Yay! We have a fantastic new apartment that has seen more foot traffic in the last week than my previous apartment saw in two years. This one is, let's say, much more conducive to entertaining, even when it is half filled with boxes (because there's a whole other half of the apartment where you can sit and visit and whatnot). So far, so good. I mean, sure MM moved in with me in June, but that's when he was invading my space. He was living in my apartment. Now we're living in our apartment.
I was thinking, as one will tend to do, about whether or not leaving the old place -- my place -- would be sad or depressing, if I would feel a sense of loss or have some kind of moment when I said "good-bye" to my former life in that place and began a new life in this place or something similarly melodramatic. I did not. The truth is, while the move to my apartment was a bit of a turning point for my life here in Chicago, I moved there under shitty circumstances. The apartment itself means little. The people who I met, the neighborhood where I put down some roots, the Chicago that became mine, happened around it, but all that's still there, and we're still there. Or close enough.
So it's good. MM's and my first home together. Say it with me now, "Ahhhhhhh." Puke.
Anyway, that's a good part of the reason I've been MIA. I gots no T.V. and I gots no Internet. I had to listen to Obama's speech at the DNC old school style: via the radio. It was all very nineteen hundred and something.. one of those years when the TV didn't exist.
I know what you're thinking, "but Lou, you had all kinds of time to share with us the trials and tribulations of your marathon training whilst at work this week." I just love the way my readership uses the word, "whilst." It's all very nineteen hundreed and something. No so. I was only "at work" for two days during which time I was trying desperately not to fall asleep. It was not conducive to stuff happening.
So, there's your explanation. Much longer and more involved than "I'm lazy."
On to the next topic: Training! Woo Hoo! Last week, not a whole lot of that happened. No running Monday through Thursday, though I did manage to make it to yoga on Thursday night. On Friday, MM and I got home from our respective work places at approximately the same time and promptly fell asleep for two-and-a-half hours. We probably would have slept the entire night too if it weren't for the neighborhood block bbq thingy that our landpeople kind of strong-armed us into attending. It was fine. We stayed until about 8pm, which would have been fine too, if MM wasn't dead set on running. I mean, I could have just let him go, but then I would have felt uber-lazy and even though *I* had to run 12 miles in the morning, I figured 30 minutes would loosen up my legs. Or something. Off we went. By the time we made it back home it was after 9pm, and I had not eaten dinner. So we got take out, and finally drifted off to sleep at some time that was way too late.
The alarm went off at 4:30am.
Here's the thing. I knew it before I stepped onto the lakefront path. In my heart, I knew that I was not going to be able to run 12 miles. And, despite that knowing, I ran six miles to the turnaround (though I KNEW I should turn around at 5) with the 11:30 pace group. I made it two-ish miles beyond the turnaround, and never made it back to home base. Instead, I walked off the path and had trusty running bud Meg pick me up on the street. True story.
Like I said, I knew it. Going in to this run, I knew I was tired. I knew I had been eating crap for... my entire life... I knew that my feet hurt. I knew that I was never going to make it. Perhaps I threw it away before I even got there, but whatever. I didn't need to run 12 miles to feel confident this week. I needed that at 15; I needed that at 16. This week, I needed a break. A throwaway. And 8 miles is significant enough for a cutback week.
So there. Sometimes you have to go with the running gods.