Would you believe, a running commentary on Fabulous Wine Tasting Weekend? I was going to let myself off the hook and train extra hard next week, but in fact I ran and I’m going to write about it.
I am at my sister’s house in Liverpool, NY, whence we will drive to the Finger Lakes for said wine. I packed running clothes, under the theory that it was better to have them and not need them than need them and not have them. As a matter of fact, I forgot to pack a second pair of running shorts, so running tomorrow morning may not happen, but I’ll leave that concern for the future.
I woke up at 12:30 this morning with a dreadful headache. Damn! I managed to go back to sleep, but I was quite wakeful around 5:30 and wondered if I might sweat out the headache with a run. I figured a run would be a good idea even if it did not help the headache, so while the rest of the household slept, I set out.
My sister lives in a development, all residential, no sidewalks but not much traffic. Like many of these places, the street arrangement seems to be inspired by a plate of spaghetti, all curves and no real idea what street leads where. I was not too worried, though, because I remembered what my other sister had observed: the street names are in alphabetical order.
The sun was up but not very high. The air felt cool and fresh. Maybe a little too cool. I soon pulled my headband over my ears. I could not do anything for my hands, though, except feel them get progressively colder and stiffer. No matter. I would not have to do anything requiring fine motor skills till after a hot shower.
I admired houses as I ran, observing that many of them looked remarkably similar in structure. That did not bode well for finding my way back if need be, so I began to look for more distinctive features, such as For Sale signs and solar lights. I kept turning left, on the idea that if I did that I would end up back where I started. Then I thought I might finish my run too soon, so I made a righthand turn (why is the computer underlining that? Isn’t righthand a word?).
And that was where things got a little complicated.
It doesn’t matter, I told myself. Alphabetical order, remember? I saw a street that began with Q. My sister’s street begins with G. This could be a problem. The next street began with P. Ah, at least I was headed in the right direction. This would be fine. My legs were not complaining too much, my breathing was OK. I did not feel as if I had reached the I Can Rock This stage, but I believe I was rocking it.
It is interesting to try to remember the alphabet backwards, since we are so used to saying it the other way. I was narrating in my head and realized I would not remember all the street names I was using. Then I realized that was OK, because it is perhaps not the best idea to use identifying characteristics, in case somebody wants to stalk my sister (she is the cute one) (we vie for the title of the wittiest) (but I digress). Perhaps in saying Liverpool and streets in alphabetical order I’ve said too much. It’s all a lie, stalkers! I have no sisters! Ha, the joke’s on you!
O, N, M… I had only meant to go for a short run, maybe 20 minutes. After all, must recruit my energies for the wine tour. Still, the Boilermaker isn’t getting any further away. Also, I had not yet worked up a sweat. That was no way to sweat out a headache. Then I was almost to G. G was next! Yes! NO!
It was the wrong G! Oh NO! Who knew this development had so many streets? There was no way I was backtracking. I figured I was close to A by now, and thus the end of this street. Surely from there I could find the proper street to run down and the proper alphabet to follow. At last I saw something a recognized: the back of the shopping center which one drives by before reaching the development. NOW I knew where I was. Sort of.
A little further down, I saw a building that looked familiar. Then the sign for a church I knew I had to turn by. Yes, yes! I still had streets A through F to get through, but I knew where I was. This was going to be quite a respectable run. My headache did not seem much better, but I felt I was definitely progressing towards being in shape for the Boilermaker.
After I finished the run, I stayed right on my sister’s street to walk my cool-down, for which I definitely missed Tabby. I felt triumphant. I would meet my weight-loss goals! I would be in shape for the Boilermaker! My sister thought it was awesome that I had gone running.
“And you didn’t get lost,” she said.
“Actually, I did,” I admitted. “I’m going to write my blog post about it.”
