When a Twitter friend sends you a direct message that they’ll be in town for a lace and leather event at a night club, you go, right? I did. I wore a lacy tu-tu skirt with leather knee high boots, but somehow still paid full cover charge to get in. Once I was in I quickly realized I was overdressed, in the “I’m wearing too much clothes” sense. The club was shoulder to shoulder in twenty-somethings strutting around in bondage-esque lingerie, girls and boys. So much eyeliner, and blatant ass just hanging out for viewing pleasure.
I was feeling a little prude, read sober, so I had a few drinks to loosen up. I loosened up, a boy who dressed like a vampire was trying to flirt with me, and I witnessed a mostly naked girl sit on a cake…twice. What I’m trying to illustrate here is that It was too reckless of a night to be had during marathon training, recovery week or not.
Sunday morning I hid under my blankets until noon before I even thought about running. The thought of running after reckless amounts of Jack Daniels made me want to toss my cookies. By two o’clock I got myself together and went out, not knowing what to expect from my body after the abuse I put it through.
In the first few miles I was feeling sluggish and thought a bit about this upcoming marathon in May. It’s not terribly far away, it’s not that close either. Is there time to get my groove back? Or is it going to be another 5 hour marathon with the way things have been going? Maybe once daylight returns I’ll really start doing tempo runs, hill repeats, fartleks, and all that jazz.
Maybe, instead of fretting about it, I’ll just appreciate this moment running in wonderful, cotton ball, non-accumulating snow. It was the kind of snow I remember waking up to on Christmas day when I was six years old. Just perfectly paced, light snow that made me feel like a butterfly when it stuck to my eyelashes. I ran past gleeful kids sledding down Olbrich hill, kids chasing each other on the Lake Monona ice, and past a snowman with a carrot nose.
It was such a beautiful run I became smitten with the city of Madison and the act of running all over again. Even a tad hungover, the run felt good, a feeling I haven’t had in a while. When I was finished with the run I was pleasantly surprised to see that I managed a 9:20 average for it. That’s my fastest paced long run in this training cycle. While I don’t think Jack Daniels was a good fuel source for this new found mojo, it does go to show me that recovery weeks are more important than I give them credit for. Otherwise, my only hypothesis is that flirty vampire boy put a spell on me.