First World Problems

I have quite literally been out every night for the past 734 nights. I counted. Between work holiday parties, work non-holiday parties, friend dinners, non-friend dinners, friend non-dinners, and non-friend non-dinners (that's code for "drinking alone with strangers"), I feel like I've been burning the candle at both ends and smack down the middle. With Boston training on the horizon (day 1 is next Monday. I'm sorry, what?), I've been anxious to log my base training miles while adhering strictly to my holiday policy of overindulgence. How ever will I find the time to run for leisure while balancing the ongoing need to taste every single food or drink put in front of my face? If you cut me, do I not bleed pinot noir?

After (yet another) evening event on Monday, I snoozed like it was my job this morning and hoped to abstain from alcohol at tonight's dinner to squeeze in a run afterward. And then I ate 437 holiday cookies (who says "no" to a frosted snowman? Those eyes made out of coal - they see into your soul!). Fearing I was starting to resemble the body type of a snowman, and with the blessing of my boss (who had mentally checked out for his Christmas vacation around December 5th), I snuck off to the gym for a mid afternoon run.

I've never quite understood the premise of mid-day workouts during the workweek (also known as lunchruns). As a woman, with hair that requires blowdrying and a face that requires make up, the prospect of showering after a workout and getting prepped to get back to the civilized working world is a daunting one. Combine that with the time it takes to get to the gym and we're looking at, oh I don't know, 4 and a half minutes left to spend on the treadmill. But with a flexible boss and a meeting-free afternoon, I decided to get in as much of a quality workout as allowable, given the fact that I was expected to at least be back at my desk at some point in the afternoon. I hopped on the 'mill and settled on 35 minutes of running.

Another fun fact about me: I hate being rushed. Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of days when I'd like to stop running after 4 and a half minutes. But the idea that I was limited to 35 today naturally made me want to run forever. So I settled on somewhat of a middle ground: 35 minutes at tempo pace.

The gym was practically empty when I arrived around 2:30pm, save for the Chelsea boys who I'm sure spend more hours lifting, preening, and checking themselves out in the mirrors than I do thinking up "that's what he said jokes," (which is to say, a lot). I hopped right on a treadmill and started out at a comfortable pace, gradually increasing the speed each mile. I finished 4.5 miles in 36 minutes, and still had time to shower and blow dry before heading back to the office. My apologies to my girlfriends, who saw me at dinner tonight rocking some type of retro mullet-y Suri Cruise 'do. Gym shampoo isn't the most volumizing... But overall, I'd say this was a success. No crowds, a reason to get some speedwork in, a convenient excuse to stare at well-groomed and well-muscled men (they practically get offended if you don't look!)? Yep, I'm a new fan of the lunchrun. And of anything that allows me to be out of the office for ninety minutes during a painfully slow time of year.

One last item worth mentioning: when I got home tonight, I had a Christmas card waiting for me from my dear friend Megan, who lives on the left coast and selflessly flew down from San Fran to LA when I ran the Surf City Marathon earlier this year. The note inside said "Here's to a 2011 full of love, laughter, and a San Francisco Marathon!" Looks like I've got some fun plans in Cali coming up on July 31st...