लिखा निष्क्रियता

The entire premise of learning from history is that we should not repeat the same mistakes.  This is an area in which I’m horribly ill-equipped, and today I repeated a remarkably stupid mistake.

After procrastinating and finding every other possible chore to do beforehand, I delayed my 8am 12-mile run until 1:45pm.  The process generally goes in a cycle of eating something, making sure it’s digested, procrastinating, getting hungry again, then eating again, and then waiting.  It keeps going in this cycle, so after my noontime bagel, I decided that I was going for it, and a mere hour and a half later, I was off on my run. 

First, the good.  As I ran today I felt good.  I quickly fell into a pace and trotted along the lake not breaking any speed records, but enjoying the feeing of being in complete control.  My stride was strong and consistent, and with the exception of a tender hamstring from a few days ago, I was feeling pretty good.  The plan was to run half of the Green Lake inner loop, then veer off into Woodland Park for some trail running, make my way over to the Woodland Park Zoo, do a few loops, and then run back to Green Lake for another outer loop.  There would be a few additional twists and turns, but after mapping it out, I found that I’d be able to get my 12 miles with little difficulty.  Planning difficulty, that is.

As I ran off the trail around Green Lake I was immediately struck by something I had not considered.  Unlike maps, the real world is not flat.  Also, the real world comes in more than 4 colors.  This being the case, I was immediately confused and did my best to reconstruct the map in my head as I unceremoniously tripped over a root and fell on my face.  With that out of the way, I picked myself up and continued in the direction of Woodland Park.  Daunted by the task of running and estimating scale, I decided that the best course of action was to simply run until something looked familiar, a tactic that I’ve used more than once in my life, each time with disastrous results.  Surely this would be different.

Surprisingly things began to materialize that held a degree of familiarity.  After running through a main vein of park trails, I traversed a pedestrian walkway over Aurora Ave.  On the other side was Woodland Park Zoo.  With locked gates.

One of the fun aspects of GoogleEarth is that it doesn’t really distinguish where one legally can and cannot go.  It seems like a lot to expect from a free program, but at the same time, it would lead a runner through a minefield, which seems to be just fine according to the engineers.  I decide that when I get home, I’m going to map a run though the pentagon, Area 51, and any other area that I’ll never be able to go, just for the sake of getting angry at the google engineers. 

Opting to run around the perimeter of the forbidden park, I actually gain far more mileage than I had expected, though I can’t really tell because I’m lost, off course, and getting thirsty.  Anyone who runs will tell you that if you’re thirsty, it’s already too late.  Additionally, they’ll tell you that you have to pay to get into the zoo and that you can’t just waltz in, not matter how good you look in running shorts. 

After running back into the Green Lake Loop, trot back to my starting point, feeling pretty good.  I stop for water again, stretch out, and continue on.  The larger route is nicer because it’s more rugged, and there are fewer people on it.  This is important today, since everyone who can walk (and a few who can’t) is out enjoying the sun.  For me, it’s a battle between just being nice, and holding people accountable for their own stupidity.  I am thrilled that this is such a happy-family place, but am markedly less thrilled when families of 5 decide that it’s a good idea to walk abreast with their leashed dogs sweeping back and forth for runners missed.  More than once I consider education in the form of a swift kick to canine or child, depending on which can more easily be labeled an accident. 

Sometime around the other side of the lake, the gas starts to run out.  I do two large loops around Woodland Park, and by the time I’m running the second half home, I’m not doing so well.  There’s a point in running where you hit a wall, and there’s a point in running where you cease to be a runner, and that’s where I am.  My muscles, while tired, are not inoperable—they are just out of fuel, which is not surprising since I’ve now been running for more than two hours.  My steps become sluggish, and as I close on the main street, I notice that I’m swaying a bit, which is not uncommon for me, but shouldn’t be happening on this short of a run.

Things start to come together at home after I’ve stretched, taken a cool-down walk, and have drunk a nalgene of water.  I feel terrible, but the wrong kind of terrible.  Feeling lousy after running is nothing new—but after I’ve drunk another Nalgene, I realize that I’m in more trouble than I thought.  Sitting on the couch, I start swallowing a lot.  In panic.  And then I realize; I’m going to throw up.  Another realization hits me as I draw on that precious running experience: I’m dangerously dehydrated.

This has happened once before with similarly unenjoyable results.  My body is now dehydrated beyond thirst, and it won’t accept water.  The last time this happened, I was on a 20-mile run in June.  A 12 mile run in March shouldn’t have the same effect, especially since this one was through a drinking fountain populated park.  But here I am.  The prescription is worse than a hangover, and lying on the couch doing my best not to vomit up the water already in me, I set my watch for two minutes, fill the Nalgene, and take a gulp every time the watch goes off.  If you’ve never tried simultaneously taking something in while note letting something else out, I suggest you try it.  It will give a whole new appreciation for how Hendrix died.

Two hours and four Nalgenes later I’m finally able to pee, and standing in the bathroom I feel the raking pain of a migraine that will be with me for the rest of the night.  Another hour later I’m able to eat something, and an hour after that I’ve completed eating every thing that I can get my hands on.  Seven eggs, a bagel, some pasta, three cookies, a bowl of Lucky Charms, and a bratwurst soundly replace the calories I have burned and then some.  Too wired to sleep to in too much pain to go out to the Little Red Hen with everyone, I stay in and watch “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” with no guilt since my brain can be used for little more than a pain reservoir right now.  Periodically limping downstairs to switch out laundry loads, I finish off the evening with the most wonderful thing imaginable: a sleep in a real bed.  After over a month and a half in a sleeping bag, I finally assemble the sheets and sleep like a squatter rather than a homeless person.  It’s a good feeling to move up in the world.