This is me, doing nothing
So let's be clear. I did nothing on Friday night. This was followed up by me doing nothing on Saturday night, so I could get up at 7am and run 16k with people I don't know. And now I'm doing nothing again. I am not sure I can remember the last weekend that I didn't have plans on Friday and Saturday night. It's FREAKING ME OUT.
Anyways. Went to the running clinic this morning and did my time. It was nice, I actually met a girl who runs half marathons in roughly the same time as me, and she is training for her first marathon. After the run our clinic instructor asked if I was coming for coffee, but I said I had to meet someone. He said that I should make time for coffee next time. I thought that was nice. The people I have met at the clinic have all been very friendly, encouraging and positive: pretty much what I was expecting. I did join for social reasons, so I think my new routine on Sunday morning will be to drag my sorry ass out of bed, grind through a run, and then get to know some of my fellow runners afterwards as I stuff my face with caffeine and baked goods. The sad news? I haven't seen Hubert, my French Canadian lovah for a while now, so I'm guessing he dropped out. Bastard. Obviously his commitment to meeting people - running, I mean, commitment to running - isn't as strong as mine.
I was supposed to meet Michael afterwards to do a little furniture shopping in the South Granville area. I had picked out this totally awesome arborite table at a consignment store and was really jazzed to go buy it. Then a fun series of events happened. I get this bizarro call from Michael who sounds unwell and keeps telling me how he "bonked" on his run today. I'm like "what? What does that mean?". I'm thinking shit, he twisted his ankle again. He's a little bit incoherent and I'm growing concerned. Then the call drops. I'm totally perplexed. He calls back and I say "what, you don't want to talk to me now?" and then he goes, "I'm gonna throw up" and hangs up again. So now I'm all kinds of agitated. What the hell is wrong with him? I get him back on the line and he's got food poisoning and appears to have overdone it on his run today. He's got cramping in his legs and was saying he was having cold sweats, just a big bowl of wrong. I told him to take it easy. I was going to go buy this table and then I would come to North Van to see him.
The table was SOLD. Someone bought it last night. Bastards. The guy working there was like, "Yeah, that was a sweet piece". Uh, yeah, that's why I wanted TO BUY IT. Thanks for rubbing it in. Dejected, I wandered down to Urban Barn and bought some new dishes. If you want to see them, you should come over and cook me dinner!
Called Michael to see how he was doing. Not so good. I picked up some bananas and Gatorade and paid him a visit. We sat on his deck (he has a nice deck overlooking the water and downtown Vancouver). We napped. Uh, judge not less you too got up at an ungodly hour and ran for over an hour and a half. Napping ROCKS. Then we watched Citizen Kane. Then Michael wanted to nap some more. Poor Michael. I told him to have a bath, imbibe more electrolytes and take it easy. He didn't look too well.
And now I am here. Blogging. Sweet. I am so friggin' tired. This running shit is a bit ridiculous. I don't know what to do now. I should go poke something with a stick... maybe a bunny.
Anyways. Went to the running clinic this morning and did my time. It was nice, I actually met a girl who runs half marathons in roughly the same time as me, and she is training for her first marathon. After the run our clinic instructor asked if I was coming for coffee, but I said I had to meet someone. He said that I should make time for coffee next time. I thought that was nice. The people I have met at the clinic have all been very friendly, encouraging and positive: pretty much what I was expecting. I did join for social reasons, so I think my new routine on Sunday morning will be to drag my sorry ass out of bed, grind through a run, and then get to know some of my fellow runners afterwards as I stuff my face with caffeine and baked goods. The sad news? I haven't seen Hubert, my French Canadian lovah for a while now, so I'm guessing he dropped out. Bastard. Obviously his commitment to meeting people - running, I mean, commitment to running - isn't as strong as mine.
I was supposed to meet Michael afterwards to do a little furniture shopping in the South Granville area. I had picked out this totally awesome arborite table at a consignment store and was really jazzed to go buy it. Then a fun series of events happened. I get this bizarro call from Michael who sounds unwell and keeps telling me how he "bonked" on his run today. I'm like "what? What does that mean?". I'm thinking shit, he twisted his ankle again. He's a little bit incoherent and I'm growing concerned. Then the call drops. I'm totally perplexed. He calls back and I say "what, you don't want to talk to me now?" and then he goes, "I'm gonna throw up" and hangs up again. So now I'm all kinds of agitated. What the hell is wrong with him? I get him back on the line and he's got food poisoning and appears to have overdone it on his run today. He's got cramping in his legs and was saying he was having cold sweats, just a big bowl of wrong. I told him to take it easy. I was going to go buy this table and then I would come to North Van to see him.
The table was SOLD. Someone bought it last night. Bastards. The guy working there was like, "Yeah, that was a sweet piece". Uh, yeah, that's why I wanted TO BUY IT. Thanks for rubbing it in. Dejected, I wandered down to Urban Barn and bought some new dishes. If you want to see them, you should come over and cook me dinner!
Called Michael to see how he was doing. Not so good. I picked up some bananas and Gatorade and paid him a visit. We sat on his deck (he has a nice deck overlooking the water and downtown Vancouver). We napped. Uh, judge not less you too got up at an ungodly hour and ran for over an hour and a half. Napping ROCKS. Then we watched Citizen Kane. Then Michael wanted to nap some more. Poor Michael. I told him to have a bath, imbibe more electrolytes and take it easy. He didn't look too well.
And now I am here. Blogging. Sweet. I am so friggin' tired. This running shit is a bit ridiculous. I don't know what to do now. I should go poke something with a stick... maybe a bunny.
posted by Duder at 9:10 PM
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