I got all dressed in my workout gear this morning, realized that the beautiful weather was perfect for a beach day, got undressed, folded workout clothes on my desk chair for later, put on my bathing suit, and went to the beach. Many hours later I put my workout clothes back on and headed out for my eighteen mile training run. If you haven't heard, a hurricane is on its way and I'm not missing my weekly long run for anything short of a boozed up vacay with the guy I've been sweating. He's away, so running it is.
I tried out a new route today that took me west along 25A and then south on 107 to the SUNY Old Westbury Campus. It was pleasant and overall I enjoyed it. It was a little less than seven miles from my house to the entrance of SUNY Old Westbury, and then I did a nice run up the never-ending hills they call their driveway. By mile 9 I was questioning my ability to do an 18 mile run. By mile 10, I was feeling delirious, and that's when I saw it: the Concrete Jungle.
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| This Concrete Jungle was three times the size of ours. A drunk girl could get lost in there for weeks! |
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| This is what a person looks like after she's run 10 miles and knows she has to run 8 more. |
Never have I been so happy to see a maze of concrete stucco, bridges, stairs, and walkways. I was home! In college I had the (dis)pleasure of living in the Concrete Jungle not once, but twice. I have such fond memories of trying to figure out how to get from my dorm room to my friend's dorm room without breaking a heel in the piles of snow, or wondering what was the most efficient route between me and the nearest liquor store. I drove my Saab 92X Heidi (may she rest in peace) past the restricted access signs and illegally parked her next to any entrance I pleased. Of course living in the Jungle wasn't without conflict. There was the time my roommate made me cry right before sorority composite photos and they had to digitally touch up my puffy eyes, and the morning my RA couldn't understand why I needed to take a chair into the shower with me. Um, hello? Staying up all night drinking and then taking off for a road trip first thing in the AM is taxing. Sitting down was helping me to shave my legs without getting the spins. There was also that year when I had a Fatal Attraction-level obsession with my on-and-off boyfriend that ended with an intervention from my nearest and dearest drinking buddies telling me that I was cut off if I spoke to him again. My cat died soon after that, and that's when I lost my last bit of humanity. I haven't cared about a person or a thing as much as him (the cat, not the boyfriend) since. If I ever do, I will ask the guy to marry me immediately.
Fast-forward and I had reached mile 14. God bless the Concrete Jungle and all of its memories. Without it, I'd be sitting on the sidewalk waiting for my mom to come pick me up. By then I had run out of water (how do I go through 1.5 litres of water so quickly?!) and I was praying that the Gulf Station was right around the corner. ABBA came on, finally getting rid of the playlists I should have titled Depressed, Really Depressed, and Suicide Watch (I was an angsty little drunk, wasn't I?), followed by Daddy Yankee and then I was inside the air conditioned goodness of the gas station market. I bought a 32 ounce lemon-lime Gatorade and hit the road. My spirits picked up after I chugged down my delicious treat and I found the strength to truck it once the sun set and I was convinced that if a car didn't get me, a sexual sadist hiding in the bushes would. I watch Forensic Files and Criminal Minds. I know what's up.
Lessons for Next Time
- Figure out how to carry more water
- Make a playlist in advance
- Check the time of sunset
- Bring a reflective vest
Things that were Awesome
- Going back to college
- The hot runner I spotted running on the opposite side of 107. I definitely was interested in seeing what was underneath his running shorts. Ow ow.
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| This is what a person looks like after 18 miles. Effff. |
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