I hate going to bed on Saturday night.
Sleeping Saturday night means waking Sunday morning. And that means free time for mountain adventures is nearing an end. Weekend>M-Fri anytime.
Look, I like my job. But I like long runs in the mountains and hanging out with my dog and my wife quite a bit, too. And so I’m prolonging the Saturday magic and avoiding necessary sleep like a middle schooler. And on this fine night I find myself watching Olympic ice dancing and drinking a singular watermelon IPA. I’m 35 and I am the master of my domain.
Ice dancing. Yes. Why is this not ice skating? Haven’t figured that out yet. But I do know half the NBC commentators are dressed like it’s the Hunger Games, and apparently a swizzle is a skill that’s difficult to master in high leverage situations.
So here I am. Dialed right in to ice dancing. And all the swizzles. And twizzles.
Likely I am procrastinating necessary sleep because I have a 50k run in the morning. In American speak, that’s a 31 miler. And it”s not the distance, the time, or how I feel or anything like that. It’s that it actually snowed in Colorado today, so tomorrow I’ll be awkwardly bopping around for 5-6 hours on trails dressed with a clumpy stew of ice and slush. We have been spoiled here in the middle Rockies with 40-50 degree days and a ton of sun. So really this is just nature’s version of a market correction. Gotta get that long run in, irregardless.
And if there’s anything that’s going to get me up in the morning, it’s that a decent long run and a blog about said long run gets me one step closer to lifestyle brand repping it for Pit Viper sunglasses, 7-Eleven, and Mattress Firm. For those not in the know, these are a few of my hopeful running sponsors of choice in 2018. What can i say, I’m pragmatic.
Speaking of pragmatic, I’ve rambled on with too much of this nonsense for an evening. I’m going to stay up all night if curling is next on the Olympics. Time to drink a large glass of lemonade, mitigate my risk of passing another kidney stone, and embrace the coming Sunday Scaries like a man. A man who now knows what swizzles are in ice dancing.
This is a running blog. I swear.