This past weekend, Zdenek and I visited Washington, D.C. It was my first time to the nation's capital and, while I was excited to finally make it there, the more important reason for the visit was to catch up with our friends, Matt and Jena. When you live far away from everyone as Zdenek and I do, it takes some time and energy to visit friends and family in far off places. But, as in all relationships, you get what you give, and maintaining good friendships demands a certain investment.
Maintaining a good relationship with my body also requires an investment of time and care. The quality of my bike rides and runs are directly proportional to the hours of sleep I got the night prior and the amount of high energy carbs consumed beforehand. On the other hand, their quality is inversely proportional to the number of alcoholic beverages imbibed in the last 48 hours. This past weekend, there was little sleep and no running; I wore my Asics only to walk through Arlington National Cemetery and up the Mall. Moreover, I replaced every ounce of perspiration with an equal quantity of local brews.
When I headed out for a run this morning, I wasn't expecting much from my body. Indeed, I had pretty much ignored its needs all weekend long, and I'd only run it for a total of five lactating miles last week. The weather at 6:30 am was unbearably hot and sticky, and I had given it only six hours of sleep to go on. I started cautiously, not sure whether or not my body would actually tolerate the abuse and neglect it had suffered recently, or whether it would engage in some sort of protest by giving me lead legs or simply stopping altogether. But after five miles, it had still not staged any revolt, and so I tested it further by picking up the pace slightly. About 6.5 miles in, I became confident that my body was in it for the long haul, so I quickend my step a little more and opted to take it on one more lap of the bottom loop of the Park. My body obliged.
To be sure, the entire 9.5 miles "we" ended up running still averaged a pretty slow pace, but it was a heroic effort for my body under the circumstances. If my body were a friend this morning, I would have given it a big, long hug. I would have thanked it for giving so selflessly on what I know was a morning on which it would have preferred to stay in bed. I would have told it how much I appreciate its loyalty in spite of my bad behaviour. My body was a real trouper today. But I would probably not have told it that I will never treat it that way ever again; after all, a good friend doesn't lie.
Maintaining a good relationship with my body also requires an investment of time and care. The quality of my bike rides and runs are directly proportional to the hours of sleep I got the night prior and the amount of high energy carbs consumed beforehand. On the other hand, their quality is inversely proportional to the number of alcoholic beverages imbibed in the last 48 hours. This past weekend, there was little sleep and no running; I wore my Asics only to walk through Arlington National Cemetery and up the Mall. Moreover, I replaced every ounce of perspiration with an equal quantity of local brews.
When I headed out for a run this morning, I wasn't expecting much from my body. Indeed, I had pretty much ignored its needs all weekend long, and I'd only run it for a total of five lactating miles last week. The weather at 6:30 am was unbearably hot and sticky, and I had given it only six hours of sleep to go on. I started cautiously, not sure whether or not my body would actually tolerate the abuse and neglect it had suffered recently, or whether it would engage in some sort of protest by giving me lead legs or simply stopping altogether. But after five miles, it had still not staged any revolt, and so I tested it further by picking up the pace slightly. About 6.5 miles in, I became confident that my body was in it for the long haul, so I quickend my step a little more and opted to take it on one more lap of the bottom loop of the Park. My body obliged.
To be sure, the entire 9.5 miles "we" ended up running still averaged a pretty slow pace, but it was a heroic effort for my body under the circumstances. If my body were a friend this morning, I would have given it a big, long hug. I would have thanked it for giving so selflessly on what I know was a morning on which it would have preferred to stay in bed. I would have told it how much I appreciate its loyalty in spite of my bad behaviour. My body was a real trouper today. But I would probably not have told it that I will never treat it that way ever again; after all, a good friend doesn't lie.
We're here! It's hot!
Lincoln was one important guy! And my ice cream was delicious!
A cocktail break on the rooftop lounge of the W Hotel allowed me to scope out the White House. No President in sight.
A suit I will never own
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