Wet and wild

Judging by the number of cocktails I've consumed and hours of sleep I've lost over the past 72 hours, the holiday season is clearly in full swing. Unfortunately, this tired old body is simply not cut-out for hard partying anymore. (Then again, I'm not sure that it ever was: I am famous amongst my friends for always being the first girl to bail when the clock strikes midnight, and have even been known to ask my mom to pick me up and drive me home (she doesn't mind -- really!)). With every passing year, it seems that each additional drink consumed demands an additional hour of recovery the next day. Saturday morning I felt pretty crummy. Sunday morning I awoke in a daze. By yesterday evening, I could barely carry on a conversation past 7 pm. Today is Monday, and I think I am in need of a weekend to recover from the weekend.

Saturday was a miserable day in New York City for a multitude of reasons: unrelenting rains, strong winds, and freezing temperatures from sunrise to sunset. Why, then, Zdenek and I decided in our exhausted state to run over 15 miles in such conditions is still a bit of a mystery. After a long Friday night out on the town, we got a very late start on Saturday and, at first, considered skipping the run altogether. As I washed down my Advil with a cup of coffee, the temperature outside dropped and the rain began to fall. Nevertheless, we filled up our water bottles, tucked Power Gels into our pockets, and set off, thinking we'd go slowly and quit when it didn't make sense anymore (if it ever did make sense in the first place, that is).

This run was a struggle, to say the least. I don't think we had finished our first loop before the rain started coming down in sheets and most of our fellow devotees cleared the Park. Soon it was just Zdenek and me versus the hypothermia-inducing elements. My clothes were sopping and cold, my leg muscles tight and stiff. At times we barely moved against the wind. I could only think of the hot shower and steaming cup of coffee that awaited me at home. But as we neared the 12 mile mark in almost total isolation, I casually suggested to Zdenek that we continue on and aim for 15-16 miles total. He didn't flinch.

Maybe we were trying to show that we were tough. Maybe we were hoping that any leftover alcohol molecules circulating in our blood would be sweat out and washed away. Maybe we had no good reason at all. Whatever our motivation, I was somewhat unsurprised to learn that it is shared by my friend and fellow runner, Caitlin. Like me, Caitlin adores early bedtimes and long workouts, and the two of us often leave parties early to split a cab back to our respective Upper West Side abodes. This morning, when I (with some pride) relayed to Caitlin my epic 15.5 mile journey through a winter rainstorm, she responded (with equal pride), "I ran that day, too!" Go figure.

My Saturday morning run (which we completed in an 8:30 min/mile pace and which gave me a bad case of red, itchy, freezer-burned skin) was definitely a party of sorts. Caitlin, Zdenek, and I may be losing steam when it comes to pulling all-nighters, but perhaps our definition of a "good time" is just a bit different from that of our peers. It appears that we can still find energy when it matters.