I warn you in advance that I’m running on a scant three hours of sleep here.
And yet my body instructed me to wake up at 7:00 anyway.
Thanks a lot, internal clock.
Anyway, last night I headed to the Bastille Day 8k, untrained and sad, because JD got caught in traffic and couldn’t make it.
The run started off a little slow, but I gradually picked up momentum.
I was in my zone.
There was Gaga.
Then, right before mile 4, ridiculous side cramps set in.
The kind that you try to run off for a couple of minutes before realizing you’re hobbling, and maybe it’s time for Plan B.
Which is really Plan Walk-It-Off.
Unfortunately, this messed up my pass, and I finished the race with a longer time than I would have liked to clock.
Then I reminded myself that in my current state of laissez-faire training, I should be glad I even made it across the finish line.
Trying to keep it positive, friends.
After grabbing a handful of bananas and a couple of waters (hey, I figured I should grab JD’s share of goodies too!), I met up with JD, grabbed some dinner, took a quick shower, and got on the road to Harry Potter.
And it was awesome.
You must go now.
But for those of you who read the books, yeah, the epilogue sucks on film as much as it did in the book.
If you’re of the mind that it was lame and unnecessary, anyway.
Which I am.
Thankfully, the rest of the movie was so good that I can look past that.
When JD and I exited the theater, it was 2:30 AM.
Late, but manageable. We’d be home soon.
Except that we were not home soon.
For some reason (still unknown), we sat in the parking structure for close to 45 minutes, as if we were trying to get out of a Justin Bieber concert and not a movie.
The parking structure was full of teens, laughing and folding themselves into cars without seat belts and yelling and also wearing shorts that were more like underwear.
It was traumatizing. Especially when they started blaring loud music and dancing around.
One teen actually popped out of his sunroof.
JD and I reasoned that we must be old to find this behavior so obnoxious.
Upon further reflection though, we probably would have thought they were obnoxious when we actually were teenagers.
This was slightly comforting.
Getting home at almost 4:00 AM was not.
But today’s another day chickadees, and at the end of it is the promise of my couch and a night of laundry.
Nothing has ever sounded so sweet.
Yeah, I’m definitely getting old.