I'm back.
It's been another fun-filled week here in Bexville.
Well. Kind of.
Thanksgiving - remember that? Only a week ago, but now just a faint memory with a slight aftertaste of cranberry sauce.
First, a 5-mile Turkey Trot that E. and I ran, though I as a bandit (and in a race sponsored by my local running club!). Then saw "Corteo," a whimsical, beautifully stunning, and acrobatic show by Cirque du Soleil (the photo is of me mugging in Cirque's shop during intermission). Capped the day with a yummy turkey dinner and homemade pumpkin pie at a friend's house.
Blitzkrieg trip to the Big Apple: But all of that holiday goodness dissipated on Monday at 4:12 p.m. That's when The Powers That Be said I must go to New York City immediately for a story. Aaaaargh. So much for a relaxing evening, not to mention my scheduled 6-mile tempo run.
Scrambled for train and hotel reservations. Caught the 8:30 p.m. train to Penn Station. Arrived at midnight. Crashed to a honking cacaphony of taxis 26 floors below. From 7:45 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. the next day, as holiday tourists thronged Times Square a few blocks away, I gripped and grinned and interviewed lots of middle-aged folks in dark suits, and took notes at the rawther tony Princeton Club.
Afterwards, famished, stumbled into a Japanese restaurant and ate what must have been a whole school of fish. Caught the 8:15 p.m. Acela train to Washington, arriving home at 11:20 p.m.
The rest of the week has also been kind of like that. You know, busy as hell. So that's why, dear readers, I have not been around lately.
Running update: I did manage to squeeze in an abbreviated speed workout on the treadmill on Wednesday night. 2 X 1600, then 2 X 800 at 7:30/mile pace, with a quarter-mile jog in between repetitions. My lungs hurt afterwards. Gotta do more speed workouts.
On Thursday, it was too dark to run outside, and I didn't have any reflective gear, besides. So I logged 75 minutes on a stationery bike, my quads burning through 25 miles. Let's call that equivalent to about 8 miles or so of running.
Next time: My marathon DVD of the 2006 Marine Corps Marathon finally arrives. I laugh. I cry. But mostly, I wonder, "Where the hell am I?!"
