I seem to have a penchant for two-part stories lately.
Because the story of the 22-miler doesn't end there.
After we finished the run, 10 of us hopped into a van and drove to one of Lake Superior's beaches. So we could take a dip in the lake...to ice our legs.
Fun fact: Lake Superior's average temperature is 40 degrees F. BRRRR.
I'd believe it. Because CRAP IN A HAT. I was in up to my ankles and was ready to throw in the towel. COLD. But I took a deep breath and kept wading...until I was in up to my waist. I just knew that my glutes needed to be iced.
After chillin' on the beach for awhile, we decided we should probably refuel our tanks. With margaritas and mexican food. Ole! I waded into the lake wearing my running capris, so I was anxious to change clothes. We dropped off some of our group at the restaurant, and the rest of us headed back to put on dry clothes. No showers allowed yet. Thank god we were seated outside...who wants to sit next to ten runners that just ran 20+ miles??
After lunch, I checked my watch. 4:30pm. Where did the day go??
We headed back to the hotel, and I took a nice steamy shower. I discovered that the sun causes burning. Hmmm. Who knew? (Please let the record state that I did apply sunblock before the run)
Apparently the sun also causes me to make lame-ass hand gestures.
When I wear skirts to work, I can hear the people walking behind me snickering.
We flipped on the TV and I promptly fell asleep to Sex and The City reruns. Exhausted.
But my time in the dream world was cut short. Because it was time for dinner. The 35 of us headed out for some grub...and then out for some dancing. And drinking. And debautchering.
Yes, we had fun by the fluid ounce. I happened to see some pictures on someone's camera...but they haven't emailed them to me yet, so let me sketch an interpretation of what I saw:
Censored to protect theinnocent guilty
Yes, $5 pitchers of Long Islands = liquid satan.
Note to self: don't mention that your glutes are sore in the presence of drunk men. They WILL start massaging your ass.
We shook our money makers until the wee hours. Runners know how to party. Everyone from our group was on the dance floor - from age 21 to 50-something. We partied like rock stars. We Had A Blast. And remember how my throat felt a little sore when I woke up earlier that day? By 10pm, my voice was gone. The drinking, singing, shouting and merrymaking had taken a toll on my larynx. My voice was cracking and I sounded like a 13-year-old boy. Really attractive, I'm sure.
At about...1:55am, we decided it was time to tap out. We called a cab, headed back to the hotel, and fell into a deep and blissful sleep.
DAMN it was a fun night.
Because the story of the 22-miler doesn't end there.
After we finished the run, 10 of us hopped into a van and drove to one of Lake Superior's beaches. So we could take a dip in the lake...to ice our legs.
Fun fact: Lake Superior's average temperature is 40 degrees F. BRRRR.
I'd believe it. Because CRAP IN A HAT. I was in up to my ankles and was ready to throw in the towel. COLD. But I took a deep breath and kept wading...until I was in up to my waist. I just knew that my glutes needed to be iced.
After chillin' on the beach for awhile, we decided we should probably refuel our tanks. With margaritas and mexican food. Ole! I waded into the lake wearing my running capris, so I was anxious to change clothes. We dropped off some of our group at the restaurant, and the rest of us headed back to put on dry clothes. No showers allowed yet. Thank god we were seated outside...who wants to sit next to ten runners that just ran 20+ miles??
After lunch, I checked my watch. 4:30pm. Where did the day go??
We headed back to the hotel, and I took a nice steamy shower. I discovered that the sun causes burning. Hmmm. Who knew? (Please let the record state that I did apply sunblock before the run)
Apparently the sun also causes me to make lame-ass hand gestures.
When I wear skirts to work, I can hear the people walking behind me snickering.
We flipped on the TV and I promptly fell asleep to Sex and The City reruns. Exhausted.
But my time in the dream world was cut short. Because it was time for dinner. The 35 of us headed out for some grub...and then out for some dancing. And drinking. And debautchering.
Yes, we had fun by the fluid ounce. I happened to see some pictures on someone's camera...but they haven't emailed them to me yet, so let me sketch an interpretation of what I saw:
Censored to protect the
Yes, $5 pitchers of Long Islands = liquid satan.
Note to self: don't mention that your glutes are sore in the presence of drunk men. They WILL start massaging your ass.
We shook our money makers until the wee hours. Runners know how to party. Everyone from our group was on the dance floor - from age 21 to 50-something. We partied like rock stars. We Had A Blast. And remember how my throat felt a little sore when I woke up earlier that day? By 10pm, my voice was gone. The drinking, singing, shouting and merrymaking had taken a toll on my larynx. My voice was cracking and I sounded like a 13-year-old boy. Really attractive, I'm sure.
At about...1:55am, we decided it was time to tap out. We called a cab, headed back to the hotel, and fell into a deep and blissful sleep.
DAMN it was a fun night.
Labels: Beer...it's what's for dinner, Minnesoooooota, Running
3 Comments:
You're HOT!
LOL i love this post even more!! sounds like a FUNNNNN night!
DAMN. now i'm even MORE sorry i missed out. well let's hope there is a sweet part II to Party Central Canal Park on June 21st :)
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