Training: So Much for That Plan

Rolling With the Unexpected During Taper

On Thursday, back when everything was still going according to plan.

I spent the second half of the week in Sacramento where I was attending a conference. The conference didn’t technically end until Saturday, and I had plans for Friday night, so I decided that the sensible thing to do would be to wake early and drive directly from Sacramento to the location of our final Team in Training run and pre-race sendoff. After all, why drive all the way home to the Bay Area at 10:00 PM when I’d just have to turn around and drive back in the direction I’d come from at 7:00 the next morning? Plus, I’d get a good night’s sleep without any small people waking me with their bad dreams or complaints of crickets. (I’m looking at you, Tiny Kitchen Assistant.)

Well… my presentation on Friday didn’t go as smoothly as it would have liked. By the time I got to Friday night’s pizza dinner, it was clear that I had earned myself a well-deserved beer. How infrequently have I been drinking during training? Let’s just say that I had a rockin’ buzz going on half a beer. I’m a cheap date. Of course, I knew that this wasn’t going to make Saturday’s run any easier, but at that point, I didn’t really care because, hey, tapering! And carbs!

Let’s call that Strike One.

I got back to the hotel room, packed my bags, set my alarm for 5:00 AM and went to bed around 10:00. At 2:00, I was awakened by what my half-asleep and semi-disoriented brain thought was someone pounding on the door and shouting. Uh, that wasn’t the door that they were pounding on, and that wasn’t shouting. You think you know where this story is going, right?

Wrong. It took me a few minutes, but I finally realized that I was hearing the voices of two distinctly different women and one man. Yes, that’s right: I was awakened in the middle of the night by a threesome in Sacramento. (I’m going to trademark that phrase and use it as the title of a book someday.) Gotta give credit where credit is due, though: they were going at it nonstop for more than two hours. Of course, by that point, it was almost time for my alarm to go off.

This was, of course, Strike Two.

As an aside, several people have suggested that the neighbors were actually a politician and his two hookers, but they clearly haven’t been to Sacramento. Downtown is politician-free once the work day is over. I prefer the story that it was a groomsman and two bridesmaids from the earlier wedding. Please feel free to elaborate on the story in the comments.

So at 5:00 AM, I staggered out of bed, flushed the toilet about 32 times, banged the closet doors and generally made a nuisance of myself until I was dressed and ready to go. But I still had to wait a full 45 minutes of driving before I hit the first Peet’s coffee in Vacaville for a much-needed caffeine infusion.

Needless to say, when I finally dragged myself to the reservoir trail, I was looking like a bedraggled mess, and walked more of the miles than I actually ran. In fact, if I could have found a nice bench in the sunshine, I would have curled up on it and napped like a cat.

Since then, I’ve walked 4 miles roundtrip to dinner last night, and run around a museum with the Tiny Kitchen Assistant all day today. And as I look ahead to the week’s calendar, I’ve decided that I need to do all of my sleeping tonight, because there won’t be any time to do it until after the race next Sunday.

The race is next Sunday. Whoa. How could something that’s taken forever to get here also manage to sneak up on me like that?

Ok, readers: chime in. What’s your take on the Sacramento trio? ¬†And do you ever drink the night before a long run?

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