Love never dies.
So, Sunday is long run day, and that means a training wrap up.
This week, I did three 8km runs, one 5km run and my long run of 15km. It's getting stinking hot here again, so I decided to start the long run at 5am, have it over and done with before 7am.
I skipped one gym session to go to work's Christmas do. I learnt what the local teenagers call R. and myself. They call him 'Marathon Man' and they call me 'Marathon Chick.' They don't know us, but have seen us jogging around enough to know that yeah, those two run a lot. I can live with that as nicknames. (We wandered across a bunch of kids when we were walking home from the Christmas Party. It's three km from home, and much better than negotiating which of us is the designated driver.)
I have a bit of a pre-run ritual before long runs, which takes around 45 mins (the preparation, not the long run.). Eat some toast with vegemite, make my drinks, get dressed, assemble bits and pieces, go to the bathroom twice, and head out the door. So, to start running at 5am, I really need to wake up at 4:15am.
Unfortunately, this does not gel well with having a life. I like 8hours sleep, but can deal with 6. So, R. and I planned to get home from a party at 10pm (it started at 3pm, so we got to have lots of fun, anyway). We got home, in a civilised state at 10pm, to discover three of the houses on our street were having parties. The neighbours over the back fence, the next door neighbours and the kids across the street.
The people doing karoake to the Doors turned off the stereo at 11pm, the country and western party calmed down about then. That left the teenagers, and their top forty stuff. I recognise I'm now old, because I only listen to that music at the gym. I hate the gym, so I consequently have special feelings of hatred towards Pink. If I hear Pink, it means I'm about to do chin-ups, or other similar lunacy.
At 11pm, I managed to fall asleep. (Simple mathematics tells me I'm already shy of a 6hr sleep.)
At 2am, I wake up to the plaintive howls of Pink's "Please, please don't leave me". Argh. Pink. 2am. Awake. While I was mentally debating if I wanted to phone the cops (approve of that, except I had to get up.), I was further awakened by another neighbour going over to have a shouting match about turning the stereo off. It was turned off. Yay! I am not a pleasant person if you wake me up at 2am with Pink.
Unfortunately, when my alarm went off, I said something along the lines of "ARgh, at least it's not Pink, I need more sleep, ahhhhhhhhhhhfewkit." Consequently I woke at 6am, and ran in the heat. Not pleasant, but done. I like done.
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