Saturday began with the hopes of a long run before our day started in Des Moines. Oh, that's right, no it didn't. I opted to take Saturday off leaving me no option to get my long run in on Sunday. Here's how my Saturday played out:
6:45am - Woke up to the sound of "MOMMY! DADDY!" emanating from my 2 year old son's room. I tried to pretend to not hear it so my wife would "take care" of him. RazZDoodle needs his beauty sleep.
8:30am - Visited the Des Moines' farmer's market which, by the way, kicks some serious organic ass. No lie.
12pm - Considered a beer for a job well-done for putting my son down for his nap.
2:30pm - Picked up my sister from the Des Moines International Airport. International? Really? How classy.
3:30pm - Congratulated myself for being an exceptional navigator to and from the airport by making myself a gin and tonic (Boodles).
3:45pm - Decided that I better hold off after this drink because of my long run.
3:46pm - Decided that I'm not running tomorrow.
Repeat 3:30pm, 3:45pm, 3:46pm until about 10pm.
10pm - Drink copious amounts of water and down a couple Advil.
Sunday came early and I felt OK, so I wandered out and began my run. All was well. It was a nice morning and I was cruising with nary a sign of a hangover. At about mile 2, I approaced a wooded trail. About .25 miles into that trail, a big deer stood in my way. WTF? What the hell do I do? We locked eyes and it was either:
A) Run past him and explain to him that, because I have thumbs, I should be able to pass.
B) Tell him I like deer jerky (not a euphemism).
C) Reverse! Reverse! Reverse!
I think we can all pretty much determine that C was my only option. Either that, or I'm this guy but with less camouflage:
I backtrack and, to get my miles in, I decide to "explore" the area. Well, my "exploration" turned my intended 7 mile run into 9. Whoops. I think what I'm going to need to do is, rather than wear my Garmin, I need to mount those little deer whistles that people put on the hood of their car onto my shoes. That'll show 'em!
1 day ago