Revelry regrets

14 June

Saturday was day 18 of 100 days of running. And another day that highlighted how important it is to exercise in the morning and not to wait until later in the day. Some days just scurry away from you, with too much to do. One task rolls into another and before you know it, the day is over and you’ve still not strapped on those running shoes or swiped that gym membership car.

So there I was at 5:45, thinking that I would go for my run at six, when I checked my phone. The running club’s social was at 6:30. That’s pretty damn early for any adult to be going out for the night, especially an adult who has chores and kids and dogs and a garden and stuff. So much stuff to do. It was a sit-down affair at a restaurant, so it would have been rude to arrive late, even if one’s excuse to one’s running comrades was to be ‘I went running’.

I got dressed quickly and got myself to the restaurant – a new place in Cape Town, which meant that it was completely packed, wall to wall, with sweet young things out on the town, desperate to be seen at the latest trendy spot. Stuffed animal trophies hung from the walls and a stuffed ostrich puffed out its feathers above the bar. The room was filled with the din of the voices of hundreds of hip and happening movers and shakers pressed up against each other, all speaking animatedly and rather loudly. For the rest of the evening we would all be shouting at each other, despite sitting shoulder to shoulder and speaking right up into each other’s faces.

Wine was poured and drunk and I got to speak to a few people I hadn’t met before. Mostly I got to hear about how very, very fast they were, and I resolved to just give up running. What was the point?! Really? Lordy. I could never have ambitions of working up such speeds, even if I turned up for training each week and followed the coach’s instructions to the letter. Some people are talented at singing, some at drawing, some at science … and some at running. Sure, we can all run, but it’s also a talent, and some people can simply run a great deal faster than others. And sitting next to people who run a marathon in under four hours or 5 km in 20 minutes can be a bit disheartening. Was a bit disheartening. Despite having told myself, just a few days ago, that I run against myself and that comparing myself to others is stupid.

And then, suddenly, tequila arrived. Why?! I don’t want tequila!

Not wanting to be naff, I took down the shot glass of razorblades. I can survive one tequila, I figured.

More wine was poured. And another round of tequilas made an appearance. Ah, bugger, man! Damn! It was time to call it a night. Wine and tequila was not what I had in mind.

I got home at about eleven o’clock, two tequilas and a fair bit of wine inside me, and got ready to go for my run. I’ll be damned if I’m starting back at day 1 of 100 days of running because my running coach ordered two rounds of tequila!

The Significant Other was convinced that I had lost the plot entirely. Not only had I arrived an hour late for wine tasting the night before, because I was determined to stick to my 100 days of running, but now I was heading out at close to midnight. He wasn’t letting me go out on my own, so he set off with me, despite needing to be up early to do a big run with his Bromance the next morning. I knew my Sunday run was ruined but I was definitely getting a quick one in before my coach turned into a pumpkin. Or my running shoes into rats. Or whatever.

We barreled through the dark, empty streets and it felt pretty good. I know I was a bit anaethetised, but still … I have had worse runs. At 2.85 km I pushed buttons on my Garmin to try to see if I had reached the 3-km mark yet. But I could see nothing – which meant that also couldn’t see that I had paused the damn thing. Three kays just wouldn’t come. I kept running, kept pushing buttons and kept waiting for the 3-kay beep. Nothing. Finally back under the streetlights on Main Road, I managed to see what my Garmin was telling me – or not telling me. With a groan, I pushed ‘resume’ and ran then 150 metres needed to log 3 km. So I ran closer to 4 km, after dinner, wine and tequila, and at almost midnight, but the Garmin didn’t record it, so it didn’t happen.

And Sunday was ruined. It’s almost 6 pm again, and I still haven’t gone out for a run. I have been slow and tired all day, and … well … generally pissed off that I had allowed myself to be thrown off track. I wanted to do a long run today but it will have to be a short one with the dog. The Significant Other ran 18 km uphill and downhill and then went to work. So he’s catching up on some sleep and the dogwalk will be my job tonight. And none of it was even worth it. The food was okay, but not spectacular, the wine was nice, but I have good wine at home and would have drunk much less had I not gone out, which means that today would have been more useful. The company was good, but so is the company at home. All round, there was no real reason to socialize to the point of wrecking Sunday and, most importantly, wrecking Sunday’s run.

But: I did fit a run in. I am still on track. I have made it to day 19.

All I have to do now is go for a run – in the cold, dark and wet … again! And get an early night tonight and get out of bed and onto the road tomorrow morning. Before another day gets away from me.

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