Today was the toughest day of running so far, and yesterday the most dramatic.
And both owe that to liquids.
Yesterday’s culprit was the rain, a light drizzle when I left my apartment, and huge, pounding drops by the time I got to the track, circled once, and beelined back to my apartment, yoga pants heavily soaked with water and sticking fiercely to my thighs. I thought my iPhone was safe enough in my windbreaker pocket, and the music kept playing from it through my headphones, timer speeding along, as I reached my door. Then it went black. An extensive toweling off, cold blowdrying, and night in a bag of rice (to absorb the moisture— awesome trick I didn’t know of until yesterday) and few hours in the freezer later, it regained consciousness this morning, and it was my companion this evening.
With no view into this happily ever after future, however, I started drinking early yesterday at happy hour. Then came a friend’s party, and more bars. I’d been feeling a little tight in my chest and small side aches all day, and it creeped out a bit tonight on the track.
Living in NY, bars and alcohol are a part of life and a huge ingredient in both social and professional settings. My training so far has kept me much more mindful of my consumption habits, and today’s lingering pains cement that philosophy. I’ll save the big nights for rainy days.
