Today was the first morning in ages that I woke up and thought, I can't run. I'm too exhausted.
Lacing up my shoes, it all started playing like a movie in my head.
For probably two weeks leading up to the Chicago Half Marathon, I didn't sleep. Or if I did, it was fitful and fraught with weirdo nightmares of getting lost.
Compounding my lack of sleep, my whole family, and many families around us are sick with some yuck deal that is either a virus or a severe case of allergies.
Consequently, I've been pounding Emergency drink, Airborne, Zinc, Vitamin C and water.
Then my calendar smacked me in the ass when I realized that I've volunteered for a shit load of roles/events at my kiddos' school and church.
And, another half marathon in 8 weeks.
And, a jewelry business that I'm resurrecting.
And, I'm crazy. Certifiably so.
So, at the risk of sounding immature...lazy...or sophomoric....here's what I want to do.
I want to run my long run on Saturday morning, drink a ginormous glass of vitamin D chocolate milk, take a steaming hot shower, fall asleep to a great play list, wake up and start drinking. You name it. Martinis, Mimosas, Champagne....it doesn't much matter. I just want to drink. Then sleep again. Then sleep some more. Take some ibuprofen. Regain consciousness. Resume the routine. And be happy.
It's okay if it's only a fantasy. It's a beautiful one that may someday become actualized. Until then, here's to sleep and dreams of indulgent behavior.