Friends Don’t Let Friends Run Angry

Things were shaping up nicely on Saturday.  There was an actual gameplan, not just waiting to see what presented itself (usually sitting on the couch watching tv presents itself).  But not this Saturday!  We walked up 14th St to some shops then swung by the farmer’s market on 14 & U.  Got some bread, an apple, you know, a relaxing little Saturday.  Ev then had to go into work (sucks!), so we parted ways when the bus came.  

While walking back I decided to swing by The Bike Rack to possibly buy a cycling jersey.  I’ve been getting geared up to ride my bike for the first time in awhile now that the weather was improving and finished up a big research paper.  They didn’t have much in stock, and nothing in my size, so I left empty-handed with a new plan: Head home, change into cycling gear (minus jersey), ride out to lunch, return some books, swing by City Sports for a jersey, and then go for a longer ride.  Brilliant plan!

1) Go home: check.
I changed and headed down to the third floor of the parking garage (better known as P3 by my elevator) to grab my bike.  Walked over to where it should have been, and that’s when the plan went straight to hell.   I stood there for a second staring at the bike rack thinking if it could have been on another floor.  Then I noticed there was a gap in the row of bikes.  At the bottom of that gap there was a bike lock and the wire that loops through the frame and wheels was cut.  I continued to stare, confounded by the situation.  I bent down and even checked if my lock key fit the lock… yep.  DAMMIT!

At this point the rest of the great plan is shot.  Sparing the details, I end up back in my apartment and decide to run off some steam.  I didn’t care if I was supposed to run easy on Sunday; I didn’t care if it was 87 degrees outside; I didn’t care if the person who took my bike got hit by a bus.  (Actually, I did care.  I very much would have liked that to happen)

I started out pretty quick for the first mile (7:37 min/mile) and decided to push it harder.  The 1 mile mark is where I generally have to make the decision where the rest of my run is going to take me.  I wasn’t sure how long the total would be, but I chose to head down into Virginia, across a few bridges, and end up at Eastern Market.  It could have been 5 miles, it could have been 12.  I figured I’d just run until I got there and see what my Garmin said.

The second mile was 7:16 min/mile.  That’s when the heat started to get to me and the wheels began to fall off.  Using the anger and adrenaline to keep going, I got to mile 3 and had to stop.  My heartrate was approaching the stratosphere (metaphor for really high) and I couldn’t hold the pace.  The sun sucked any energy reserves out of me and I struggled through the rest of the run, which ended up totaling 8 miles even.

Turns out that running on emotions can lead to running on fumes.  I was completely drained afterwards, so it did its job of releasing some steam.  At this point I’ve filed a police report, submitted a claim with my insurance, and waiting to talk to my building management.  Hopefully there will be better news in the days (ha! probably months) to come.  In hindsight Ev pointed out that it’s replaceable and not the end of the world.  At the time, though… ohhhh boy.  

Thanks for letting me vent.

Ever decide to run simply because you were sad / angry / happy?  Let me hear about it in the comments!  It’ll make me feel better.

Details:

Distance: 8.00 miles
Time: 1:04:34
Pace: 8:04 min/mile
Average Heartrate: 171 bpm

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    • Colin
    • May 12th, 2009

    That really sucks. Hopefully the building will be helpful with everything. No way that kind of thing should be happening. Those pissed of runs really can help blow of steam and help get things back into perspective.

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