The Beer — Goose Island 312 (Price Paid: $0)
That’s right, children, the beer recap is coming before the running recap in this entry. That’s because, in a somewhat unusual twist, the drinking portion actually came before the running portion of Friday’s goal fulfillment.
A little background– every Friday at 3pm, my company (Coyote Logistics) carts in a few kegs so that everyone in the office, if they so choose, can knock back a beer or two during the final hours of the work week. The typical Coyote employee will work between 50-60 hours during the week, so it’s nice to get a little extra enjoyment out of those last two hours; ever since I joined the company in 2007, “Coyote Fridays” have served as a nice way to reward us all for a week’s worth of hard work.
The company will normally purchase 3 kegs and be done with it (I should probably mention that there are 500+ people working out of my office, so it’s not like 3 kegs is an excessive amount), but for whatever reason, on this day they doubled up on kegs. My team had originally planned on heading out to a bar for drinks sometime after work, but this unexpected deliverance of extra beer made us dither. With free kegs of good beer (Goose Island 312 wheat ale) flowing at the office…well, did it really make sense to leave just yet?
In the end, a few of us turned on some music at our workstation(s) and kicked back with a few cold ones, and I ended up staying a couples hours’ past normal quitting time. The buzz didn’t really hit me until I boarded the bus to head home…
The Run — 1.02 miles in 09:31
…and boy, did it hit me hard. I left the office sometime between 7:30-8:00pm, and while we obviously weren’t pounding them back like we’d been at an open bar, the evening did get a little more Mad Men than we’d previously intended. 5 hours of drankin’ is still 5 hours of drankin’, and by the time I arrived at my apartment, going for a run was about the last thing that I wanted to be doing. Still, a goal is a goal, and so I dutifully changed out of my work clothes and strapped on my running shoes, much to my roommate Cash’s open-mouthed disbelief. This wouldn’t be fun, but even if I’m drunk, how hard could it be to run a mile?
As it turns out, running a mile is pretty fucking difficult when you’re loaded. I needed to do the bare minimum, and so at 8:30pm I started running my Wrigley Field Loop, and it wasn’t until about halfway through the run that I finally cracked a 10:00/mile pace. I nearly tripped on two separate occasions, and it wasn’t until I rounded the north side of Wrigley that I felt comfortable upping my pace to a more respectable 09:00/mile jog. By the time I made it back to my apartment, I was actually feeling more or less okay, as if I had magically processed all of the alcohol out of my system. I was confident that I could still make it out on the town…that is, until I sat down on my couch to “rest my eyes” after my shower, and I woke up 4 hours later. So much for going out, eh? As my old roommate Jim Burrows used to say, “It’s not a problem, it’s a gift.”
My favorite part about this run is the Garmin readout of my workout, shown above. On cloudy nights, sometimes the Garmin satellites have a tough time getting a lock on my exact location, and my GPS position on a map may vary widely off-course in comparison to where I’m running. That was certainly the case on the readout map above, but if I hadn’t told you about the occasional problems with the Garmin satellites, then my Garmin readout would look like the drunkest run that had ever been stumbled. At one point on that map, it looks like I hopped the field at Wrigley and ran down the first baseline, which would have been epic but sadly did not happen.
So I learned that I can run a mile while drunk…I don’t intend to make a practice out of it, but this could be useful.