Most people, when noticing someone in a jogging outfit running alongside a road at seven AM, think something along the lines of, “There is someone who woke up early and went for a run.” Or, “Look, a dedicated runner with self-control and motivation.”
Most people, most people would be wrong.
***
Jamie called me and I laughed. A few days earlier he’d been posing on his bed in the classic centerfold position; head resting on hand, body lying across the bed, all smiles and fuck me eyes. I couldn’t help but snap a photo with my camera phone of him holding that pose and surrounded by posters you’d only find in a preteen girls room. Although in an attempt to annoy his superiors he adorned his room with the posters, the giant puppy saying “Who needs a hug?” just didn’t do the proper justice outside of image. I had forgotten that the photo was set as his caller ID, so when a centerfold Cheshire grin looked up at me during phone vibrations I hit “accept”.
“Hey bro, I’m on my way over.”
“Cool. I’ll start getting things ready for dinner.”
Jamie arrived and in a blur he and I threw together what ended up being a marvelous dinner. Like a good quarterback sneak it came in looking like a regular performance and ended up being a spectacular play on a normal option. In the midst of it he threw down the bomb which would essentially ruin my evening.
“So, Hack is down and wants to go out. So we’re headed to Silver Wings.”
“Oh..?” I said with anticipation.
“Yeah, you want to go?”
Of course I did. I had no job. No reason to wake up on time for anything, except my workout schedule. And that was my schedule, so it was at my whims.
“Of course I do. Lets roll.”
***
At the bar the sole worker walked out from behind the wood counter and gave us hugs. When you go to a dive that small, they’re bound to remember who you were. Some nonessential chatter later, we had two frosty mugs and a pitcher of Miller Lite sitting at a table. And then it all slowly went downhill.
One pitcher turned to two turned to Jamie ordering Porn Star drop-shots turned to me accidentally ordering another pitcher turned to me drinking every remaining item on the table. By that time Hack and others had come and gone and I was lit. Jamie was kind enough to drive me back to my place where I thought long and hard about the upcoming few hours and decided, fuck it. Why not?
So I grabbed the remaining beers in the fridge, sat down on the couch, and started watching TV. It was only midnight or so, and my 5 mile run could wait until I woke up.
And then I started getting phone calls and more drunk, and chatted with some friends on different coasts and in Europe. And before I knew it, I was 10 more beers deep and the sun was rising and it was 6 am. And I knew without a doubt that any attempt to sleep would end with me waking up sometime in the afternoon, completely unable to function and worthless on a run.
So I did what any self respecting drunkard would do and I downed a Red Bull, are some chips, brushed my teeth, and went for a run. Early in the morning and jogging along to a beat only found in my head. Finished my 5 miles and went on to have more adventures in the day. Slightly buzzed and heavily delirious. Because if you see me running at 7 AM on a Tuesday and thought I was an early riser. Well, you’d be wrong. I’m just in for the ride.
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