But then I scribbled this blog post in my Palm while in the cab:
did i ever tell you all about
how the cokehead alcoholic read all the blog archives and then asked me never to talk to him again? I never foond ootif it was that i stolehis Viagra, or that I felt like was slumming, or that i called him a cokehead alcoholic. But that's what he is; he must have known, right? maybe he would have preferred that i'd called him the bedwetter?
...and then passed out soon after arriving at Nomda's hotel room. When I awoke, she helpfully played the voicemail I'd left her, to banish any remaining misconceptions of sobriety.
Despite lots of sleep yesterday, I'm still recovering. So no, I did not get up at six this morning to run another 3.34 miles like I did on Sunday.
(While we're on the subject, latest running stats are:
Last Tuesday -- 2.75 miles in 39 minutes, 14.2 minutes/mile
Sunday -- 3.34 miles in 45 minutes, 13.5 minutes/mile
Today -- sweet, sweet sleep)