Running on Beer

October 27, 2010

It’s the 27^th of October, as if that matters. Our days are spent, each in the same manner, with few exceptions. Could be very boring; almost anything can be. Likewise, any moment can be rich with experience to the point where boredom might be somewhat of a relief, which is another experience to be enjoyed. One of the things I’ve begun to realize: life is just life,  joy and sadness are more a result of choice than of fate or design.

Emelie and I woke up around 7AM this morning. I never fail to enjoy our lack of an alarm clock and lack of the necessity to use it. I lay in bed, comfortably snuggling with my wife. I contemplated my morning bike ride. Should I stay or should I go? The weight of choice lay like a heavy pillow, pressing me further into comfort – a persuasion to stay just where I was.

I thought about long-term health and well-being vs. immediate comfort. I’d been biking only a couple of weeks. I envisioned myself in the future: after consistent biking at least 4 days a week, for several months, I bounced out of bed in the mornings, happy and energetic. Feelin’ good!  I knew that result; was confident of it. I’ve been there.

I got up and got ready; made a cup of coffee, Filipino style (Nestles 3-in-1); drank it down and ate a few bananas, then headed out. My bike is an old road machine made in Vietnam. For a rear brake, it has an enclosed disc. When you squeeze the brake lever, two semi-circular pads clamp down on the outside edge of the disc. Weird, but it works. The wheels are alloy, which is good because anything with iron in it rusts in a hurry, this close to the sea.

Some days I ride north to Malabuyoc, about 8 kilometers away. I vary my ride by going south to Samboan when I am in the mood. Either way, it’s a ride along the coastal road and the view of the sea and the small villages and mountains is spectacular.

I went south, riding at a good clip. It is never my plan to ride at any particular pace. But on this morning, my legs were telling me to go and my lungs didn’t put up a fuss. In a half hour’s time I had ridden down and back, a trip that usually takes me one hour. It was the coffee. And maybe the liter of beer I had the day before.

Once, years ago, I took up running. I was living in Ft. Myers, Florida and joined the Fort Myers Recreation Center to run on their outdoor track. The rec center was right next door to where I worked as a lab tech in the hospital.

Back then, I hung out with a group of guys from Belize, Central America. We drank Guinness beer and I regularly explored the finer liquors with my friend and mentor in the realm of drinking, Hugh Fuller. I had three Guinness the night before this particularly memorable morning on the track. When I hit the track that morning, I was dog-tired. My legs didn’t want any movement what-so-ever. My brain was still half asleep. This was back in a time when I was still foolish enough to use an alarm clock.

I showed up because my stubborn determination told me I had to. There was no expectation of running. A slow walk or a crawl, even, would be success enough. So, I started out at a slow walk, then thought, what the hell, give it a try. I can stop any time I want. I’m here and I am doing something – moving. That’s enough.

After the first lap, something was wrong: I felt great! I mean, I expected to feel like shit. Anything more would be suspect. When you exceed your expectations, to the degree that I did that morning, you just don’t feel right about it, somehow. Especially if you were raised Catholic. There’s a price to pay for the fun of drinking, laughing and having a general good time. Karma should be biting me in the ass. Instead I was getting the green light for nights of self-indulgence. Hmmmm..

I stopped jogging and ran, full out. I had no fatigue. I slowed to a comfortable jog and did seven laps. Four was my usual and it left me gasping for air. Seven had no effect. I could have done ten, maybe 15, but I stopped, the fear of retribution hiding out in the recesses of my washed brain, telling me I was pushing my luck. Life is a struggle, not a cake-walk. What you do today, you pay for tomorrow. The ways of sin…. A path of destruction…. An eye for an eye….. No free lunch. Quit while you’re ahead. The devil tempts and God punishes. What goes around comes around.

I was never to repeat that experience. Future drinking sessions only made me drunk and tired, not energized.

It’s okay. I still enjoyed our drinking sessions and continued to do so until they lost their value. And waiting a day before jogging was a good option, much better than pushing and punishing by forcing myself to exercise when it was counterproductive.

Live and learn. So be it.