It turns out that margaritas and a burrito are not, in fact, a good dinner the night before a run. Who knew, right? Oh wait, I DID know that. But they were both important in keeping me from exploding on Friday night.
Every afternoon when I leave work I call my mom and talk with her for the drive home (and for a long time after I reach home). It's quite easy to keep the majority of attention on the drive and still converse with her. Friday night I was almost off the freeway when the very loud noise started. I had been fighting the wheel the entire drive since it was windy as hell, but otherwise nothing different from normal. This noise was not normal. Nor was the bumping and pulling on the right side of the car. I realized I had a flat and hung up on my mom so that I could devote full attention to my car. I pulled into the first parking lot and went to look at the tire. It was not only flat on the bottom, it was square and flat all over. Whoopsie, that wasn't good.
I called CSAA and had a conversation with a woman who seemed to speak very little English. I gave her all my information and she told me it would be up to 45 minutes before someone got there. Y'know, Friday night commute. Within 10 minutes another woman called me and asked me why I didn't have lug nuts on my wheel and how the tire had stayed on the car. Huh? No, I thought the first woman had asked if I had locks on the wheels. Heh. I was told someone would be out within the half hour.
The truck arrived, the nice AAA man whipped off the dead tire and put on the mini spare and I was ready to go. To Costco, to see if they could sell me a new tire. That was a big nope; they had the right type of tire, but it was for a big truck. They sent me across the street to Big O tire.
I made it just in time. They had a nice set of cheap tires that met the specs and they could install them right then. The guy told me they were closing in 14 minutes. I asked how long it would take to install the new tires: 14 minutes. It actually took about twice that, but I handed over my overused credit card and was on my way.
Thus, the margaritas and burrito. Therapy!
The run did go well, even with our poor manner of fueling. Bree and I went 8 miles at Inspiration Point on a beautifully clear, windy morning. The damn cows stayed out of my way this week, leaving only their large runny piles in the middle of the trail (and may I say, if the ranchers can graze their beasts out in the public park, they should have to wash down the trail too). We were slow, taking our time. The wind was bad enough that I pulled my Buff over over my head (look, it's babushka woman!). That took care of the wind blowing in one ear and out the other.
I was working on slamming down the hills as hard as I could, something I wish I had done more than one steenkin' week before the marathon. I know I won't be able to run fast uphill, so I want to make up the time going downhill without blowing out my quads. I felt good afterward so the pounding didn't cause any problems.
I left Bree with one mile to go and ran in it as strongly as I could. It was my fastest mile of the morning and although I was glad I was done, I felt great. Cold, windblown and gritty but great. It was a good taper run.