Upon my return from San Antonio, I spent the bulk of my last week of freedom doing as little as possible, as I feel is my duty as a teacher clinging to the last vestiges of summer break. However, I managed to squeeze in one last weekend of fun before cold, hard reality (i.e. school) intruded today.
My friend and coworker Amy and I drove out to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware to spend the weekend with a bunch of girls vactioning there. (Hi Katie, Chrystal, Emily, Mary, PJ and anyone else who has joined you by now!) We got there ahead of them, so we went to the beach until we heard they'd gotten the keys to the house. They'd settled in by the time we arrived, thus our greeting:
Katie: You're just in time for wine.
Me: That's one of my favorite sentences in the whole English language!
Now, beach houses tend to be themey. Generally very beachy or nautical in nature. Ours was a little more eclectic. Emily, Amy and I were staying in a room that we decided had an international theme. There was an Asian dragon picture, an American Indian wall hanging, a couple of other things I don't remember, and then these items.
A Freudian pillow. (Hello, Austria!) It says "Tell Me About Your Childhood" and turns out, when you crank the knob on the back to play Memory from CATS. What we wondered about was the thought process that made someone say, "Yes, I'll buy the Freud pillow. For my beach house!" Maybe the owner is a shrink? And this was a gift? Perhaps?
This framed poster comes to us from the art museum of Frankfurt. What we originally took to be a fine art print, we realized, upon further reflection, must be a public service announcement on the topic of personal hygiene. Germans: if you don't cut your nails, you won't be able to brush your hair. Or eat your pretzel! YOU'LL SPILL YOUR BEER!
Similarly alarming: the weather report calling for scattered thunderstorms all weekend. While we did enjoy a couple of hours of beach time on Saturday, it wasn't exactly under ideal conditions.
I took this picture in the direction of the nicer skies. It was much more cloudy and foreboding to the right. This weather did come in handy though on Sunday morning, when it was cool and overcast for Amy's and my eleven mile run.
I couldn't find an eleven mile route on Map My Run that wouldn't involve lots of turns and high probability of getting lost, so I proposed that we run on the boardwalk. Everyone seemed to think we were perhaps crazy and it would be awful, what with all the monotony, seeing as how the boardwalk is only 1.1 miles long.
Here's the thing though: a boardwalk comes with excellent people-watching, which keeps things fresh and new. Teenaged couples having tense conversations! People in all sorts of ill-advised beachwear! A mom horrifying her son with the mortification that is making him pose for a photo on his bike!
And the extremely toned girl who inspired this conversation:
Me: Wow. Look at her legs.
Amy: Yeah. But she probably has a personal trainer. And a nutritionist. And...
Me: Self-discipline.
Amy: Yeah.
Me: I look at people like her and I think, "I should radically alter my diet so I can look more like that." But then I look at cheese and I think, "I'm going to eat that."
Boardwalks are also 100% flat and come with a sea breeze, which is how I managed to run eleven miles on my target training pace and never, at any point, wish for the sweet release of death.
I think there are people who may enjoy running eleven miles. As I am not among them, the preceding is pretty much the best possible eleven mile run outcome. Added to that is the way that boardwalks have stands that sell fries that you can eat later in the day (for the purpose of replenishing your salt, of course) soaked in vinegar from a spray bottle. Plus you can stick your Powerade in the sand at your run's start point for a drink break every 2.2 miles and no one will even bother it.
And there's a conveniently-located, extremely cold ocean that you can charge into post-run for an ice bath for your joints. Unless you wuss out the instant it hits your ankles and run back onto dry sand. Pansy.
Sadly, boardwalks also have six long hours of traffic between them and DC on Sunday afternoons. And, as the Virginia Beach half-marathon only contains one mile of boardwalk, this weekend's twelve mile run will need to involve some hills. Meaning it will likely also involving wishing for death. And/or fries.
Big thanks to Katie for spearheading and Chrystal for organizing the beach trip. I hope you have lots of sunshine the rest of the week! Or at the very least, lots of sangria.