It's 1:30am on a Monday morning and I'm eating a turkey dinner that, by my estimation, weighs about two pounds.
I have always noticed that in recovery from a tough race, my body follows a strict hierarchy of needs. When I got home late Sunday afternoon from running the Lost Turkey 100K, I had been awake for over 36 hours not counting the little nap I took Saturday afternoon before the race's 6pm start. I badly needed sleep, but I also had not eaten a real meal since noon on Saturday.
Which would take priority? My stomach told me, unequivocally. I ate a turkey dinner (just like the one I am eating now, both supplied by the race). After that I couldn't keep my eyes open no matter what I did, and I went to bed around 6pm.
But now it's 1:30, I've slept for seven hours, and I woke up kind of hungry. At first I thought to mollify my re-disgruntled stomach by feeding it a nutrition shake and going back to bed, but as I lay there (not going back to sleep) it became obvious that though it had accepted the shake (and some leftover popcorn that Karen had left on the kitchen counter) happily enough, it was still prodding me to go scrounge around for something more, and was now hopefully suggesting, "You know, that second turkey dinner might be good about now."
That's why I'm eating a two-pound turkey dinner at 1:30 in the morning.
But I've finished it now, and I'm pretty sure I'll be asleep again before I can finish this race report. Maybe I'll do this one in installments.
'night, everyone!
