Rule #1: Cardio

Hello dearest hooligans. We are officially post-Halloween. I hope the majority of you are either entering or recovering from a candy coma. Did you borrow a child to trick or treat with for the night? I spotted one very small giraffe that I could have stolen (in the fashion of the Goblin King), but she had a whole cadre of Padawan bodyguards.

But really. Give me the Butterfinger or I will cut you.

I hope you didn’t have to catch a bus at 5:30 this morning, because that would be pretty terrible. Not that I’m speaking from personal experience.

As Allison helpfully pointed out, today is my seventh day functioning on very little sleep. She made this observation from the bed (which she didn’t have to leave) while I staggered around gathering enough clothing to survive the morning commute. You know who wakes up alert and ready to face the day before the sun? People who can go back to sleep. And the elderly, but that’s only one of their many inexplicable behaviors (see also: poached eggs, Fox News, removing dentures in public).    

Let me elaborate. Last week my darling Lo graced the city of Portland with her presence. Since it had been at least a full week since my last staycation, I requested time off to play tour guide.

Lo’s itinerary for her four day stay:

1)      Drink a ruby beer

2)      Run a 5k

Unfortunately, my debilitating indecision and her yogic contentedness are a poor match on the “activities” front. Nobody knows what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. But when two immovable objects meet, the resultant five hours spent ogling pug pictures surprises nobody. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

Lacking guidance, I appropriated Lo’s vacation as my own, using it as an excuse to fulfill every food fantasy. Note: I have a lot of food fantasies. Sometimes food is fuel, and sometimes it is fondue. Being on vacation justifies every extravagance! Including but not limited to conveyor belt sushi, microbrews for breakfast, and multiple plates of nachos at the Space Room.

Don’t worry, our itinerary also included exercise. Approximately three months ago Lo put me in charge of signing us up for the Color Vibe Run, because online forms are her kryptonite. And procrastinating is mine. Moral of the story: you can’t always register for events 24 hours before events/ some things in life require foresight and planning/so on/so forth. But! Sometimes my poor planning proves fortuitous. After five minutes of frantic google searching, I found another event:

The Dawn of the Dead Dash declared itself “an exciting ‘life-changing’ adventure run through the streets of the city”. I signed us up, breezing through the fine print. Turns out “adventure run” is code for “citywide game of zombie tag”. The undead hordes started gathering at sunset on Saturday. Based on my observations newlyweds, prom queens, and medical industry workers will comprise the majority of the zombie population when the apocalypse finally hits. There may also be a unicorn and several Pokemon. You never know. They pacified us with free beer, slapped glow collars on to represent our humanity, and released us into the night. 

Don't Be A Hero.

Things to keep in mind:

1)      The run wasn’t on a closed course, there were three checkpoints we had to reach sequentially within an allotted period of time.

2)      Because the run wasn’t on a closed course, the organization didn’t have to notify the city.

3)      Because the run was in a residential area, residents raised reasonable concerns about the number of screaming people being chased through the dark streets.

4)      Cops were called. Chaos ensued.

Surviving a zombie apocalypse reveals a lot about a human being. We stayed alive by circumventing the “main course” and running an extra 2 miles because we’re elite like that. We also determined I’m either ‘very excitable’ or ‘more cautious than most’, depending on how you interpret my reticent feelings toward dark alleys. And porches. And trees. And parked cars.

But obviously it’s taken a lot more than one nighttime run to really know Lo. Since moving to Portland she’s been my confidante; a judgment free zone. Because sometimes I have to buy hot wings on the way home from work to cope with a stressful day. And you know what? That’s ok. There are probably better things and there are probably worse things. In the end you embrace what gets you from one day to the next relatively unscathed.

In conclusion (because I always want there to be a conclusion): to really know and be known by another human being is simultaneously comforting and terrifying. Because what do you say when there’s nothing left to say? You eat your extravagance, run your race, drink your silences, and just exist. Oh, and you watch strippers perform incredible feats of athleticism to the tune of terrible karaoke classics (ex. Monster Mash).

Lo, thank you for existing with me.

All my love to the rest of you creeps!

-b