The morning after-the day of the wedding- is drizzling and overcast. There is a heavy fog over the mountains. Or hills-the Rockies are mountains. We?re a quarter mile high, last I saw, and that ain't no mountain.
The rooms of the beautiful Chalet Motel are filled with recovering tipplers. Some wake up to hunt down breakfast in town or to go shopping. Morgan is solid. He and I get bagels while Silver sleeps off his drunk. Which made him roll around all night. While I was in the same bed. I didn't sleep much.
I wanted to run. Get some of the badness out of my system. Feel a little cleaner, more athletic, less of a shlub. Emma, staying next door, who knows a number of my HS classmates, had made a running pledge. But she too was feeling the hangover. Me? I didn't feel it at all. I was anxious, sitting in a foreign bed, watching cartoons.
Did I mention Morgan is solid? He had comic books. I think he put it best when he told Heather or Karen that we were talking for a while and then he brought out some comics and we went silent and read. Good times.
The sun came out around 2 pm; Emma was energized and we ran. She led the way on a run we guess totaled 3 miles. I didn't feel the pain at all; she runs at an excellent pace. Made for distance. Plus she is good company. I think the drunks were impressed that we were being athletic while they were still seeking the hair of the dog. I went running again on Monday, 5 miles, using that pace-and that felt good.