Cranky McCrankypants

Ran a 7-miler yesterday - woohoo! Once again, I was struck by the way that my body responds sluggishly to the first 20-30 minutes, and then I gradually loosen up until the running feels effortless. Almost effortless :)

Despite how great a long run makes me feel, dealing with the after effects is a delicate business. I do all the right things, as far as I can tell: cool down, stretch, hydrate, eat, and of course, the ever important shower. Yesterday, however, I scrimped a little on the eating part - I was due to go out for a friend's birthday party and I figured I would maintain a certain level of hunger so I'd actually want to eat when I got there.

Little logistical glitch I overlooked: there was NO FOOD at the chosen venue! I had been under the impression that it was a club/pub where we could sit around and order some pitchers and wings - yum. But no. It was actually a club/restaurant - only the restaurant part was closed.

This made me and my low blood sugar a little cranky. But I thought I could deal. However, the crankiness was further exacerbated by the fact that of the two rooms available for dancing, our party chose the one playing icky hip-hop music (no offense to anyone who likes it - just really not my thing), instead of the one with awesome retro, not to mention the fact that the hip-hop room was getting these horrible wafts of cigarette smoke from the outdoor patio. I know, I'm spoiled by Toronto's bylaws, and most people associate bars and clubs with cigarettes as something completely natural, but I'm accustomed to cleaner air. Plus, since developing asthma this year (albeit very mild), I'm even more sensitive than usual to the feeling of tar and other charming chemical byproducts clogging up my lungs. I've been to Bodyworlds, I've seen those nasty blackened lungs, and I'm steering waaay clear of that crap.

So the hunger, the smoke, and probably a touch of PMS to round out the equation, made me one very emotional unhappy partier. Luckily - mush alert - my boyfriend puts up with me and is nice to me even when I'm being totally unreasonable, and he gave me a big hug and told me we could leave and go find some food instead. A yummy chicken-bacon-toast sandwich later, I was more or less myself again, and we headed home to complete the final and most important part of the post-run recovery ritual - sleep, glorious sleep.