Craving for a Run

I am a running freak. There, I said it. I never knew I’d ever think it, much less admit it, but after what happened tonight, this frightening fact can no longer be denied. Although most of my friends by now know that I’m a hardcore runner, (in fact, I believe I’m the only person in the world who ever hears “Hey, you look happy today, did you get new running shoes?” by the same group of friends more than once a week…) I doubt any of them can actually comprehend the full extent of my running freakiness. I am careful not to share my running-related thoughts with them while we’re hanging out because I think it’d actually frightened them. Never mind them, I’m scared by my own freakiness sometimes.

Take this afternoon. A few friends and I were exchanging emails and talking about hanging out after work today. For one reason or another we were all getting out a little early, so we made plans for happy hour. Unbeknownst to them, I made plans to get out of work a little early today so I could get in a nice long midweek training run. I was disappointed that my friends chose today out of all days to get together because I work late hours the other days of the week so daylight running was only an option on Thursdays. Still, I grudgingly agreed that I would meet up with them even while I was making secret desperation plans to fit my run in, no matter what. After the time and place for happy hour was set, the conversation shifted to food and drinks. It was getting late in the afternoon and all of my friends were craving for different kinds of snack foods and beer. As for me, all I was craving for was…you guessed it…a good run in the park. The weird part was the more people talked about how they much they were craving good buffalo wings, or chips and salsa, and whatever…the more I was craving my run. Eventually, it became all I could think about, even after the conversation was long over and I was seeing my last patients in the office. Even though it was cold and windy outside, every one of them got a lecture from me about exercise and running as it pertained to their hormonal problem, even if it had nothing to do with their individual issue at all. I’d love to be a fly on the wall and read some of the patient surveys that were filled out after their visit with me. It would’ve made for some interesting reading.

Eventually, after the last patient was seen, I was finally able to go home, change, and run my way over to the Upper West Side where my friends were meeting up for happy hour. Although I knew I was going to be a bit late, I look the scenic route around the long end of the park. Six miles and 43 minutes later, I ran in to the restaurant dressed like the delivery boy. And even though all the good food that everyone had ordered were practically gone by the time I arrived, I had already satisfied my craving and wasn’t at all hungry. I excused myself and headed to the restroom. As I looked in the mirror at the disheveled freak staring back at me, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was the best feeling in the world.